Chapter 780: Deadly Joke (7) (Patreon)

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The next morning, when Bruce woke up, he knew he had to find a job today. With only $20 left in his pocket, he was running out of options, and hunger was becoming a real threat.

But was finding a job that easy? The distance to Pier was considerable, and becoming a laborer there was out of the question. Joining a gang as an enforcer required a recommendation letter, and gangs needed to trust you before accepting you. They wouldn't recruit someone with an unclear background.

If you were the son of a gang member, your parents might introduce you to that gang or others in different neighborhoods. However, Bruce Wayne had no gang connections. Without acquaintances, he couldn't even enter a gang.

Unable to become a formal member, he could consider being an external hire. Many people worked for gangs without being official members. Not every bartender or bouncer in a bar was a formal gang member; many were just employed by the gang.

Bruce thought about becoming a bouncer. His physique and combat skills were advantageous, but unfortunately, the East District's bouncers didn't require combat skills; they needed keen observation. You had to identify whether someone was a normal customer, a thief, someone causing trouble, or a spy from another gang within three seconds. Bruce had only been here for two days, and the only thing he could distinguish was the person's gender.

If being a bouncer wasn't an option, could he be a waiter? Bruce found a similar job in a nightclub, doing cleaning and sweeping instead of serving plates. However, his handsome face led to situations he couldn't accept. In three days, he encountered seven gang bosses who wanted to keep him, and six of them were male.

Covering his face didn't help; guests assumed he was a bomb-carrying maniac, potentially affecting the nightclub's business. Eventually, the club's owner suggested him for a job at the strip club across the street, and Bruce had to quit that job.

If relying on his appearance was an option, being a greeter at a mansion's entrance was the best choice. Normally, mansions under the protection of a big gang had few intruders. However, the leaders of these gangs knew Bruce Wayne. The moment he tried to enter, he was escorted to the top floor's office, treated to tea and wine, and then sent away. Bruce drank expensive liquor but went back empty-handed.

If low-level jobs weren't feasible, could he work as a skilled laborer? Gangs were currently in great need of skilled workers, and Bruce wasn't planning to take on anything too difficult. His knowledge relied on the privileged education he had, which was not accessible to ordinary people in the East District.

Bruce aimed for a truck driver position. Driving wasn't too difficult, and most children in the East District learned to drive at a certain age, guided by their elders or gang leaders. Even if they didn't specialize in transporting goods, occasionally substituting as a driver was acceptable.

Since gangs were short-staffed, when Bruce mentioned his ability to drive, they immediately assigned him a truck responsible for transporting goods from the city center to Pier.

It seemed simple; a journey of less than 20 kilometers, with loading and unloading taken care of by others, and the gang even provided lunch. It appeared stable, right?

But reality proved him too optimistic. Driving a truck was challenging, and the other aspects were even more so.

Firstly, the truck wasn't employed by a single gang but by gangs in a specific area. Each gang had its own style, and Bruce had to carefully discern them. Some gangs liked overloading, pointing guns at you to carry more cargo, disregarding whether it could pass inspections. Others preferred smuggling prohibited items, and if caught at the distribution point, the truck driver would also face trouble.

Moreover, if Bruce wasn't familiar with the people at the distribution point, waiting in line to unload cargo without proper guidance led to slow efficiency. While others casually cut in line, Bruce, behind the wheel outside, waited for two hours.

Additionally, being young and having a fresh face, many laborers tried to take advantage of him, knocking on the window and demanding money. If he didn't pay, the cargo he was transporting could be damaged, leading to trouble when he returned to the gang.

Furthermore, while Gotham's traffic had improved somewhat, it wasn't entirely smooth. In certain conflicts, a shotgun emerging from a car window was not uncommon. Just as Bruce earned a bit of money, he had to spend it on buying a gun and bulletproof shields.

If you want to park the truck at the distribution point overnight, just locking the fuel tank won't be enough. Either leave someone to guard it or entrust it to someone you know. To have acquaintances, you have to spend money on meals and build relationships – it's the same in any country.

Bruce worked this way for a week, and his savings went from just over ten dollars to a few. If it weren't for the gang providing lunch, he might really be passively losing weight.

