Martin Variety in American Comics.

Chapter 1 Martin! Martin!
At night, in an alley in Gotham.

boom!
The sound of gunfire broke the silence of the night.

Martin, dressed in cowboy clothes, used his left hand to prop up the brim of his cowboy hat that had slid down from his head, revealing his brown pupils and slightly cute round face under his round glasses.

He held an old-fashioned revolver in his right hand. A wisp of white smoke slowly drifted out of the muzzle, and the smell of burning gunpowder spread throughout the alley along with the white smoke.

Just seconds ago, Martin had just knocked away a bullet that was fired at him.

At this moment, there were three white men standing in front of him. Their exposed bodies and shoulders were covered with large tattoos, and there were nose rings and nails on their noses and lips.

Martin frowned and asked, "This is the first time I've seen a robbery that starts with killing people. Aren't you afraid that I don't have any money on me and I'll lose a life in vain?"

"Shit, no meat!"

Several white men spoke with black accents, waved their guns, and said nonchalantly: "It's a mistake, who doesn't have a few lives in this ghost city? This is the rule of the game in Gotham, don't play if you don't like it!"

"Gotham!"

Martin sighed helplessly: "Why did I end up in such a hellish place?"

Traveling across the world is nothing new for Martin.

The first time he traveled through time, he became Martin.

His talent awakened after he was six years old. Every morning when he woke up, he would change his identity, fight wits and courage with various people, make new friends, and explore the new world.

On his eighteenth birthday, he arrived in Gotham in the blink of an eye.

Alien planets, underwater, other worlds... There are only a handful of places he has not been to.

But Gotham, this world has too many dangers and troubles!
Fortunately, my parents, Guo Mo and Luo Na didn’t come with us, otherwise it would have been troublesome.

Martin's comments about Gotham resonated with the robbers, and they also cursed: "We also want to ask, why were we born in such a hellhole?"

Seeing their hysterical expressions, Martin suggested, "It's rare that we have the same views on Gotham. It can be considered fate. Let's part ways now!"

"Of course not."

The robber refused without hesitation: "We are from Gotham, and we must do things the way of Gotham. Today, either you die or we die."

"Does it have to be this way?"

Martin shook his head helplessly. He simply didn't want to bother with these zombies who lived on drugs, but these people obviously had no clear understanding of their own abilities.

"It would be better if you are willing to pay." The three robbers felt that the boy in front of them was cowardly.

"OK then!"

Martin was helpless. His eyes suddenly became sharp, his hands turned into phantoms, and the revolver in his hand spewed out dazzling flames, illuminating the alley shrouded in darkness.

Bang, bang...

Five gunshots rang out in the alley at once, the intervals between them being so short that it sounded like only one shot was fired.

The gun in his hand was shot away by the revolver bullet.

The three robbers' faces, already pale from excessive drug use, turned even paler.

At the moment the pistol was shot away, two other people's knees were shot through, blood splattered, bones broken, and they fell to the ground with a thud, holding their wounds and starting to wail.

This is who Martin is today – the legendary Western gunslinger!

Although the performance of the revolver in his hand was not as good as that of a modern automatic pistol, these robbers were obviously not good at using guns.

When it comes to the American-style Iai skill, they are far less skilled than Martin, the outsider.

"Now you are the only one left."

Martin looked up and stared sharply over the brim of his hat at the only person standing.

"Get out of here!"

Martin waved the empty revolver in his hand.

"You only have six bullets in your revolver. You've used them all up now!"

Although these three robbers are not very smart, they are indeed not afraid of death.

The remaining guy saw that Martin's revolver was empty, revealed a mouthful of rotten teeth, took out a switchblade and ran up to Martin to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

"Alas, I hate this city full of violence and intrigue." Martin sighed.

Immediately, gunshots were heard again in the alley, and the last robber had both knees shot through.

"I never said I only have one gun." Martin said in a cold tone, holding the second gun.

"I gave you a chance, but you didn't cherish it."

Martin pointed the black muzzle of the gun at someone's head and ordered:
"Now, take out all the valuables on you. I only want banknotes and items that can be easily converted into cash."

Under the threat of death, the three robbers endured the pain and took out all the things on their bodies. In total, there was more than 500 yuan in cash, which they had just robbed and were about to throw away before they could even warm up to it.

As for rings and jewelry, although there was no place to cash them, Martin still kept them after the other party took them out.

Martin waved a stack of green bills and said, "This is a great deal. If you have more money than you can spend, you're welcome to come to me again!"

Damn it, you think of us as ATMs, right?

Damn bastard.

Looking at the black muzzle of the gun pointed at him, the robber, who had felt a little more confident because of the loss of money, became deflated again.

If we can't afford to offend us, can't we just hide from us?

Martin met their hostile looks, waved his hand and said, "Go away!"

Gotham is a cruel place. Three drug addicts with no money and no weapons may freeze to death on the streets of the slums in a few days if they are lucky.

If you are unlucky, you will be captured by gangs and have your usable organs removed to pay off your debts.

Or, even worse!

Martin didn't want to dirty his hands, so he waved his revolver, signaling them to get out.

The two guys who only lost one leg stood up instantly, helped their companion up, and limped away.

The robber whose legs were broken couldn't help but curse: "You two bastards actually pretended to be dead and used me as a shield. Do you still want brotherhood?"

"Is this your first day in Gotham? Friendship is bullshit. It's not as important as your own life."

The three men left cursing.

Martin then left the alley and returned to his residence in Gotham.

This single-family house is similar to his original home, the only difference is that it has been changed from an apartment to an American-style house.

Martin is now a legendary western gunslinger, so there are many early 19th century rifles and swords in the house, as well as numerous medals and newspapers telling his deeds.

"Ah, another day is coming to an end!"

Martin threw the stolen cash into the drawer in the living room, walked into the bedroom, took off his jeans, put on pajamas, and fell directly on the soft bed.

"What will I encounter tomorrow? I hope I can go home! There are too many troubles in this world, and I don't want to stay here for long."

Muttering this to himself, Martin covered himself with the quilt, his eyelids felt heavy, and he gradually fell asleep.

In his dream, he saw his parents and two good friends. They seemed to be calling him, but when he reached out to grab them, he found nothing.

When he opened his eyes again, it was already daybreak and Martin's pajamas had changed.

He got out of bed and stood in front of the mirror, looking at the classic three-piece suit of cloak, deerstalker hat and gourd pipe.

"Looking like this, am I a detective today?"

Martin stroked his newly grown stubble and thought, "Well, as a detective in Gotham, I always feel like something bad is going to happen today."

ding ding ding...

As soon as he walked out of the bedroom, he heard the doorbell. He ran to open the door and saw a handsome old man wearing a yellow windbreaker and glasses standing at the door.

The first thing he said was: "Martin, Batman needs your help!"

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(End of this chapter)