Chapter 743: Rain in Gotham Tonight (Part 2) (Patreon)

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“Have you decided on the location for your restaurant? Is it still in the East District?”

Schiller and Copperpot were led by a waiter into Falcone Manor. As they walked, Schiller inquired about Copperpot's new restaurant.

“Yes, the location is set. It's not far from the East District Pier, near the old Edward family's mansion,” Copperpot replied.

“It seems you are quite ambitious,” Schiller said with a smile.

“It’s all thanks to Godfather,” Copperpot replied, his gaze downward. “Originally, that place served the rich. When I proposed transforming it into a regular restaurant accessible to the Pier workers, he didn’t object.”

“That shows he has high hopes for you.”

Schiller looked up and through the long porch, he could already see Godfather sitting at the main seat in the dining room. He hadn’t aged much since their last meeting, still standing tall and looking vigorous.

Entering the restaurant, Schiller and Falcone embraced. It had indeed been a long time since they last met.

Ever since Alberto started handling the Falcone Family business, he had little spare time for classes, with only Evans attending college regularly. But Schiller seldom tutored him alone, as his grades were good.

“God bless you, Professor. What have you been busy with lately?” Falcone asked.

“The usual,” Schiller replied, taking a cigar from a waiter and puffing on it. “Preparing lectures, teaching, writing papers. Also, I’ve become a home tutor for the Wayne Family’s children.”

Falcone, too, took a puff of his cigar and said with a smile, “Surprising that young Wayne is having children so early. I hope Evans settles down soon too.”

“A man never really grows up until he's married. I understand this,” Godfather said, tapping the desktop lightly with his finger. “If he can’t learn to take on family responsibilities and protect women and children, he has no right to speak on any matter. That's how I’ve always ruled the Twelve Families.”

“Family does tend to make a man more mature,” Schiller said after a pause. “But some need to learn more.”

Falcone seemed to understand whom he was referring to. He relaxed and smiled, saying, “If a man chooses a difficult path, he should bear the consequences. Often, he must sacrifice a lot.”

Schiller, turning his head, saw Falcone squinting through the drifting cigarette smoke, lost in thought.

“Your Excellency, Godfather, perhaps we all think this way. When you teach someone, you want to say more, but you know well that some things can’t be taught through words alone. Sometimes, you don’t want them to pay a price, yet you know they must.”

“At that time, I weigh what price he must pay. If it’s just a fall, then let him fall,” Falcone said, leaning to the side and resting his elbow on the chair’s armrest.

“A man will have a moment in his life when he falls hard. If not today, then tomorrow. So, let it be,” Falcone said, waving his hand.

“Is it the same for Evans?” Schiller asked with a smile.

“Of course not. He’s far from a mature man,” Falcone said, exhaling another puff of smoke. “He's improving, though. Maybe after getting married, he'll get better.”

“Let’s talk business. Copperpot, how is your restaurant doing? Have you started work on it?” Falcone turned to Copperpot.

Copperpot, never looking directly at Godfather, focused on the table and said, “Yes, the renovation is almost complete. But there have been some issues with the suppliers I contacted. I’m negotiating with them.”

“You must show your strength,” Falcone shook his head. “Don’t just negotiate. Threaten them. Put a gun to their heads. Remember, in Gotham, you need to be a Gang member before you can be a businessman.”

“The location you chose is both the best and the worst. Every Pier worker in the East District resents it, as it’s off-limits to them. No matter how much they earn, they can’t enter.”

“Once, old Edward’s sister wanted an invitation to the mansion so badly she tried to seduce me. I didn’t like her, so she turned to someone else. She got in but was soon thrown out, as she wasn’t a lady of the family at the time.”

“I guess opening a mansion used for Twelve Families' gatherings in the most prosperous part of East District has its purposes?” Schiller asked.

“Correct. I want them to see a world they can’t touch. They’ll feel angry, jealous, almost crazy.”

“They won’t work harder, knowing that no amount of labor can afford them such a life. They’ll turn to stealing, robbing, even murder. I’m encouraging such behavior.”

“As long as they do the same as a Gang, they must follow my rule. If everyone obeyed the law, Gotham would be doomed.”

“Being orderly means being weak and exploitable. You can be a fierce slave, but not an independent weakling.”

“People of Gotham know they can be vicious, fierce, cold, but they must never show weakness. Once they start crying, they’re practically holding their own funeral. Once a person cries, they lose the strength to resist.”

As Falcone spoke, his cigar burned halfway. The smoke hovered close to his fingers, swirling around them like mist rising from vines in the early morning, weaving through the tall trees.

“Why don’t you cry?” In a hospital room, Batman looked around at the eight children surrounding him and asked, “Why do you only scream but shed no tears? Can’t you cry?”

Everyone stood quietly around him. Batman knelt down to their level. The relatively strong white boy among them, the cutest, stepped forward and said:

“Hello, what work do you want us to do?” He lowered his head, twisting his shirt corner with his hand. “We’re too young for paper delivery. If it’s begging, I, Bigfoot, and Square can go to the outer streets. The rest can only work on the inner streets.”