Working at the bottom is like this – if you're not in the industry, you lose as much as you make, and it's the same no matter how long you work. To enter the industry, besides spending time and energy, you must lower your stance, seek guidance from the industry's circle, and engage in activities you might have found unpleasant before, turning into the person you used to dislike.

The weight of the phrase "forced by circumstances" is truly heavy, and no one knows the burden on the shoulders of those who utter these words.

During these days, Bruce realized that more terrifying than intense criminal conflicts was the quiet, prolonged, endless poverty.

Gotham's people weren't poor, at least richer than those in other cities, but this daily grind consumed all their energy, leaving them no time to think, a slow death.

When Batman stood high above on a skyscraper, observing all of this, he couldn't understand why these people lacked the strength and courage to break free from this life.

But when he found himself deeply immersed, he discovered that in the chilly, rainy nights of Gotham, the fire ignited by the anger of revenge couldn't even light a cigarette.

In these less than two weeks, Bruce entertained the thought of retreat for the first time. He felt he had collected enough material, but a voice in his heart told him it was far from sufficient. He hadn't hit rock bottom yet.

So, he had to set sail again, and he didn't plan to change jobs. He knew that ordinary people here didn't have as much room for mistakes. They didn't have such robust bodies to endure hunger for a week, lack strong combat skills, and couldn't escape when gangs caused trouble.

In all the hardships Bruce experienced, at some point, ordinary people could only, in the corners where no one was present, write down a word in blood – acceptance.

On a certain day, Bruce was driving, on the overpass bridge, stuck in a traffic jam when he turned his head and saw a familiar face.

The driver beside him had a pale face, wearing bright red lipstick, biting into a piece of bread with bloodshot eyes. Bruce hurriedly rolled up his car window, but the driver from the other side had already turned his head.

Seeing Bruce in the truck driver's seat, Joker Jack also froze. The bread in his mouth suddenly lost its appeal, and he took the piece that hadn't been bitten off yet, removing some crumbs.

He lowered his head to pick up those crumbs and tossed them into his mouth. Then, he rolled down his car window, desperately reaching out to hook Bruce's car window.

Bruce tried to avoid by turning the steering wheel, but in the current traffic jam, there was no space to escape. Jack emerged from his car window, grabbing the edge of the truck's window and tapping on Bruce's glass.

Unable to break the glass, Jack went back into his truck, searched around in front and back seats, and pulled out a large bomb.

Bruce immediately rolled down the car window, saying, "Put that thing down! I warn you, my cargo is very important, it's an urgent order, and it has to be delivered within two hours. If you blow up the bridge, I'll throw you off from here!"

Holding the bomb, Jack also froze. He fumbled with his ear and said, "What did you say?"

"I said! If you! Dare to blow up the bridge! I'll..."

"No, the sentence before that!" Jack shouted at him.

Bruce paused for a moment and said, "This batch of goods is very important, it's an urgent order!"

Jack sneered, his mouth curled downward, and he stared at Bruce with gloomy eye contact, "Why are you here? Why are you driving a truck? Why aren't you standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower enjoying the breeze?"

Bruce didn't want to answer him. Just as he was about to roll up the window, Jack emerged again from his own car window, placed his hand on the window, and stuck his head into Bruce's truck.

Bruce searched front and back and took out a bottle of mineral water, smashing it against Jack's head. But instead of retreating, Jack captured Bruce's arm and asked, "Damn it, why are you here? Answer me, answer me, Batman, are you insane?!"

Bruce took a deep breath, glanced at another window. The traffic jam ahead remained stubbornly congested, cars moving forward every five minutes. Unless there was an unexpected event, it was certain they wouldn't get off the bridge within half an hour.

So, he looked at Jack and said, "I'm driving a truck because I need to earn money, because I'm human, and I need to eat!"

Jack paused, then suddenly burst into a series of laughter. He looked at Bruce with his mouth open and asked, "What did you say? Say it again, this is the funniest joke I've heard this year!"

"I said, I'm human, I need to eat, how do I eat without money?"

Jack burst into laughter again, continuously tapping on the car window until he laughed tears. Then, with teary eyes, he looked at Bruce and said:

"No money, how do you eat? Hahaha... hahaha... Yeah! How do you eat without money?"

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 781: Deadly Joke (8)