Chapter 2: Rule

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Surprisingly, it was not hard for the young rogue to find a hiring agency. Gotham was littered with them.

Jack managed to locate a lot of them yesterday while scooting out the surrounding areas. Considering what he now knew of the city, he would have thought those were a far concern for its inhabitants. But no, apparently, no matter how troubled a city was, alternate universe or not, the fundamental constant of people still needed to find jobs and pay rent held strong.

‘Ah life, beautiful, beautiful life.ʼ

Another two hours long bus commute later, and he stood in front of a Job Agency, situated in a neighborhood called Burnley, one which was close to Crime Alley.

Burnley Gotham Job Agency

Sponsored by the Wayne Foundation

This particular Job agency was apparently founded by Wayne Enterprise. Jack has his suspicions about this company. No multi-billion company was this benevolent – with a good notoriety and generally well-loved and respected by people – especially in a city like Gotham.

If it was ever proven, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the company was doing shady shits behind the scenes and was secretly responsible for the precarious state of the city and its status quo.

‘Something, something, chaos is a ladder, something something, I must create as much chaos as possible and seize the opportunities for power that will present themselves while putting myself as the Messiah in the time of need of people.ʼ

It wouldn’t be the first time that it happened after all.

His misgivings aside, they were still his best shot at finding a job that wouldn’t ask for awkward things like an ID or a social insurance number.

Putting on a small smile, he pushed open the door and stepped inside the building. The place was small but well organized, furnished with a carpet covering the entire surface of the floor. There were also some chairs for customers to sit on lined at each side of the room. The smell of tobacco and coffee heavily wafted in the air.

Despite the nice furniture and the security inside – in the form of a bored, gun-carrying security guard standing at the threshold – the place was completely empty. The only other person being a female employee sitting in the center of the small room and slumped on the desk.

Bruce Wayne was probably losing money funding this thing as obviously not a lot of people were making use of the service in place.

His suspicions about Wayne Enterprise only further increased.

Then again, it was nearly 4 in the afternoon, outside, the streets were already plunged in semi-darkness, and from every piece of information he learned, the city wasn’t safe at night. So maybe he should not be hasty in your judgment and give the company more credit along with the benefit of the doubt…

Jack stepped forward, smile still tugging on his lips even when the employee gave him a dubious look-over, raising an eyebrow at his charming smile and sunny disposition. No doubt the employee was not used to seeing a smiling person waddled inside the place.

"Looking for work?” The female employee grunted, doing her best to look terribly apathetic. Her tag read ‘Jennifer’ – black frizzy hair, plump lips and a big chest – his horny mind noticed. Also, she looked exhausted.

Then again, everyone in this city looks exhausted and listless.

"Yep," Jack affirmed, popping the p. He wasn’t going to let them drag down his good cheer. If he'd managed to keep even a semblance of false cheer after witnessing his entire life and world as he knew it collapse, then it wasn’t some underpaid employee that would make him lose some polite cheerfulness.

Beaming, he continued. “I’m looking for a job, one that won’t ask for an ID or social insurance number. I won’t say no if it’s slightly shady either!”

"I–" The clerk stared at him, baffled. "–ok…. Okay. You do know that we are legally and contractually obliged to report you to the authorities if you’re looking for illegal work, right? Even if it’s our job to keep people like you away from the gangs by giving them better job options than the ones they’re offered, I won’t shy away from reporting you to the cops."

“I know,” he chuckled. “It’s a joke. Obviously, someone looking for illegal work won’t simply stride into a job agency and ask to be given one.”

Jennifer stared at him again, wondering if he was lying or telling the truth before giving up, probably deciding that she wasn’t paid enough to care.

“It wasn't funny,” she huffed before bending down – doing things to her chest – and retrieving something from one of her desk’s bottom drawers and handing it to him.

It was a sheet of paper, covered in small print with listing names and phone numbers.

"All of those places will let you work for a commission." Jennifer explained. "Won’t ask questions too. I can’t give you any contract without seeing your papers."

Jack simply smiled at her, which made her roll her eyes, as if she had been expecting all along that he could not provide any identification.

“A joke, huh… wonder if it truly was…” She mumbled as he gratefully picked up the sheet of paper and took his leave but not before waving the older woman and the security guard goodbye while wishing them a nice day. That earned him a snort from the security guard, and an eye roll from the woman, which he caught thanks to the [chamber] he’d opened before entering the building.

Stepping under the afternoon dark clouds, Jack was blasted by the icy wind and humid air. They felt like someone injected ice right into his veins, making him shiver from the cold.

‘Right, next time, gotta dress for the weather.’

As he began walking away, staring at the list in his hands, at the foreign names inscribed on it, and at the addresses listed, he quickly narrowed his choice of possibilities to two jobs that were in the general vicinity but also relatively close to his home base.

