When Bruce woke up the next morning, he knew he needed to find a job. His $20 had dwindled to next to nothing. If he continued this way, he would starve.
But is it really that easy to find work? It was far from the docks, so working as a porter was out of the question. But to get a job as a mob enforcer, one needs a recommendation. The mob must trust you, they won't hire a person whose background is unknown.
If you were the son of a mob member, your parents might introduce you to their gang, or they might recommend you to another gang in a different block where there is no conflict of interest with their current gang.
Distant mob factions accept such members; in fact, if a gang is short of people, they might approach a gang from a distant block seeking promising new recruits.
But where would Bruce Wayne get a mob background from? Without a recommendation, he could not even get near a mob.
If he couldn't become a full-time mob member, he could still work as an external contractor. Many people do that; not every bartender and bouncer in a bar is a full-time mob member, many just work for them.
Bruce thought about becoming a bouncer. After all, he was physically fit and highly skilled in combat. Unfortunately, in the East District, bouncers didn't need fighting skills as much as they needed a keen eye.
You had to quickly identify whether someone was a regular customer, a thief, a troublemaker, or a spy from another gang within just three seconds. Bruce had only been here for two days, the only distinction he could make was the person's gender.
If he couldn't become a bouncer, surely he could be a waiter? Bruce found such a job in a nightclub, not carrying plates, but instead cleaning and sweeping.
However, Bruce was incredibly handsome which often led to some unacceptable situations. In the three days he spent working there, he was approached by, seven mob bosses, six of whom were men, with offers of patronage.
Covering his face didn't help; customers would be scared thinking he was a bomber wearing explosives that could harm the nightclub's business. In the end, the nightclub's boss wanted to introduce him to work at the strip club across the street, and Bruce had no choice but to quit.
Though employment that depends on one's looks was viable, to be a doorman at a mansion was the best role.
Generally, mansions under the protection of a powerful mob were safe places where no one dared to cause trouble. However, the leaders of the major mobs all recognized Bruce Wayne, as soon as he attempted to gain entry, he'd be whisked away to the top office and treated to fine tea and wine. After drinking plenty of expensive wine, Bruce was sent off yet again.
So, if these low-level jobs didn't work out, he could become a technician. The mobs were currently in dire need of technicians. Anyway, Bruce didn't think of doing difficult stuff, it would stray from his original intention. After all, his knowledge was dependent on his privileged education, a luxury not accessible to an average person in East District.
Bruce aimed to be a truck driver. After all, driving wasn't a difficult skill; most children in the East District, when they reached a certain age, were taught driving by older relatives or junior leaders of the mob. Even if not for long-distance freight hauling, occasional stand-in driving was acceptable.
Since the mobs were seriously short of drivers, Bruce only had to say he could drive, and they assigned him a truck immediately, making him responsible for transporting cargo from the city center to the dock.
It wasn't difficult; a year ago, a flyover had been built from the city center to the dock. Once you got on the flyover, you would get to the dock's collection point in less than three minutes after getting off.
Bruce thought, what could go wrong with such work? Urban freight transport, a distance of less than 20 kilometers, he didn't have to handle the loading or unloading. The mob provided lunch; had he finally reached stability?
But reality proved he was being too optimistic. Driving a truck was difficult, let alone the other aspects of the job.
First, this truck was not contracted to a single mob; it was generally used by the mobs of a certain area. Each mob had a different style, and he had to be careful to differentiate between them.
Some mobs liked to overload, holding a gun to your head and ordering you to load more goods, disregarding whether you could pass the inspection. Some mobs liked to smuggle contraband, so if contraband was discovered at the collection point, the truck driver would also be in trouble.
Besides, if you weren't familiar with the people at the collection point, it would be hard for you to find a good spot in line for unloading. Without someone directing you to reverse the vehicle, your efficiency would be very low.
Others could randomly cut in line at the collection point, quickly finishing unloading and running a second trip. Bruce, holding the steering wheel, sometimes had to wait for up to two hours.
Moreover, seeing him being young and unfamiliar, many porters liked to take advantage. They would knock on the truck window, asking for extortion money. If you didn't pay, your goods might be damaged, which would lead you into trouble with the mob.
Although the traffic condition in Gotham had improved, it hadn't improved entirely yet. In most cases, situations where a shotgun was pointed out of a window during traffic disputes were common. Bruce had just earned a little money, and he had to spend it on buying a gun and a bulletproof shield.
If you wanted to leave your truck overnight at the collection point, you could not just lock the fuel tank. You either had to hire someone to keep an eye on it or ask someone familiar to look after it. But to know people, you had to treat them to meals to develop relationships. This was the same in any country.
