So, I survived the first night in Gotham. Barely.
You'd think killing a guy would mess me up, but honestly? It was him or me. Simple math. I wasn't about to let some random asshole take me out on my first day in this hellhole. Sure, I didn't sleep—not because of him, but because of Gotham. This place is like a never-ending nightmare, and you never know what's lurking around the corner.
Ding.
[Mission Updated: Explore Gotham, Find Shelter.]
"Yeah, no shit," I muttered, rubbing my temples. This system seemed real keen on giving me obvious advice. I needed somewhere to crash, that much was clear. Preferably somewhere that didn't smell like piss and murder.
The sun was creeping up over the horizon, and staying on this rooftop wasn't exactly the best survival tactic. Gotham's quiet in the mornings, but it's a fake kind of peace. One wrong move and you're on the six o'clock news as a statistic.
"Alright, Ethan," I told myself, my voice barely above a whisper. "Get your shit together."
I pulled up the system menu, hoping for a lifeline, maybe some kind of useful hint. Instead, I got hit with another mission.
Ding.
[New Mission: Find Weapons and Supplies.]
Of course. Because running around Gotham without a weapon is like walking into a firing range blindfolded. "Great, let's make this even more fun," I muttered.
I climbed down from the rooftop, moving fast. The streets were still mostly empty, but I wasn't dumb enough to think that meant they were safe. I needed to keep a low profile, avoid any of the usual Gotham freakshows, and most importantly, not get shot in the face.
As I walked, I kept my eyes open for anything remotely useful—food, a weapon, somewhere to lay low. The system might be a pain in the ass, but it wasn't wrong. I needed supplies, and fast.
Eventually, I found myself in front of a rundown gas station. The windows were smashed, and the door was hanging off its hinges, but it looked abandoned. Good enough for me.
I slipped inside, eyes scanning the shelves. Most of the good stuff had been cleared out, but I managed to find a half-empty roll of duct tape, a can of beans, and—most importantly—a baseball bat.
"Not exactly a gun, but I'll take it," I muttered, gripping the bat.
I stuffed the duct tape and beans into my jacket and headed toward the back of the store. There was a small office with the door ajar. Perfect place to hole up for a few hours. Or at least long enough to figure out my next move.
But just as I pushed open the door, I heard it—a low growl, like something straight out of a horror movie.
"Shit."
Before I could react, something lunged at me from the shadows. I barely had time to swing the bat before the thing crashed into me, knocking me to the floor. A dog. A fucking dog. And not the kind that licks your face. This thing looked half-dead, ribs poking through its mangy fur, eyes wild with hunger.
It snapped at my face, and I swung the bat, hard. The crack echoed through the room as the dog yelped and fell back, but it wasn't done yet. It snarled, blood dripping from its mouth as it staggered back to its feet.
"Yeah, not today, mutt."
I swung again, harder this time. The bat connected with the side of the dog's skull, and it dropped, twitching once before going still.
I stood there for a second, catching my breath. Killing a person was one thing, but a dog? Didn't matter. In Gotham, everything's trying to kill you. No time to feel bad about it.
Ding.
[Mission Complete: Find Weapons and Supplies.]
"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," I muttered, kicking the bat aside.
I looked around the room, half-expecting another monster to jump out at me, but it seemed like I was in the clear. I slumped down in a corner, back against the wall, trying to shake off the adrenaline.
So, this is it. This is my life now. Stuck in Gotham, playing survival horror with a video game system that thinks it's funny to mess with me. But hey, as long as I don't end up dead, I'll take what I can get.
I cracked open the can of beans and ate them cold. They tasted like cardboard, but I'd had worse. Gotham wasn't going to give me a five-star meal.
Leaning back, I stared at the ceiling, letting exhaustion finally pull me under. The last thing I heard before I drifted off were the distant sirens.