“I don’t want you to work,” Batman repeated. “I want you to lie in the hospital bed, not yell and bite the doctors who try to give you shots.”

But the boy ignored him, continuing, “You're our new boss. We’ll call you 'Dad.' The bigger children and I only need half a loaf of bread each day, the rest just a quarter. We’ll give you all our money. We’re good children.”

Batman stood there, pressing his forehead with his finger, feeling his breath slow.

He moved closer to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes, and said, “I'm not those ‘Daddies and Mommies.’ I'm here to rescue you. I won’t make you beg on the streets and give me the money.”

But Batman saw a look of terror in the little boy's eyes. The boy seemed to be suppressing his fear and said, “Dad... I mean, sir, we are too young, we... we can't do that kind of work... Maybe, maybe when we get older...”

Batman understood what he meant. As he was about to speak, he noticed the other children trembling incessantly. The frailest little girl couldn't hold back anymore and wailed, “I've seen... I've seen what they did to Serena... She died, and I will too...”

All the children began to howl incessantly, emitting various unintelligible screams, but there were no tears. They all ran to a corner and huddled together, unable to communicate.

“Stop crying!”

Batman finally lowered his voice. He no longer spoke in the tone he used with Aisha or Dick, but addressed the group of children.

When he spoke in this tone, he realized he sounded like he was scolding criminals.

Amazingly, after his rebuke, all the children stopped crying. They squatted on the spot, staring at Batman with wide eyes. Batman took a deep breath, feeling a deep sense of helplessness.

All the children in the room were older than Aisha, but in reality, their stature wasn't much different from hers. Some of the younger ones even looked smaller than Aisha.

Facing such children, Batman couldn't force them to do anything. He could only comfort them repeatedly, trying to establish a sense of order and security.

As the night deepened, the continuous rain grew heavier. The raindrops created a hazy halo when they hit the sea. The lights of Gotham Pier shone ceaselessly. With better logistics, there were more people here now.

Not far from the Pier, a mansion, out of place with its surroundings, stood. But now, its sign had been changed to “Iceberg Lounge.”

The building was too big to be a restaurant, with seven floors, a luxurious door, and dozens of parking spaces. It was deserted because the restaurant hadn't opened yet, but many people were curiously peeking inside.

In the center of the restaurant, Copperpot stood in front of the reception desk, addressing nine children:

“Listen, now, I'm your boss, your new employer. Your new job isn't begging outside; that doesn't make much money.”

“See? This whole building is mine. Now, lift your heads and take a good look around. With your limited knowledge and vision, understand the materials of every item here, and you'll know who I am.”

All the children did as told, initially not looking seriously. But soon, they were captivated by the elaborate and magnificent ceiling.

The first floor's hall used to be a dance floor, so the ceiling had exquisite carvings, all of which had been preserved. These children had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.

Gotham's begging children were rare. Most of these kids were abandoned babies picked up by mothers, living their whole lives in narrow, dark alleys. Even if they worked in the streets, they only found a broken, rotten corner to sit in, never daring to look up at people.

Soon, they all opened their mouths, turning their heads constantly, looking at everything they had never seen before. They might not have seen these things, but they could understand their beauty. It was a human instinct.

“Alright, you should see that I'm much richer than your former boss. I killed your previous employer and took you from them. The purpose is to make more money for myself.”

Copperpot spoke very plainly, without using any words that would be too difficult for the illiterate, so the children easily understood what he was saying.

Then, the strongest among them stood up and asked, “What work do you want us to do?”

“You're the leader of this group, right? Come here.” Copperpot gestured to the floor in front of him. The child slowly walked over, and Copperpot pointed around the restaurant, saying, “Right now, my restaurant hasn't opened yet. Your job is to clean this place during this time.”

“Listen, I'm not like those poor beggars. Starving you will only make you too weak to work. So, here, you can eat your fill. You'll sleep in the basement, four people to a room, two to a bed. You'll have two sets of identical janitor uniforms to wear.”

“But working here isn't about finding a corner to sit in. You must follow the rules, or there will be consequences.”

“You'll have two meals a day, at 7 a.m. and 2 p.m., with bread and some leftovers. The stove can be used for heating. If you want water, go find a tap. When the guests are gone, roll back to your room and don't wander around.”

“On the road here, you should have seen where it is, your former workplace on the street. If you run out at night, no one will be looking for your corpse in the trash tomorrow morning.”

“And don't let me catch any of you stealing. You should know the consequences.”

“We won't steal anything. We'll hand everything over to you. We are good children,” said the leading boy.

“Good, now go back to your rooms. Don't come out if there's nothing important.” Saying this, Copperpot signaled to a tall and muscular subordinate to take the children to the basement.

Unseen by anyone, the leading boy's mouth muscles twitched as he turned around, revealing a smile like a surprise.

Back to Gotham again.

Sigh, home at last (collapses).

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 744: Gotham 1990