Chapter 816: Red Hood (Part Ten) (Patreon)

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On a rainy night, a truck sped by, creating a waterfall-like splash of water as it passed. The sound of tires rolling over puddles resonated louder than thunder in the sky.

All the children were clutching onto whatever they could, their faces filled with fear, crowded together like sardines on a conveyor belt.

Jason also gripped the armrest tightly with one hand. He said, "You're out of your mind, Bruce! You've not only broken the rules but also might have injured a gang member. They'll want our lives!"

"You haven't learned anything at all!" Jason raised his voice. "You can easily walk away from here, but these people can't, and neither can I..."

"As long as you take off your hood, no one will dare to harm you. Is that what you think? Even if you reveal your identity, they will not let us go peacefully..."

Jason closed his eyes and said with a trembling voice, "But in Gotham, we can't rely on mercy to survive. You show mercy, want to save these children, but in the end, it won't save anyone..."

Bruce drove in silence. Jason glanced at his face, but all he saw was the fleeting moment when the light from a streetlamp slid over his hood, like Gotham's sunset.

Bruce crossed the street, driving the truck further, and as Jason had predicted, this sudden downpour had forced many children out of their stronghold, huddling shivering on the streets.

The truck stopped again, and more children were pulled on board. They looked at the terrified expressions of the others inside, but soon, they too succumbed to panic as the truck plowed through the gang's checkpoint on the street.

The thunder rumbled incessantly, and the truck, like a thunderbolt, raced through the streets and alleys of Gotham, picking up the fallen stars from the sky and sealing them in cans, heading towards an unknown destination.

The storm grew fiercer, and the sound of high heels clicking on the corridor floor blended into the rain, inconspicuous amidst the downpour.

Schiller pushed open the door to a hospital room, and Brand, following behind him, frowned because the situation inside the room was far from good.

Seven or eight children huddled in the corner, the hospital bed was covered in a mess of vomit, and there were traces of blood on the floor. Everyone stared at the newcomers with wide eyes, their eye contact numb, devoid of any signs of life.

"Is this what Wayne paid us a fortune to do?" Brand stood at the doorway, incredulous. "How did he turn these children into this? What has he been up to?"

"It's not him, but the entire Gotham," Schiller said, standing in the center of the room as if he hadn't seen these children or smelled the awful stench.

Brand stood silently at the door for a long time before saying, "This city is hell, a living hell."

"I thought you already knew that. Haven't you been here for a while?" Schiller stayed under the room's pendant light, writing in the medical records. Brand walked in slowly and said, "Correct, but I've never delved into the city like this. I don't have your capabilities; I can only hide in the hospital."

"It's not that you don't have the capability, Brand, you just don't want to. Today, we'll give them an initial examination and come up with a treatment plan. Wayne didn't pay us for nothing."

"Why aren't we consulting with other doctors then? Wasn't the conference scheduled for three days from now?"

"Do you really think we can rely on them? They don't even understand this place as well as you do," Schiller said, turning his head to look out the window. "The storm is getting worse, isn't it?"

Brand sighed and walked to a spot about two meters away from the group of children.

He realized that every move he made was being observed by those eyes. Brand felt like he was being stalked by wild beasts, but he knew it was just an illusion because before him were malnourished children.

"Their stress reactions are severe; they must have been subjected to more than one traumatic event. Can they still communicate their needs?" Brand crouched down, aligning his gaze with the children's.

"I brought you along hoping you'd examine their brain activity from a pathological perspective. As for behavioral and cognitive matters, leave that to me," Schiller said.

Brand nodded and said, "Okay, I'll call the nurses to prepare medication. Let's hope we won't need too many tranquilizers; it would affect their health."

After a while, two nurses pushed a trolley over, and all the children started screaming.

The head nurse turned to Brand and said, "That's right, in these past few days, we've tried medication as a treatment, but their resistance has been too intense. We didn't want to be too forceful, especially considering Mr. Wayne's instructions..."

But Brand had much more experience than an ordinary head nurse. He said, "Ignore them, don't look into their eyes, don't try to communicate with them. Pretend you haven't seen anything, haven't heard anything."

