Chapter 814: Red Hood (Part Eight) (Patreon)

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The elegant English script adorned the pristine paper, basking in the faint afternoon sunlight that filtered through the curtains. As the light danced upon the words, it brought the scenes depicted within to life.

The paper was slowly set down, and behind it, Schiller pushed his glasses up and reached for his coffee cup, taking a sip.

Beside him, Victor leaned in and asked, "What are you reading, a research paper?"

"No, it's more like a travelogue," Schiller replied. "Bruce wrote it. Would you like to take a look?"

Schiller handed the stack of papers to Victor, who glanced at the first page and remarked with surprise, "Is this really written by Bruce? The actions described here don't quite seem like Bruce..."

"I told you, he's changed a lot lately," Schiller said. "If it weren't for his recent epiphanies and newfound perspective, you'd be reading an incomprehensible philosophical discourse instead of this more readable travelogue."

Victor nodded and turned to the second page. "His writing is quite good, concise yet elegant, and he has skillfully crafted the environment and atmosphere."

Schiller picked up his empty coffee cup and walked over to the coffee machine. Turning back, he said, "Keep reading. You'll find more surprises."

The rich coffee dripped into the cup, slowly filling it, much like the streets of Gotham being soaked again by heavy rain after the sun had set.

"Hurry up! You're the last one!" The elder sister called out to another child as he approached. She asked, "Why are you back so late? Did you get lost?"

The child climbed into the truck's compartment with quick steps and replied, "It's been a really unlucky day for me. The person I was supposed to deliver to changed their mind, so now I need to figure out how to sell these items."

"Come in quickly. We've heated some water, and you can take a bottle to warm your hands." The elder sister handed him a plastic water bottle, which had been deformed by the hot water. The child chuckled and said, "Thank you, but I'm not cold. Give it to those little guys over there."

Inside the compartment, more than twenty children huddled closely together. Twelve on the left, eleven on the right, almost all of them wrapped in blankets. Meanwhile, a few older children had used extra torn blankets and quilts to seal any gaps around the truck.

After a while, Bruce, holding a wrench, walked up and said, "I checked the truck while the rain was lighter. The engine isn't damaged, but it might be some other issue causing it not to start. If we can fix it today, we can drive to higher ground."

The elder sister waved her hand and said, "That's already good enough. You should go check on Jason in the front cabin. Take this bottle of hot water; I'm worried he might be cold."

Bruce took the bottle and the elder sister looked around cautiously before speaking in a hushed tone, "If Jason says anything crazy to you later, please don't agree. We can't afford any more trouble."

Bruce didn't understand what she meant, but he nodded and, holding the bottle of hot water, walked toward the truck's driver's cabin.

The driver's cabin had a roof and better insulation, making it warmer. Bruce spread a blanket between two seats and had Jason lie down. Once inside, he handed Jason the water bottle and said, "The children are all settled. You can rest, and things will be better tomorrow."

Jason frowned and shook his head. "No, things are far from simple. Can you repair this car?"

"Yes, but what do you need it for tonight?" Bruce asked.

Jason swallowed hard, struggling to speak. "I need it tonight. While the rain is light, you should hurry and fix it. We'll definitely need it tonight."

"Why do we need it tonight?" Bruce asked with curiosity. "What do you plan to do?"

Jason took a deep breath and said with difficulty, "To rescue people nearby, to save the people helped by other children. Tonight's storm is bound to be terrifying. The basements won't be safe, and they'll be forced out into the rain. But they can't die..."

Bruce's hands paused on the steering wheel as he looked at Jason, feeling profoundly surprised. He knew that in the poverty-stricken slums of Gotham, it was rare to find children with such selflessness.

Just as he was pondering this, Jason seemed to read his thoughts and said, "No, don't be foolish. I'm not kind-hearted. In Gotham's gangs, any friendly gesture is made for self-interest."

Struggling to sit up, Jason continued, "Surviving this rain isn't difficult, but we must consider what comes after. The drainage system won't recover quickly, and it's very likely to turn into a water disaster, just like the snowstorm. Transportation will be disrupted, and many people will rely on the children to deliver supplies."

