Chapter 782: Deadly Joke (Nine) (Patreon)

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The sky had completely darkened, and Bruce, exhausted from a day of driving, felt a bit disoriented. All he wanted now was to get back to the rented house and have a good night's sleep. However, in Gotham, it seemed like there were no peaceful days.

As soon as he returned home and settled on the sofa, he heard a commotion outside the door. Someone was banging on it loudly. Bruce, alert, approached the door, listening to the noises outside.

Before long, a man's voice came, "Open the door! Hurry up! I'm the landlord, open the door quickly!"

Bruce had no intention of going to open the door, but soon enough, it swung open from the outside, not forcefully but with a key.

A man with a gloomy expression stood outside, glancing at Bruce and asking, "Who are you? Where is the previous tenant?"

"I am Selena's boyfriend..."

"I don't care about your relationship. I only rent to trustworthy people. Strangers, get out!" The landlord said loudly.

"But the rent is not due..."

"I don't care about the rent!" The landlord raised his voice. "I rent to whoever I want. Those I haven't rented to, get out now!"

Bruce realized the landlord just wanted to take back the house and rent it out again for double the rent. Faced with such a unreasonable person, he decided not to reason with him. Instead, he raised the gun in his hand.

The landlord stared at him, "Don't think you're the only one with a gun. The rules here can't be broken. If you don't leave quickly, just wait for what's coming to you."

After saying that, he turned and left. Bruce stood by the door, sensing something was not right.

Back in the room, Bruce, tired from the day, was drifting off to sleep when he heard a faint noise. In an instant, he was wide awake, reaching for the gun beside him. Holding the gun, he went to the living room and found someone trying to break in through the window – the same drunkard he had encountered before.

Quietly searching on the sofa, the intruder only noticed Bruce's gun pointing at him when it was already too late. Mumbling incoherently due to alcohol, he tried to evade, and Bruce made him run out, leaving the room.

However, in a short while, there was another noise outside, forcing Bruce to get up again. Another thief, and Bruce realized he was being targeted. Perhaps the landlord had spread the word about a wealthy stranger, and that night, Bruce was visited by thieves four times.

The balcony door was locked, but it couldn't stop these thieves. This slum apartment lacked the security of the Batcave, and without proper preparation, Batman could only handle them one by one without good preventive measures.

Bruce had to sleep on the sofa in the living room for the night. When he woke up in the morning, he found his neck twisted. Instead of a soft blanket, he had the gun in his arms. He knew he had scared off at least two more thieves the previous night.

...

After waking up, Bruce decided to go downstairs to buy a hotdog to suffice. In the staircase, he encountered the Asian woman again. The plump lady whispered to him, "You better leave. Hef has spread the word; he won't stop nearby thieves from entering your room."

With the explanation from the Asian lady, Bruce learned that this apartment wasn't owned by an individual but by a middle-tier member of a gang. Each member had a designated area to rent out, and they could decide who to rent to.

They also warned local thieves not to target the area, or they would face eviction by the gang. However, if they encountered a troublesome tenant, they might purposely send thieves to harass them until they moved out.

Typically, landlords wouldn't evict tenants before the lease expired, repeating rent collection, as it could offend the gang or damage their reputation, making it hard to find tenants in that area again.

However, the landlord didn't know who Bruce was and whether a dangerous soul hid beneath his appearance. To avoid trouble for himself, his tenants, and his building, he declared that he wouldn't offer protection to the tenant of that room anymore and explicitly mentioned Bruce was a wealthy man.

This led to numerous thieves continuously targeting Bruce's room in the following two days. Bruce worked during the day and defended against thieves at night. He realized he couldn't stay here any longer. The landlord was losing patience, and the latest intruders carried long guns. If Bruce hadn't reacted quickly, he might have been in danger.

Bruce decided he couldn't stay here any longer. He didn't plan to confront the landlord any further.

This is what they call a strong dragon not suppressing a local snake. Even if he could defeat one landlord, he couldn't defeat all the landlords here, let alone the Gang the landlords were associated with.

More importantly, even if he could defeat them all, what about the tenants here? Without the protection of the landlord and the Gang, these people would be in trouble.