"Treat them like commodities, not like people," Brand told the head nurse. "Don't think it lacks humanity; when patients exhibit aggressive behavior, they may have lost their rationality. Excessive attention could increase their mental activity and make them more agitated."

Brand didn't hesitate and reached out to grab a child's arm, placing them on the bed. The child screamed wildly, attempting to bite Brand's wrist with their mouth, but Brand held their arm down, motioning for the nurse to come over and administer a shot.

The other children scattered, but with the door closed, there was no escape. They were all captured and given medication.

The head nurse wore a pained expression on her face until it was all over. She said, "My daughter is around their age, and this is..."

"No need to blame yourself, ma'am. We controlled the force and carefully monitored the medication dosage. This will help calm them down for examination. It's a necessary step in their recovery," Brand reassured her.

"Of course, I understand." The head nurse quickly regained her composure and said, "I'll inform the others, clean up this place, and then bring in the equipment. After the examination, we'll have the orderlies come in to clean them up..."

After several nurses left, Schiller looked at Brand and said, "Sometimes, I'm amazed by your professionalism and decisiveness."

Brand didn't take the compliment lightly; he shook his head and said, "Can you explain what's going on here?"

"These are children Wayne brought back from the slums. Since you haven't been there, you wouldn't know. In the slums, there's a specialized group of beggars who take in infants with weaker bodies or disabilities, pretending to be their 'parents' and training them to beg."

"Some time ago, the children of Gotham's various factions were unified, and these children were rescued as well. Wayne, feeling charitable, wanted to treat them, so he sent them to the hospital."

Brand shook his head, saying, "Even though my expertise is in pathology, I know this isn't a good choice. Setting aside the potential environmental shocks, regardless of how kind-hearted he may be, he should listen to the needs of those he's helping rather than assuming what's best for them."

"At that time, Wayne wasn't someone who was good at listening," Schiller said, looking at Brand. "But the reason they're reacting so strongly is that they lived by Gotham's laws before."

"Gotham's laws? In this cursed city, there are laws?" Brand took a deep breath.

"Of course, in any society, there are rules and laws, even if Gotham's laws aren't written down, making it seem like there are none," Schiller explained, shaking his head.

"Among them, the rules of the Gotham gangs dictate that you can only do what's assigned to your position. This way, you'll have the protection of the rules. If you step out of line, what you gain may not be worth the consequences."

Brand pondered for a moment, realizing it was quite similar to the legal system he was familiar with.

In a normal society, if people don't follow societal rules and do things beyond their role, they may gain some benefits, but the benefits they receive are often far less than the freedom taken away if they break the law.

At the bottom of Gotham, these rules were enforced rigorously. These children had to be weak enough to stay in their territory, posing no threat to anyone, ensuring their survival in the cracks.

If they acquired resources that didn't belong to them, they had to surrender them. Violating these rules could lead to death.

Schiller sighed again, looking at the children lying on the bed, saying, "This is especially true for these beggar children. They were taught from a young age that everything they obtained had to be given up, or they could be beaten to death."

"They've been conditioned to believe that none of their labor belongs to them. If they take a little more, their lives could be in danger. But now, they've received too much."

"Bruce Wayne didn't break these rules, didn't dismantle this system, or establish a new order. He simply took them out of that environment and gave them a lot of things."

"In that kind of environment, people who grow up there would see all these things as a threat to their lives, and not a single one of them can escape the fear of death."

"Their crying, screaming, and resistance aren't because they feel they have too little but because they are resisting having too much."

"This won't save Gotham," Brand said. "If this order isn't completely overturned, anyone who emerges from such an environment will go insane from this fear."

"Bruce's intentions may have been good, thinking that saving one is better than nothing," Schiller concluded. "But his actions are like pulling a sick fish out of a pond."

"The fish isn't doing well, maybe even on the brink of death. He feels compassion and wants to heal it. But he must consider that without water, the fish will only die faster."

"And when the whole pond is filled with sick fish, the first thing he should think about is changing the water."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 817: Red Hood (Part Eleven)