Chapter 14: I Think the East End's Still Safer

After a hasty and rather bizarre five-minute interview, Ma Zhaodi officially became a member of the Red Dragon Restaurant staff.

"You report to the restaurant at 10 a.m. sharp each day. Change into your uniform and get to work. If you want to show up earlier, that's fine—breakfast and lunch are served in the staff cafeteria. You get a two-hour break starting at 2 p.m. Your duties include greeting guests, taking orders, serving dishes, and cleaning tables. Your shift ends at 10 p.m. The pay is $25 an hour, five days a week."

"Sometimes things might get… unusual around here. You don't need to do anything about it. Just keep calm, reassure the customers, and don't let it escalate. Someone specialized will come deal with the problem soon enough."

A supervisor walked leisurely through the restaurant with Ma, familiarizing him with the rooms inside and out. "Keep your wits about you. There's a lot to learn. If customers ask about anything on the menu, you better know the answer. If they request something off-menu, do your best to accommodate."

"Any request?"

"That depends on who the customer is. Say, if the Roman or some other big shot walks in—if they ask you to lick their shoes, you'd better do it. But if it's just some clueless nouveau riche trying to act tough, you can put a bullet in him once he's out the door—just make sure the blood doesn't splatter on the shop next door."

"Well… that's a bit extreme."

The supervisor gave the new hire a meaningful look and smirked. "Boss told me to give you a few more words of advice, so here they are: learn to shoot. In Gotham, anyone without a predator's instincts won't survive."

With that, he handed Ma Zhaodi a card. "Call this number. Our restaurant staff get half off at this shooting range. Of course, if you're bold or well-connected, there are cheaper ways to train in the East End."

Nice. Gun training discounts as part of a fine dining job package. Ma grumbled inwardly as he pocketed the card.

"One more thing. Once you get your first paycheck, get yourself some wheels," the supervisor continued. "Boss said to tell you: back when you weren't working here, taking that public bus wasn't particularly dangerous. But now that you're part of the restaurant, you'd better find a new way to commute."

Wonderful. Second employee benefit: a giant neon 'attack me first' sign for anyone targeting the restaurant.

"Can I get an advance on my salary?"

The supervisor frowned. "You haven't lived in Gotham before, have you? Paychecks come biweekly. The boss does allow new hires to get an advance on their first two pay periods—so that's four weeks, pre-tax $5,000. You've got a bank account, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then once we finish onboarding, we'll transfer the money—post-tax, of course. Or we can give you cash, your choice."

Hell yeah. Ma nodded to himself. So the Gotham stereotype is true. The place is brutal—but not broke.

Truth be told, due to corporate monopolies and mob extortion, Gotham had an insane wealth gap. The East End's brutality was real, but so was the gleaming opulence of Diamond District. Taken as a whole, Gotham's economy ranked among the top in the entire country.

And that $4,000+ after tax? It wasn't even the full picture. As a waiter, Ma's income was a combination of base salary and customer tips—and tips made up the lion's share of a server's income. Plus, since they came in cash, no tax.

Aside from the 12 hours he'd have to spend at the restaurant each day—including 10 hours of actual work—and the safety hazards of carrying tip money home at 10 p.m., this job seemed… almost perfect.

At least, for now.

Ma Zhaodi also realized that, with Derek moving out, he might not have a place to stay. So he asked the supervisor if he could stay at the restaurant overnight.

The look on the supervisor's face was hard to read—somewhere between a smirk and something darker. "There is a night shift at the restaurant," he said. "But you don't have clearance to be around for that just yet."

Clearly, the restaurant's night clientele were not the kind Ma wanted to get involved with. So he dropped the subject.

Since work wouldn't start until tomorrow, Derek took Ma out of the Red Dragon for now. Priority number one: get a vehicle, or find a nearby place to rent. Public buses were no longer an option, now that he was marked as a Red Dragon employee.

Derek actually knew a lot about housing around Otisburg. After all, this area used to be a joint site for Mr. Freeze and a pharmaceutical company. It was where he first landed when he came to Gotham.

But juggling the care of his wife, the hunt for Dr. Victor Fries, and basic survival left him with few decent-paying job options. With no progress in locating Dr. Fries, Otisburg's rent quickly became unsustainable.

Derek thought Ma Zhaodi could easily find a small place near the Red Dragon—secure and within walking distance. But Ma didn't seem interested.

They crunched the numbers together. Americans were used to living on credit cards, but Ma wasn't. Renting here would burn through almost all of that $4,000 advance, and he'd probably need to start borrowing just to cover everyday expenses.

Still, if financial strain was tolerable, the local safety situation was not. The abandoned Ferris wheel nearby, the shady pharmaceutical plant that had once experimented on Mr. Freeze—Ma Zhaodi wasn't feeling it. He even asked about the factory and confirmed that there had been an accident where someone fell into a vat of chemicals.

And that wasn't all. There was also a botanical research zone nearby. Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but mutter "Holy shit." Joker, Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy… and let's not forget those crime lords who might very well dine at the Red Dragon. Who knows, maybe Penguin or Falcone was among them. Either way, this was not the kind of place you linger in. On quiet days, it's quiet. But when chaos breaks out, it explodes—and with no way to fix it.

He'd checked the system store. There were options to buy firearm skills and one-time-use save points. Those might not stand a chance against skin-tight-wearing, psycho supervillains, but at least they'd be useful for dealing with regular East End thugs.

"In conclusion," Ma said firmly, waving off

Derek, "I've thought it through. Junkies, enforcers, hookers, gangsters, and pickpockets in the East End—that's the kind of environment I prefer."

"I'm not living in Otisburg. I'd rather die. Let's go."

Derek could only shrug. Ma had made up his mind. Since it was still early, they didn't wait for a bus and instead went shopping for Ma's new ride.