Gotham's train station had gained another innocent unlucky soul. Places like Gotham didn't see many outsiders. And when they did, they were usually gangsters, traffickers, enforcers or criminals fleeing other places.
In short, people who arrived by train were rarely model citizens or wealthy elites. Over the years, no clueless capitalists had tried investing here. Cooperation happened but only underground. Money for connections. Connections for money.
Still, exceptions appeared now and then. Truly innocent people wandered into this filthy city by mistake. One was James Gordon. He walked into Gotham PD alone with nothing but justice and passion. The precinct was still corrupt. But his efforts weren't meaningless.
Another was Gotham's White Knight Harvey Dent. A righteous district attorney who tried to bring order to chaos. He was luckier than Gordon because he had help. From Gotham's most violent lunatic. And from James Gordon himself.
The next one was this Asian young man who somehow carried Gotham's scent. You could call it madness. In Gotham, if you're not crazy, you're a god. Everyone else? They either became part of Gotham's darkness. Or part of its corpse piles. Those who didn't belong would eventually leave. They all shared one thing they were innocent. They were alive. And they wanted to keep living.
At least, that's what Selina Kyle believed. She rarely appeared during the day. Cats were nocturnal. She often visited the station looking for rich fools bold enough to carry wealth into Gotham.
That was her job. Steal from the bloated rich. Decorate her little cat nest. Or help the unlucky souls of the East End. After all, a thief stealing the wrong person could end up with a bullet to the head. Even in Gotham that was excessive.
Yesterday, she noticed an Asian man step off the train. Clear eyes. Completely clueless. Alert but full of openings. Poor in a very strange way. And deeply alien to the city.
She'd grown up in the brutal East End. She could see through people like him instantly. No ambition. No brutality. Just a lost husky without a home. What was he doing in Gotham? Working?
She casually warned him. Checked his only possession his driver's license. Then put it into his pants pocket. Honestly, she regretted it later. She was so shocked someone could be that poor that she forgot to slip him some money. Those pockets were cleaner than the faces of Gotham's socialites.
So when she saw Marcus again today alive she was surprised. He'd found shelter. Even made a friend. His hat and scarf were old but clean. His clothes weren't dirty. He slept somewhere safe. And now he had a gun.
The man dragging him onto buses and into cover trusted him deeply. That man wasn't Gotham born either. Which made things stranger. Selina stood on the rooftop, intrigued. She couldn't understand how a harmless poor guy managed to provoke such a furious gunman.
Yeah, she thought. How did that happen?
Marcus was thinking the same thing. "What if I push you out do you think he'll spare me?"
"That depends on his rage meter," Drake replied calmly. "Anyone who's heated up goes for a full wipe. Combat feels good."
"Then maybe there's hope. He still looks a bit rational."
"…Does he?"
Drake twisted his head and started screaming toward the corner outside the wall.
"You useless trash! Even with a gun you can only hit my busted shoe! My buddy says your shooting's worse than his when he was three years old pissing! At least when he misses, he still splashes someone! Don't even use a gun anymore go home and practice jerking off!"
After finishing his tirade, Drake pulled his head back from the corner and flashed Marcus a proud grin.
"He's probably lost all rational thought by now."