Young Master Bruce was going to bury his parents. Gwen politely declined his invitation.
Come on, they weren't that close. It would be super awkward if she couldn't summon the right emotions.
She did catch a ride into the city, though, wandered around, and bought a tourist map to get familiar with the layout.
Holy crap, what kind of place is this?!
The sky was covered in heavy, oppressive clouds that looked like they would never clear. The whole city leaned toward dark, muted tones, full of decay and depression. People on the streets hurried by, keeping cold distance from one another. No energy, no smiles.
Muscle-bound gang members were everywhere. Robbers and pickpockets darted around. Every corner was packed with homeless, destitute vagrants, mixed with rebellious youths dressed in edgy, alternative styles…
Yet, surprisingly, in this eyesore of a city, order still existed. Some invisible, not necessarily legal, but very real order that kept the city running and stable.
Gwen recognized the vibe. It was just like Kingpin's Hell's Kitchen. Except Hell's Kitchen was only one neighborhood, while this was a massive, fully functional metropolis.
But there were no superheroes here, and that was wonderful.
No superheroes meant no supervillains. What a peaceful world.
The only problem was that money wasn't easy to earn…
Her phone was dead and couldn't be turned on for mobile payments. She hadn't brought her credit cards either. All she had in her pocket was twenty dollars in cash.
These little troubles couldn't stump Miss Gwen. She had rich experience surviving in other worlds.
First, she needed some starting capital. Of course she couldn't rob villains—superheroes don't maintain their lifestyle through robbery. Anyone with a gun could rob people; where was the skill in that?
She punched out a little punk trying to steal her money, dragged him into an alley, and interrogated him for the location of the nearest Gotham high school.
When no one was looking, she jumped onto the rooftops, swung leisurely over to the high school, dropped down from the roof, and wiped the dust off her leather shoes. She grabbed two fat boys who were bullying a classmate and politely asked who the Queen of the school was.
Usually in comics, the Queen bee girls and quarterback hunks were destined to be the antagonistic supporting characters who made the protagonist shine. Smart writers knew exactly how to stimulate the average loser reader's purchasing desire.
Gwen was sorry she wasn't a loser; it seriously hurt her comic sales. The upside was that she knew exactly how to deal with those student leaders.
Pamela Monroe, current student council president of Gotham High. Blonde bombshell, rich heiress.
When Gwen found her, Pamela was sitting seriously in the classroom signing documents, hair tied up high, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, looking like a menopausal old principal.
The imposing Miss Monroe radiated a "do not approach" aura. When she was focused on work, she didn't even allow followers around her.
Gwen walked straight over and said directly, "Miss Pamela Monroe, I hope to take three minutes of your valuable time."
Pamela looked up, glanced at her, put down her pen, looked again, narrowed her eyes and said, "You're not a student here, or I would definitely remember you."
Gwen introduced herself, "I'm Gwen Stacy. I came from London, England, to visit relatives. Simply put, I want to know if your school will be holding any group events soon. I have a cousin studying here and I want to surprise him."
Her London accent sounded very convincing. After all, she had studied at Cambridge; fooling high school kids was no problem.
Pamela looked puzzled. "Welcome to Gotham. What kind of surprise are you talking about?"
Gwen shrugged. "Unfortunately, my cousin seems to have some prejudice against British girls, so I plan to show him another side of me—for example, letting him see the hottest guy in your school going crazy for me. Of course, I know I need your permission first, Miss Monroe."
The strong NTR vibe mixed with just the right amount of flattery successfully piqued Pamela's curiosity and interest. She sat up straight, stared at Gwen, and said, "Your cousin must be blind… sorry, no offense, but this sounds fun. How do you plan to do it?"
"I'm thinking of holding a solo concert after school?"
"A solo concert?"
"If you can lend me instruments and a venue, I'll donate half the ticket revenue to the student council."
"Excuse me, is this some kind of talent show?"
"It's just step one of the plan."
Rich girls from high society loved mysterious schemes, even if they didn't understand what was going on. Miss Monroe looked very dignified, but the more dignified she appeared, the more she probably secretly longed for rebellion.
When the dismissal bell rang, a tiny mini-stage had already been set up on the lawn in front of the school gate. Gwen had been given an electric guitar and a keyboard. There had been talk of a drum kit and bass too, but she really didn't have the manpower.
"So you're planning to play electric guitar and keyboard by yourself?" The black-skinned girl who had lent the guitar followed behind Gwen and couldn't help questioning.
"I wrote a program for the keyboard chip so it plays itself—thankfully it's a Yamaha. I've never taken apart any other brand." Gwen put down the screwdriver and explained, "Don't worry, I definitely won't take apart your electric guitar. She looks amazing. I'll treat her as carefully as I treat my boyfriend."
At least while Peter was still alive.
The moment the students poured out the gates, Gwen stepped on the switch on the ground. Four subwoofers on both sides blasted out deafening noise at the same time.
Except for Pamela, who had already secured a front-row seat to watch the show, everyone else looked completely confused.
Gwen strummed the strings, leaned close to the mic, and took a deep breath.
He was a boy, she was a girl,
Can I make it any more obvious?
He was a punk, she did ballet,
What more can I say?
He wanted her, she'd never tell,
Secretly she wanted him as well.
And all of her friends stuck up their nose.
They had a problem with his baggy clothes.
He was a skater boy, she said "See ya later, boy,"
He wasn't good enough for her.
She had a pretty face but her head was up in space.
She needed to come back down to earth.
Five years from now, she sits at home feeding the baby.
She's all alone, she turns on TV and guess who she sees?
Skater boy rockin' up MTV
...
When the electro-pop song ended, the entire field fell silent.
Kids in this era had never seen this kind of performance. They didn't even know what an iPod was.
Gwen put down the electric guitar, bowed to the stunned audience, picked up the mic and announced loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to a free taste of Avril's solo concert! If you like my music, you can sign up with the student council to ask about the exact time and location of the full concert! Each ticket is only five dollars, and all concert revenue will be donated to the student council for student welfare!"
After delivering her lines, before anyone could react, she jumped off the stage and slipped away.
She took a quick walk around, bought an ice pop to soothe her throat. Thirty minutes later, when Gwen reappeared in front of Pamela, her cash assets had skyrocketed dozens of times.
"I can't believe it! What the hell was that song? And people actually bought tickets?" Pamela crossed her arms, complaining excitedly, "Also, didn't you tell me your name is Gwen? What the heck is Avril? The whole school has gone crazy. At least a hundred guys—including three of my ex-boyfriends—are going classroom to classroom asking about you. If you're willing to throw in your phone number with each ticket, I bet we could sell them for a hundred bucks each!"
"Money isn't that important to me."
Gwen pinched the 19.25 dollars in her pocket and smiled without changing expression. "My parents are very traditional and stubborn respectable people. I guess they wouldn't like hearing my name spread this way. Miss Pamela Monroe, you should understand my difficulties."
Pamela subconsciously pushed out her D-cup chest. She thought she had caught Gwen's hint. They were the same kind of people. Only she was worthy of knowing Gwen's real name.
That invisible sense of superiority made Miss Monroe feel refreshed and overjoyed.
"So how many tickets did we sell in the end?"
"The student council treasurer is still counting. I saw it already passed a hundred earlier. If you need money, I can give you an advance."
"Then give me three hundred dollars first. Leave whatever's left to the student council."
"Are you insulting me, Gwen? The student council doesn't need pocket change like that! Take five hundred. If it's not enough, call me anytime!"