After a week of this work, Bruce's savings dropped from several dollars to just a few dollars. If it wasn't for the meals provided by the mob, he might have involuntarily started to lose weight.
Working at this level is always like this. If you don't fit in, the more you do, the more you lose, regardless of how long you do it. To fit in, besides spending time and energy, one must be humble, seek advice, integrate oneself into the industry's circle, and do things one may have found detestable earlier, becoming the person you used to detest.
The weight of the four words, 'forced by livelihood', is too great. No one understands how heavy a burden those who utter these words carry on their shoulders.
In recent days, Bruce has realised that what is more frightening than violent crime is the peaceful, endless, bottomless pit of poverty.
The citizens of Gotham are not poor, at least they are wealthier than those in other cities, but this day in and day out laborious life drains all their energy, leaving them no time to think, leading to a slow death.
As Batman stands high atop a building, looking down upon it all, he does not understand why these people do not have the strength or courage to break free from this life.
But once he is in their shoes, he discovers that in the cold, desolate nights of Gotham, the flames of vengeance ignited by anger can't even start a wisp of smoke.
In less than two weeks, Bruce, for the first time, has had thoughts of retreat. He feels he has gathered enough information, but something tells him it is far from enough, he has not hit rock bottom.
Consequently, he has no choice but to set sail once more, and, he has no intention of switching jobs again because he knows that the average Gothamite does not have the luxury of making many mistakes. They do not have strong bodies that can tolerate a week of starvation, nor do they have effective combat skills to escape when harassed by mobs.
At some point amidst the sufferings Bruce has experienced, an ordinary person can only huddle in a lonely corner and surrender to their fate, expressed with a smear of blood.
One day, as Bruce is driving on the overpass in a traffic jam, he turns his head and sees a familiar face.
The driver next to him is pale, with bright red lipstick, taking large bites of bread with his mouth wide open, seeing this Bruce hastens to wind up his window, but the driver beside him has already turned his head.
Seeing Bruce in the driver's seat, Joker Jack also freezes, the bread in his mouth suddenly loses its flavour, he removes the partially bitten piece of bread from his mouth, bringing out some crumbs.
He picks up these crumbs and tosses them in his mouth, rolls down his car window, and stretches his hand to knock on Bruce's window.
Bruce tries to maneuver the steering wheel to evade, but he is stuck in a traffic jam, there is no place to hide, Jack climbs out the window, holding onto the edge of the truck window with one hand and banging on Bruce's glass with the other.
Upon realising that he can't break the glass, Jack climbs back into his own truck, rummages through the seats, and then pulls out a large bomb.
Bruce immediately rolls his window down. He says: "Put that thing away! I'm warning you, this load is important, it's an urgent order, it has to be delivered within two hours. If you blow up this bridge, I will throw you down from here!"
Bomb in hand, Jack freezes again. He picks at his ear and says, "What did you say?"
"I said! If you! Dare blow the bridge! I will…"
"No, I mean the first part!" Jack yells back.
Bruce pauses for a moment and says, "This load is very important, it's an urgent order!"
Jack furiously downturns the corners of his mouth. With gloomy eyes, he glares at Bruce: "Why are you here? Why are you driving a truck? Why aren't you standing at the top of Wayne building, enjoying the breeze?"
Bruce does not want to answer him. Just as he is about to wind up the window, Jack pokes his head out of his own window again, places his hand on the window and sticks his head inside Bruce's truck.
Bruce rummages through the seats and then pulls out a bottle of mineral water, hitting Jack on the head with all his might, but instead of retreating, Jack grabs Bruce's arm with one hand and asks: "Damn it, why are you here? Answer me, answer me Batman, are you out of your mind?!"
Bruce takes a deep breath and glances out the other window. The road ahead is still jam-packed, the vehicles with a frequency of moving once every five minutes. Under normal circumstances, it would be impossible to get off the bridge within half an hour.
So he looks at Jack and says, "I am driving a truck because I need to earn money, because I am human, and I need to eat!"
Jack freezes for a moment, then suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter. With his mouth agape, he looks at Bruce and asks, "What did you say? Repeat it. This is the funniest joke I've heard this year!"
"I said, I am human, I need to eat, how would I eat if I had no money?"
Jack begins to howl with laughter again, continually pounding on the window of the car until he cries with laughter. Then, with tears in his eyes, he looks at Bruce and says:
"No money, how to eat? hahaha….hahaha!! Right! Without money, how can I eat?"