02: Never Try To Rob Frieren In Gotham

Frieren didn't like Gotham.

The first time she visited the city she was accosted by a mugger in a place called Crime Alley. What kinda city has a place named Crime Alley, she had thought. A city in New Jersey, Hikigaya Hachiman had supplied decades later.

The mugger had a gun.

Frieren had magic.

One offensive spell later, Frieren had put the fear of the Goddess in the man.

He was traumatized for life and suffered from a total mental breakdown. To add salt to injury, the elf maiden decided to rob him blind under the threat of more magical violence and confiscated all the stolen items he had under his possession.

Frieren's logic had been sound. She was robbing a robber; that didn't count as robbery. Just ask Robin Hood.

Besides, this was Gotham.

This was a dog eat dog world.

The mugger was probably used to it. He was probably waiting to be shot in the head and put out of his misery. Or whatever it is magical folks do to kill off criminals like him.

The mugger had accepted his fate.

He didn't run, he couldn't move.

If he wasn't born and bred in Gotham and wasn't a hardened criminal, he would be lying in the dirty alley in a fetal position and crying his eyes out.

Frieren didn't do guns. How muggle. Wait, she was in America and in this part of the world, they called them No-Maj.

Frieren let out a world weary sigh.

Humans were so confusing sometimes.

Why would you try to rob a staff-wielder with a gun? Things will not end well for you, the person armed with the gun. That's basic common sense. They probably taught that at Hogwarts. Wait, she was in America. The Wizarding School here was called Ilvermorny.

Frieren didn't care.

But she deserved to be compensated for the minor inconvenience that her would-be mugger had caused.

Tonight, she was in town to see a movie.

And she was already thirty minutes late.

Granted, she had decided to have a little afternoon nap and woke up late in the evening and being twenty minutes late to the movie theatre was actually her fault, but the rest of the ten minutes were on him, this mugger lurking in Crime Alley.

Therefore, she was completely justified in robbing him of all the stolen money he had in his possession. Which was not a lot, not nearly enough to buy a new grimoire from Madam Xanadu's magic shop. Nimue drove a hard bargain and she was an immortal sorceress, so Frieren couldn't use her old tried and true tactics and just wait for the blind hag to croak.

Frieren felt a bit bitter with the world.

Himmel was dead.

And she had yet to find a grimoire with a spell or ritual which could resurrect the dead and bring the legendary hero of yore back to life. Her life.

And so, without thinking things through, Frieren threw the gun back at the mugger and gave him some free, unsolicited advice.

"You should probably leave this life of crime behind, Joe."

The mugger's eyes widened. "H-How did you know my name?"

Frieren was a skilled Legilimen, but she figured if she were to explain the complex magical art of Legilimency to a muggle she would be here all day. And nigh immortal though she may be, she just didn't have the time.

So, she went with the much more easier and digestible explanation. "I can read minds."

Joe didn't believe her. Gothamites were born cynics.

He scoffed. "Whatever you say, crazy lady. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go back to robbing people at gunpoint who are stupid enough to come through Crime Alley at night."

Frieren had to admit, Joe had a point there.

People who walked through Crime Alley on foot, unarmed, deserved to get shot.

But that was probably the Gothamite in her talking and she hadn't even been here for long.

Really, this city was the absolute worst.

Who would want to live here?

People with nowhere left to go, Frieren's mind readily supplied, and those who like to punish themselves.

However, at times like these, when she came face to face with a crisis of faith, Frieren would decide to look deep within her and ask herself the question:

What would Himmel do?

And the answer was pretty simple.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked.

Frieren tired to smile. In this economy, nothing came cheap. But Himmel's voice echoed in her head and she was left with no other choice. Oh, the things an elf maiden does for the love of her male human.

"I'm giving you my tickets to the movies. There's a screening of 'The Mark of Zoro' tonight. I got good seats. You will be rubbing shoulders with all the rich and famous people in town. Don't make me regret this, Joe."

Joe didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

A night at the movies might actually cheer him up. Plus, in this economy, only the rich ever went to see movies. The night was young and he might get lucky the second time around.

So, he lied through his teeth as he pocketed the movie ticket. "I promise, I'll be good."

Frieren choose to believe him.

It's what Himmel would have done.

The elf maiden even cracked a bad joke. "And if you still want to commit crimes, try robbing the rich. Sic semper tyrannis or what not."

As if he would ever come across a rich person in this part of town, Frieren thought to herself. As if this poor down-on-his-luck mugger understood a word of Latin. Frieren was sure most Americans didn't even speak proper English. Just ask the Brits. But inevitably there was something he got from their short conversation.

"The rich?" Joe questioned. "Like women who wear expensive jewelry? Pearls?" He was talking more to himself than her.

Frieren didn't like where he was going with this.

The last thing she wanted on her conscience was a rich, dead heiress. But she had never been any good when it came to making small talk and steering the conversation away from dangerous subjects. That had been one of Himmel's many talents. Not hers. Yet, she tried her level best.

"Or rich males." Frieren added.

Fortunately, in Gotham, there were enough corrupt, rich men to go around and she was fine with one of them turning up dead in a sewer at Crime Alley.

But again, that was very unlikely to ever happen. The rich had their own private home movie theatres at their lavish mansions. And the poor were used to watching pirated copies of movies.

Frieren thought her conscience was clear.

Meanwhile, Joe Chill had also made up his mind. The mugger had learnt his lesson. No more Mister Nice Guy.

The next person or persons (plural) he tries to rob tonight will be shot and killed before he even tries to rob them of their wallet, watch and expensive jewelry.

He was pretty sure there would be no far reaching consequences for his action. This was Gotham.

No one will bat an eye.

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