Cold. Shaking. A loud clank clank echoed beside his ears. Half conscious, Marcus Reed was jolted by the vibrations of the ground, pain throbbing at the back of his head.
"Sir." In his hazy state, a voice seemed to repeat itself beside him. Who is that? "Sir!" Who are they calling? Me? "Wake up, sir!"
A wave of cold, damp air rushed in, flooding Marcus's nostrils. There was a faint metallic scent to it blood, mixed with something dangerous and unsettling. That smell pierced straight through his senses, dragging his consciousness up from the depths like someone yanking him from the deep sea.
His eyes flew open. A strange ceiling came into view. No. Not a ceiling. The ground beneath him swayed rhythmically. The metallic clanking continued. Outside the window beside him, thick storm clouds rushed past at high speed. Rows of seats lined both sides. He was lying in the aisle between them. He was on a train.
But… why was he here? Marcus pushed himself up from the floor. Around him were empty train seats and a uniformed train attendant standing nearby. "Sir, are you all right?"
Why was a foreign attendant speaking English to him? When did I get on a train overseas? No—this isn't right. I wasn't on a train at all. Marcus shook his head hard, trying to convince himself that everything before him was an illusion. Unfortunately, it all felt far too real. The chill in the air. The cold metal of the carriage. The scratches and dents in the walls. The deafening roar of the train in motion. Everything screamed reality.
"But wasn't I pulling an all nighter writing?" His last memory was vague—he remembered being exhausted, collapsing face first onto his keyboard. Maybe I just fell asleep from exhaustion. Or maybe some trashy prank show is messing with me?
As he pondered this, Marcus stood up and sat down on a nearby seat. The train attendant was still watching him anxiously. Seeing that this Asian passenger remained silent, unease crept into his heart. Normally, passengers weren't scary. But the train was approaching its final stop. That stop was called— Gotham.
Normal people might go to Gotham. But normal people don't choose to go to Gotham. The attendant swallowed hard and asked again. Still no response. The passenger only stared back at him with a strange, hollow gaze. It was chilling. After just one glance, the attendant couldn't bear the pressure anymore. He muttered an apology and fled.
Marcus turned his attention to the window. The glass was fogged with moisture. Beyond it lay a gloomy sky—and beneath the rain clouds, a city cloaked in darkness. A towering clock tower. Dense skyscrapers. Twisted Gothic architecture. Far in the distance, clusters of filthy, low rise buildings. English signs and billboards everywhere.
Clock tower. Slums. English signage. This city was clearly not in his home country. "Where the hell did this send me? Is this even still my country?" The words slipped from his lips unconsciously.
"Woooo—" The train whistle shrieked as the speed slowed, and the train pulled into the platform. Marcus froze by the window. The unfamiliar platform. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Western faces all around. With a loud clang, the doors opened. Passengers carrying luggage poured out onto the platform. Marcus was swept along by the crowd, stumbling forward like a rootless piece of driftwood, floating toward an unknown fate.
"Why am I not waking up… Why won't this dream end…" He stepped off the train. Then suddenly stopped. Above him, bold English letters hung over the platform. GOTHAM CITY
"?" Any lingering self deception shattered instantly. He might not know much English—but he'd seen enough superhero movies to understand exactly how cursed that name was. "Which heartless bastard sent me to this hellhole?!"
Nearly collapsing, Marcus covered his face with both hands. He could already imagine being skinned alive in some alleyway on his very first night. Gotham was one of the most crime ridden cities in America. Decent people were rare. Truly upright citizens? Non existent.
In other cities, a thief was just a criminal. In Gotham? If someone only stole, never robbed, never killed, never burned buildings— They were qualified to run for Model Citizen of Gotham. Seventy percent of this city consisted of gang members. The rest? World class terrorist organizations. Elite assassin groups. Children. Tycoons. Capitalists. Lone wolf supercriminals. And finally— The single most deranged lunatic in all of Gotham.
And then there were the world class unlucky ones. People who knew nothing about Gotham—and wandered in by accident. As for the police? There wasn't a single cop in this city who hadn't cooperated with gangs or lunatics at some point. This was a city soaked in darkness. If anything here was still pure— It was probably only Marcus Reed, who had just arrived.
Ding. "Self Made Fortune System fully loaded. Please work diligently and strive for wealth. Money opens all doors. As long as you are not completely broke, you will always have another chance."
"Current assets: $7." "Current mission: Rely on your own hands to find a job in Gotham City and earn your first pot of gold after transmigrating."
"Beginner benefits available for purchase:"
Available for Purchase: Basic English Proficiency Price: $1 Note: How do you spell 'abandon' again?
Local Resident Identity Price: $1 per use Note: A Gotham native is still a boss—guns and knives all day long!
Rapid Health Regeneration Price: $1 Note: Works well. Come again next time—99.9999% off!
Save Point Price: $1 Note: Appearance fee one hundred million. Can't afford it next time.
"Reminder: You may only earn assets through legal employment. Stay grounded. Work hard. Get rich the honest way."