Turning his head to glance at the sky, he remarked that it was already dark, the sun had already started to set despite the fact that it couldn’t be later than 4 in the afternoon.

Jack looked at the two job addresses listed that were in his vicinity and pondered which one he should try to contact or even go to in person…

In the end, he decided to settle for the one that was a little closer to his new hideout.

Decision taken, he got on the move.

---

Walking in the streets of the city while there wasn’t much visibility and without the feeling of safety that his costume conferred, was a nerve-wracking experience for him. Jack constantly kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings, opened and closed a [Chamber] to stay aware of things in a radius of 20 meters around him, and avoided taking any back alley.

At the end of the 30-minute walk to reach his hideout, he was relieved to have arrived without getting pulled over, but also to find the place as deserted as he’d left it this morning.

It took him no time at all to put on his costume, and the moment his helmet mecha-shifted around his face, Jack all but sighed in relief. After everything he learned and the warning signs he saw, there was no way he would start working a potentially dangerous job – that didn’t ask for an ID – while being in his civilian identity. He would reserve another work – preferably one that was as safe and cushy as possible – for it when he had enough funds and money to craft a new identity.

For now, he would work using his supe’s alter ego. Something he’s been used to doing and has been doing for the better parts of the last three months now.

It was a familiar territory for him.

“Alright, Gotham. Hit me. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

On a cold and humid Friday night, Rule was about to make his debut.

---

Jack stopped in front of a pizzeria as the sky completely darkened and the streets of Gotham took on a dreary look. In the distance, he could hear the sound of gunshots and sirens.

The pizzeria’s front was a mix of old brick walls painted in a bright red, and wooden planks, giving a traditional, homey vibe to the shop. A sign hanging above and at the center of the pizzeria that read ‘Lorenzo’s Autentico Pizzeria’ was displayed in capital black letters on a white background.

The sight of damaged buildings, wrecked cars and cracked pavement was a familiar one to him now. The restaurant itself looked like it had seen better days, with its front door’s handle limply hanging and what looked like a few bullet holes dotting its brick walls. Though looking at the location of the pizzeria – which was in the middle of Burnley, not far from where his hideout was located in Crime Alley – he guessed that it was normal for it to be in such a pitiful state. This neighborhood was far from safe after all.

As he pushed open the door, he heard the distinct sound of someone shuffling in the back kitchen to come meet him.

“I’m coming!” A voice gruffly said.

He was greeted by a man in his mid-to-late forties slowly coming out of what he assumed was the back room – the kitchen.

The man was short, shorter than him by a good two inches or three, with dirty blonde hair that was greying, and an elaborate tressed mustache the same dirty blonde color. The older man was wearing a grease-stained white apron and white toque, and judging by the heavy limp with which he moved, there was a reason why he was looking for a new employee.

‘It’s probably going to be a delivery job,’ Jack deduced. This part of town was so unsafe and probably so bad that no one wanted to venture here to eat, less so at late hours.

“Are you here for–” Upon seeing him, the owner of the pizzeria froze, doing a double take at his appearance.

“Hi!” Jack chirped, but it came out deeper and distorted thanks to the voice modulator installed in his helmet, “I’m here for the job!”

The older man eyed him warily, subtly angling himself so that most of his body was hidden between the counter and the kitchen’s door trim opening.

“I don’t remember posting a job’s offer for a–” The older man trailed off, giving him a leery once-over. “Mercenary.”

Jack let out a small chuckle. Once again, it came out deeper and echoed throughout the room, making the older man’s shoulders tense. He winced behind his helmet. Yeah, under the voice modulator, his laughter sounded eerie as fuck. He could see how that would be deeply unsettling.

“Yeah, isn’t this the place that lets you work on commission?” He instead powered through to question. And before the older man could answer, he continued. “Well, I was given this address and told that you accepted anyone without asking questions.”

“I don’t know what kind of job you expected coming here dressed like this,” The man slowly responded, “But you won’t find it in this place. This is a humble pizzeria, not a front for a drug trafficking den, or other such things.”

“I would hope so,” Jack jovially answered, and yet, once again, it came out slightly… menacing. “I came here because I was recommended and told that the job was legal,” He nodded at the place. “And I’m not interested in being a drug dealer or being another person contributing to the worsening of this city.” Then concluded before asking, “So, sir, are you looking for a hire?”

The older man stared scrutinizingly at him for a small moment before ultimately sighing and shaking his head. He saw the exact moment the man was convinced to give him the benefit of the doubt as well as a chance to prove himself. The tension that was locking his shoulder left him, leaving him slightly drained and exhausted.

“Okay,” The man said, wiping his hand on his apron and walking over to him. Close, Jack could smell the distinct scent of spices, tobacco, oil and beer clinging to him. “I’ll be honest then, the pay is shit. I don’t think that it would be worth it to someone like you. With your getup, you can waltz in any other place and be hired as muscle to intimidate people, or a bouncer if you try your chance at a nightclub.”