"However, the snow disaster had a slow onset. Most of the children anticipated the dropping temperatures and prepared firewood to stay warm inside their homes. As long as they didn't spend too much time outside at night, they generally wouldn't freeze to death.

But this storm came too suddenly, catching most people off guard. They hadn't prepared, and they wouldn't reinforce their homes. The other children's helpers weren't as fortunate as us to have acquired a truck.

With the heavy rain in the middle of the night, basement leaks became unbearable, and they would be forced onto the streets, exposed to the rain. While not everyone would catch a cold, many would undoubtedly fall ill.

Once they got sick, they would lose their ability to work. The demand for goods was relentless, but the number of people capable of delivering them was limited. This would have severe consequences.

People's need for goods was non-negotiable, and with fewer able-bodied children, they would look for alternatives rather than relying on our group of children. In doing so, the new lifeline we had painstakingly established would crumble.

They've spent a long time cultivating these habits. Once they can't rely on us, they'll build a new system to replace us.

They would employ us not out of charity but because we are convenient and don't demand high prices like adults do. As long as we can secure the necessary supplies to survive, they'll keep us around. But if we become ineffective, they'll discard us. They have the opportunity to find another way out, but we don't.

So, no matter how many conflicts I've had with the other children's helpers in the past, this time, I must save them. Otherwise, even though we have a temporary sense of security now, there won't be a future."

Bruce was taken aback. He stared at Jason with wide eyes, genuinely puzzled about how an eleven-year-old child could have such a clear understanding of the supply and demand dynamics and industry in the entire city.

Why did he possess such foresight?

"Bruce, I promised to help you, but I'm sorry; you need to help me first. Please repair the truck quickly and let them know it's my decision," Jason said urgently. "It's getting late, and we must rescue all the children on this street to ensure that the industry chain remains intact after the water disaster."

Bruce extended his hand and gently touched Jason's forehead. He paused for a moment before saying, "Jason, you need to consider that even if I can fix the car, driving in this weather and terrain will be extremely rough. Your wounds might reopen..."

"And even though this is a heavy truck, it doesn't have enough space to accommodate all the children in Gotham."

"I know all that," Jason immediately replied. "If we can save one street, we save one street. If we can save one entire neighborhood, we save one entire neighborhood. As long as a portion of the industry chain remains intact, we have a chance to prove to other areas that we are the most reliable."

Bruce's finger trembled slightly. He felt a strange emotion welling up inside him. He didn't know if it was what people called heartache, but he held onto that feeling for a long time, even as he put it into words.

Words born from intense emotions always carried a unique power, and aside from recording them in the travelogue, he felt the need to express his sentiments to the closest person.

"Don't you find this incredible, Selena? I don't understand why he can think so far ahead and make such a decisive and miraculous decision. He's truly a genius."

On the rooftop of Wayne Tower, Batman and Catwoman stood together, watching the setting sun on the horizon. Selena smiled and said, "Do you think he's a genius? Then you'll soon realize that Gotham is filled with geniuses."

"Why do you say that?" Batman asked.

"You were born with limitless resources, an abundance of wealth at your disposal. So, of course, you wouldn't understand how much potential can be unleashed when people are pushed to their limits," Catwoman shrugged. "When you've been pushed to your limits several times, things you couldn't do before suddenly become possible."

"You might think we're all selfish bad guys, but I have to tell you, Batman, that in Gotham, there's an unimaginable unity, strength, and spirit of sacrifice among people just to survive. We're each other's enemies and saviors. We see each other as foes and family."

"You must understand, Batman, that in extremely harsh conditions, nothing is more reliable than a collective effort. And a Gang, in fact, represents order, and it's the embodiment of collective consciousness."

Catwoman turned her head to look at Bruce and said, "What? Are you shocked? Gangs don't represent chaos. Quite the contrary, they represent order—order forged through collective will."

"You might think that Gangs follow so many rules, seeking trouble for no reason, believing that we should descend into chaos without any restraint."

"But, in reality, it's quite the opposite of what you think. Gotham's Gangs are the most orderly and disciplined in the world. It's not because we're the kindest or the most visionary..."

"It's because the conditions here are the harshest, and we must be the most united to combat the deepest darkness."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 815: Red Hood (Nine)