1 PM.
Jude finally made it back to the East End.
On a bicycle.
He looked like he'd been dragged behind a boat. Sweat-soaked. Gasping. Legs shaking. He stumbled off the folding bike and let it clatter to the pavement.
A taxi pulled up beside him.
Drake stepped out, looking fresh as morning coffee.
"You alright?" He glanced at Jude's death-warmed-over appearance. "You just biked from Otisburg to the East End. It's not that far."
"Not... that... far..." Jude wheezed. "You try it."
He'd stopped to rest seven times. Maybe eight. He'd lost count around the moment his thighs started screaming.
The taxi that had been following him the whole way had racked up a truly impressive fare. Drake's face when he paid had been almost painful to watch.
Almost made the suffering worth it.
"I told you," Drake said, shaking his head. "Buy a cheap motorcycle. Buy a junker car. But no, you insisted on a folding bicycle."
"Bikes are practical," Jude managed between breaths.
"Cars protect you from biker gangs. Provide cover during shootouts. Limit enemy firing angles. Three benefits, one purchase."
Jude straightened up. Met Drake's eyes.
"I can't drive."
Drake stared at him.
"What."
"I can't drive. The license is real, but I don't know how to drive." Jude shrugged helplessly. "I took the written test back home, never did the practical part. And American cars are opposite anyway. If I bought a car, we'd be in another shootout by tomorrow. Except this time I'd be the one causing it."
"But you have a—"
"License, yes. Ability, no."
Drake opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"You're telling me you have a valid driver's license and you can't drive?"
"That's what I'm telling you."
"How does that even—" Drake stopped himself. "Never mind. It's Gotham. Fake credentials are easier to get than real ones anyway."
If only he knew.
Jude had actually planned to check the system shop for driving skills. Maybe find a cheap car option while he was at it.
But when he'd opened the mall earlier, looking at his asset balance, his world had tilted sideways.
Assets: $3
Same as yesterday.
His advance—two thousand dollars, currently in his pocket—didn't register at all.
What the hell?
"Hey, system," he'd muttered, trying to stay calm. "Where's my money?"
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: "The Starting from Scratch System reminds you: you reap what you sow. Hard work yields rewards. No work yields nothing."
"Asset points increase only after completing the work period that corresponds to your compensation."
"Your advance will be settled four weeks from completion date. Settlement: Next month."
Jude's eye had twitched.
"And my tips?"
SYSTEM: "Tips will be settled after each transaction. Corresponding asset points added immediately."
"Fine." He'd gritted his teeth. "Fine. That's fine."
At least he could earn some asset points within a few days. Tips would help.
But buying driving skills or a cheap system car was off the table.
Which brought him back to the transportation problem.
Gotham had buses. Subways. Both ran through the East End. Both were staffed by criminals, frequented by gangs, and occasionally featured impromptu robberies.
Jude was not Old Jack. He didn't want to have shootouts with random thugs while commuting. He especially didn't want to do it while carrying cash tips.
Real-world money couldn't just be dumped into the system. Asset points auto-generated from work, but converting cash required spending points first. Wasteful.
So: bicycle, motorcycle, or taxi?
Motorcycles were faster but attracted attention. Got damaged easily. Couldn't be brought inside.
Bicycles were slow but invisible. Poor guy on a cheap bike? Robbers would ignore him for better targets. Could fold it up, carry it inside.
The downside was purely physical. Biking was exhausting. Time-consuming.
Hence the current situation: Jude half-dead on the sidewalk, having biked for three and a half hours straight.
Old Jack's shot-up bus had made the trip in forty minutes this morning.
Old Jack has skills, Jude thought grudgingly. Even with busted tires.
"At this rate, Donald will fire me in three days," Jude muttered.
The system chimed.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: "The Starting from Scratch System is pleased to offer vehicle modification services!"
Modified Bicycle: Starting at $50 asset points
Modified Electric Wheelchair: Starting at $100 asset points
Modified Car: Starting at $1,000 asset points
"All modifications guaranteed to exceed local traffic laws. Probably."
Jude blinked.
Modified electric wheelchair?
He focused on that option. Details expanded.
MODIFIED ELECTRIC WHEELCHAIR (Base Model)
Top Speed: 80 mph
Handling: Responsive
Stealth: Moderate (it's a wheelchair, people assume you're harmless)
Cool Factor: Subjective
NOTE: Must be used with Wheelchair Driving Expertise skill. Improper operation may result in injury, death, or internet fame. None covered by warranty.
"When your loved ones ask what happened, you can say 'I was going 80 in a wheelchair.' They probably won't believe you."
Jude stared at the description.
Eighty miles per hour.
In a wheelchair.
The beautiful thing about Gotham was that nobody would question it. See a guy rocketing through traffic in a modified wheelchair? Just another Tuesday. Maybe he's crazy. Maybe he's brilliant. Either way, not your problem.
When everyone around you was insane, your own madness became camouflage.
Jude looked at his folding bicycle. Then at the system screen. Then back at the bicycle.
He was seriously considering it.
God help me, he thought. I'm seriously considering it.