Bruce decided to leave, but he didn't know where to rent a place. Luckily, after spending so many days in the East District, he had some clues. He found the supervisor of the restaurant where he used to work and asked for help.

The supervisor seemed to think highly of Bruce, but when it came to this matter, he shook his head, saying, "To rent in the East District, you must have someone vouch for you, or no landlord will trust you to move in."

"If you cause trouble after moving into his house, like killing people, causing explosions, or engaging in illegal business, both he and his Gang might suffer. Without an introduction, you might have to settle for the Tin Can District."

...

"The Tin Can District? Where is that?" Bruce asked.

The supervisor pointed in a direction, saying, "Follow this path, walk about 3 kilometers outward. You'll see a garbage dump. On the south side of the dump, facing the sea, you'll find a bunch of houses made of corrugated iron. That's the Tin Can District."

"People there collect discarded construction materials like bricks and iron sheets to build their houses. From a distance, it looks like cans, hence the name Tin Can District."

The supervisor sighed, "I advise you not to go there. Many who enter never come out."

"Not come out? Why?" Bruce asked.

The supervisor shook his head, not saying more. However, Bruce decided to go and see the Tin Can District. The supervisor's description reminded him of the place where the little girl used to live.

Back then, the girl lived in a shabby shack made of corrugated iron at the end of an alley. That was already the lowest standard of building Bruce could imagine.

But upon arriving at the Tin Can District, he realized he had been too naive in his imagination.

The place the girl lived in had at least three walls; only the roof and door were made of corrugated iron. In the Tin Can District, all the houses were constructed from corrugated iron and discarded building materials.

Located in the southern part of Gotham's East District, it was the area of the garbage dump and the majority of pollution pipes. In precious Gotham land, this area wasn't developed because it was essentially a shallow swamp.

The soil quality was poor, requiring extensive land reclamation, which was costly. Thus, the area was abandoned but became a home for another group of people.

As Bruce walked in, he noticed that most of the people hiding in these piles of waste were elderly, disabled, or seriously ill.

Of course, there were also people like him, unable to rent a place due to a lack of connections and temporarily settling here.

Bruce found an iron house with no one living in it. Apparently, the residents here were transient. Bruce didn't know where the owner of this house had gone, but he knew he had a place to stay tonight.

Calling it a house might not be entirely accurate. One side of the house was a broken triangular wall panel with reinforcing bars visible. It looked like discarded materials from the demolition of city apartments. The other side was a metal balcony door without glass, covered with plastic sheeting.

The two walls formed a triangular space, with some wooden boards and crates outside serving as a door. Calling it a house was too retro, and calling it a tent was too avant-garde.

Standing on the beach, Bruce looked into the distance and realized this wasn't a residential area but a graveyard. Where his eyes could see, there were three dead bodies lying inside the corrugated iron houses.

Walking on the beach with shallow steps, Bruce realized that the rain boots he bought were not only overpriced but also of poor quality. Seams looked tight, but when walking on the beach, water leaked in. Before long, Bruce's feet were freezing.

The cold started spreading from his feet upwards, and Bruce knew he had to find warmth quickly, or he might end up like that little girl who died from hypothermia.

There was plenty of wood here, but there was no way to make a fire. Left on the beach for too long, the materials were damp, making it impossible to start a fire. And there was nothing dry here, including clothes.

As night fell, the temperature dropped, and Bruce felt colder and colder. Crouching inside the corrugated iron house, he felt like a piece of meat in a can, cold from head to toe.

Bruce thought this was already his limit until, while moving the floor of the house, he saw a human skeleton in the gap.

Now, he knew where the owner of this house had gone.

If it were the old Batman, he might have directly lifted the floor and conducted on-site cause-of-death analysis. But now, Bruce silently put the floor back in place, even finding a piece of cloth to block the gap. Not out of fear, just out of cold.

The next day, after waking up, Bruce realized he had caught a cold.

Headache, coughing, weakness—Bruce felt miserable. All he wanted now was to lie down the entire day.

The bat that had descended was not gentle at all, sometimes too stubborn. But what matched him was that Gotham never had a good night, only cold nights.

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 783: Deadly Joke (Part Ten)