The rule of Falcone, seen from today’s perspective, is a dictatorship filled with black violence.
No matter what business you run in Gotham, you must pay protection fees to the families led by Falcone, otherwise, you won’t survive a day in this city.
Of course, it’s called order, and those protection fees could be renad as managent fees or sothing, after all, Gotham has beco a city of cri families.
But this also brings a problem, the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer, as those at the bottom of society are exploited the most.
It’s like in the ocean, big fish eat small fish, small fish eat shrimp, and shrimp eat mud.
At that ti, more than 90% of the people in Gotham weren’t even considered mud; they could only struggle for survival in the most ordinary jobs, barely maintaining a living after paying monthly protection fees, continuing to make money for the big families the next month.
Everyone was hurried and numb, living the sa day over and over, doing everything they were ordered to under strict supervision, no matter what it was.
Anyone who dared to defy would face beatings or worse punishnts, like their house being set on fire, being gunned down on the street, or having the whole family tied to cent blocks and sunk into the sea. Everyone was enveloped by this black terror.
You couldn’t own anything they fancied; they would take everything.
Your handso husband, taken.
Your sturdy bicycle, taken.
Your soft couch, taken.
Though these acts weren’t carried out by the Falcone Clan, those who did were lowly scum, but their small powers were attached to greater ones, until they all converged at the Ten Clans.
In other places, if you asked kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, the answers would be diverse, wanting to be scientists, priests, or firefighters.
But in those days in Gotham, there was only one answer—to be the boss.
Because the only way for kids to succeed was to join the darkness, follow a good boss, becoming the kind of person they hated as children, climbing the ladder through various dark deeds.
At that ti, more than half of Gotham’s officials accepted political donations from the Ten Clans, and the remaining half lived under threats and intimidation, it was a hopeless city.
And then, retired Jas Gordon returned to the city and beca a detective. His first case was the murder of Briss Vane’s parents, gunned down in an alley.
He comforted the young Briss, promising her to uncover the truth and seek justice for her parents.
But all clues pointed to the Ten Clans. During the investigation, he encountered nurous incidents that showed him the terrifying undercurrents in the darkness.
Strictly speaking, as a homicide detective, Gordon was doing quite well at the ti.
As a police officer, he didn’t need to pay protection fees, and thugs wouldn’t deliberately cause trouble for them.
After all, to the Ten Clans, Gotham was their city, and the police in the city also maintained order for their families; why would family mbers pay protection fees?
Though born in Gotham, Gordon had seen the outside world, its dazzling colors unlike the always dreary Gotham. He couldn’t accept his city being such a place.
He intended to bring all the villains to justice, to let Gotham see light again.
Even though half of his al money had the Falcone na on it, always filled with delicious food.
But he didn’t do it for himself, he did it for the many poor people.
Thus, he endured much hardship, being demoted, threatened, frad, and assassinated.
As his investigation deepened, the enemy’s thods beca more intense. Many tis, he narrowly escaped death, until more than ten years ago, Batwoman appeared, and together they struggled for three years, and finally, he won....
The Ten Clans collapsed, leaving only the Kobert family, now the Penguin Lady; what she possessed was less than one percent of what used to be.
He personally sent Falcone, the once Gotham Emperor, to Black Gate Prison.
Though he was soon out, he went to Hong Kong, and Gordon never saw him again.
After that, most of Gordon’s energy went into dealing with the endless masked figures, perhaps only during nights of rest and drinking would he recall those thrilling younger years.
Now, the people from his mories appeared.
"Gordon, the good lad back in the day, you’re old now too."
Falcone spoke with emotion, looking at Gordon without any hatred, just like an ordinary old man looking at his nieces and nephews.
He was still so dignified, impeccably dressed, urbane. Everything in the room seed to have ti-traveled back to the glorious era of the Romans, back to when Gordon first t him.
At the outset of the investigation, he once sought Falcone for clues, and Falcone had graciously received him, the emperor of the city and a small policeman, just separated by this desk, having a dialogue.
Just like today.
Gordon wouldn’t be enchanted by him, maybe thirty years ago he would, but not today, he still rembered clearly how his n ’invited’ him here before.
The Romans are back, and fully ard!
"You’re aging faster than I am, Falcone."
Even when trapped, Gordon did not retreat, imdiately retorting.
Falcone just smiled, leisurely stroking his cat; the cat, ward by the fireplace, was drowsy, yawning comfortably in his arms.
"Yes, we are both old; this world is destined for the young, so I plan to return to these parts to see before I die."
"There’s nothing worth seeing in Gotham, you should leave." Gordon sat opposite him, calmly making eye contact.
Falcone paused for a mont, slled the rose on his chest, then looked at Gordon, puzzled: "Yes, there’s nothing to see....I left you a glorious city, yet you’ve let it beco like this?"
"At least people have gained freedom." Gordon closed his eyes, leaned back on the sofa.
"What is freedom? Now they don’t even dare go out at night." Falcone shook his head, laughing like he’d heard a joke. Seeing Gordon’s eyes closed, he added, "You deceived with Batwoman, I don’t bla you, because I know you wanted a better city."
"Nor do I bla her because soone in the family killed Briss’s parents behind my back, though it was the Owl’s infiltration, it’s still the retribution I deserve."
"....." Gordon remained silent.
"Rember? I asked you what you wanted? You told , you wanted a city where people could live and work in peace, where children could grow up healthy. So, I let go, I gave it to you to accomplish what I couldn’t, I let you imprison , I let you be Gotham’s hope, then I left for distant lands, but this is the answer you give ?"
Falcone calmly placed the cat on the carpet, watching it curl up and sleep, and took a bottle of wine from his desk, pouring it into two glasses, the golden liquid in the firelight reflecting brilliantly.
"Gotham...only needs more ti, it will get better..." Gordon said words he himself found hard to believe.
"That’s why I have faith in you, Gordon; you always have hope, you never give up." Falcone stood up with a smile, wobbly handing a glass of wine to Gordon, clinking glasses lightly: "Compared to the little la one from the Kobert family, you are my ideal inheritor."
Reviews
All reviews (0)