“The pay won’t be a problem, sir. I’m new in town and want to get my footing. This job is good for that. Besides, we have to start somewhere.” Jack said with cheer that didn’t translate well before giving up and simply shrugging, “And at the risk of repeating myself, like I said, I’m looking for a legal job that won’t ask me questions.”

“The job's yours then,” The older man grunted, relenting.

“Let’s talk about the job then, I presume it’s delivery, right?”

“You‘ll be correct,” The older man, who was probably the owner of this small pizzeria, crossed his arms. "I’m Lorenzo Verratti, the owner of this pizzeria. And as for the job, it’s simple. The job is to deliver to anyone who asks. Everywhere.” Lorenzo began to explain. “So cauz of that, it’s a bit more expensive, but people were willing to pay the extra fee if it meant getting hot pizza in raunchy neighborhoods. I’d forged a solid reputation for reliably delivering food to parts of town other shops would shalk at delivering. I used to do the deliveries myself before but–“ He waved at his foot, gesturing to the wooden appendage. “As you can see, I’m no longer up to the task. So, even if I know it’s a dumb question to ask at this point, I still gotta ask it. The job is dangerous, the pay is shit. You will have to go out and make night deliveries in gangs-infested parts of towns, and potentially get shanked, mugged or shot. So, son, knowing all of this, are you still up for the task?”

‘Oh oh oh! Now this is interesting! This job won’t be as dull as I thought. I’m so glad I made the spontaneous decision to do it in costume.’

Grin stretching on his lips, heart wildly pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribcage, Jack slowly tilted his head to the left and spoke.

“I’ll deliver.” He tried to quickly think of a cool, catchy one-liner but could only come out with this line.

Hopefully, he radiated enough levels of: ‘Danger, do not fuck around with me if you don’t want to find out what happens’ vibes with his supe’s costume to make it sound badass instead of lame.

“Good, good.” Lorenzo nodded, sounding relieved. “Good. It’s settled then. Guess we’ll be working together now. You get 5$ a delivery and you keep all the tips, and–” In the midst of giving him his sales pitch, Lorenzo disappeared to the back before coming back and saying, “You also get this.”

The older man set on the counter a monstrosity of a gadget that seemed to have once been a car GPS, tore straight from its stand before being hooked to a portable battery and cobbled together to be affixed on a wrist. Looking at it, he wondered if the old man wasn’t some kind of Genius for crafting something like that. Sure, while it may look clunky and old, he could see that it was assembled with care and should work.

"Did you steal this off a car?” Jack asked with amusement even while mounting the GPS on his wrist. Pressing on the power button on the side, the screen slowly flickered before lighting up and displaying a map of the city.

‘Not bad,’ He let out a slow whistle at the interface’s system. ‘Not bad at all.’

The glare he received for his idle question made him chuckle.

"No, I didn’t." Lorenzo tersely grunted, "Now, to get onto the job, I only got ten commands as I haven’t delivered in a while. At least as far as first deliveries go, it should be easier on you. Will you be able to manage this amount?"

He nodded his head and gave him an ok sign.

The older man looked at him then shook his head before limping back into the kitchen. Soon, he came back with a pile of boxes and dropped them in front of him. They were pizza boxes with his pizzeria logo etched on top.

Each pizza box had a small note glued on top, with an address scribbled on it, and an order of delivery. Curiously, there was no name attached. This was already setting the mood for what you could expect from the job..

Jack entered each address into the GPS before, and at Lorenzo’s prompting, he followed him to the back of the restaurant. Lorenzo bent down to open a cupboard and pulled out a red parka with black highlights that he tossed over at him. He easily caught it.

Turning it over to check it, he saw ‘Lorenzo’s Autentico Pizzeria’ woven at the back of the fabric‘s parka. A pretty standard print-to-order employee uniform he’s seen a thousand times on every delivery man before.

“You can wear this over your getup.” Lorenzo said, “Now that you’re my employee, people need to recognize this. So wear the coat when delivering and with some luck, you won’t be mistaken for another insane criminal with your costume.”

Jack complied with his request and put on the parka over his shoulder. While he was doing so, Lorenzo put the pizza in a tall rectangular backpack that would hold in the pizza and that he would holster to his back to make the deliveries.

Once done, Lorenzo accompanied him to the threshold of the shop to see him out.

"Good luck, son." The older man wished him before Jack left. And warned, "I know you may be able to handle yourself, but still, be careful out there."

With the gravitas with which he has warned him, it almost seemed like he was sending him off to war.

And he might have been in a city like Gotham.

Jack walked off into the night, stepping onto the dimly lit streets of Gotham City.

According to his GPS, his first stop of the night was going to be in Crime Alley.

As he broke into a slow jog, he couldn’t restrain the small smile that emerged on his lips.

He was coming full circle.