Chapter 814: Red Hood (Eight)_1
"I found the truck and announced to them, confirming that it could indeed be used as a refuge to get through the night. They cheered, exchanging high fives. However what made me a little puzzled is that Jason didn't seem that elated. He appeared to be worried..."
The script in cursive appeared on the neat white paper. Weak afternoon sunlight streamed in through the curtains. As it swept over the words, the scenes depicted in the text seemed to brighten up.
The papers were slowly put down and Shiller who was behind pushed his glasses up, picking up his coffee with his other hand, taking a sip.
Victor, beside him, leaned over and asked: "What are you reading? A dissertation?"
"No, more like a travelogue, written by Bruce. Want to take a look?" Shiller handed the stack of papers to Victor. After reviewing the first page, Victor appeared surprised, "Is this really written by Bruce? The actions of the 'I' character here don't quite seem like Bruce'..."
"I've said it before, he's much better. If he hadn't come to his senses recently, and opened up a lot, you would be looking at a nonsensical philosophical critique, rather than this readable travelogue."
Victor nodded, flipping to the next page, and commented, "His writing style isn't bad, concise and unpretentious, but its quite elegant. He's really good at crafting the setting and atmosphere..."
Shiller picked his empty coffee mug, heading over to the coffee machine. He looked back and said, "Keep reading, there are more surprises to come."
The aromatic coffee trickled into the cup, the liquid steadily rising, much like the streets of Gotham after sunset, once again being assaulted by the heavy rain.
"Hurry up! Get inside! We're just waiting for you!" The older sister called out to a child. She asked, "Why are you back so late? Did you deliver to the wrong place?"
The child quickly climbed up to the truck's body and replied, "Don't get me started, I had the worst luck today. The person who ordered the goods cancelled at the last minute. I had to find a way to sell off the stuff."
"Get inside, we heated up some water. You can take a bottle to warm your hands." She handed him a deformed plastic water bottle heated up by the hot water. The child managed a rueful smile, "Thank you, but I'm not cold. Give it to the little ones instead."
In the trunk of the truck, over twenty children were huddled together. Twelve on the left, eleven on the right. Each one was snugly wrapped in a blanket while a few older children tried to block the gaps around the truck with rags and old blankets.
After a moment, Bruce climbed onboard with a wrench in his hand. "I took a look at the truck while the rain temporarily died down. The engine isn't broken, the issue might be elsewhere. If we can fix it today, we can drive to higher ground," he announced.
The older sister waved him over saying, "That's great news. Take this bottle of hot water up front to Jason. I'm worried that he's cold."
Just as Bruce took the bottle, the older sister looked around, lowering her voice, "Don't agree if Jason talks crazy to you later. We can't handle any more trouble."
Although Bruce wasn't sure what she was referring to, he nodded, carrying the hot water to the truck cab.
The cab had a roof, and was better sealed, hence it was warmer. Bruce had laid a blanket between the seats so that Jason could lay down there. After he got in, he tucked the water bottle under Jason's blanket, reassuring him, "The kids are all settled. You can get some sleep. Morning will come."
Jason frowned and shook his head, "No, it's not that simple. Can the truck be fixed?"
"Yes, but what do you want to use it for? To transport goods? But that can be done tomorrow." Bruce sat down in the driver seat.
"No, I need it tonight." Jason looked at Bruce, "Take advantage of the rain dying down right now and fix it. We'll definitely need it tonight."
"Why would we need it tonight?" Bruce looked at him puzzled, "What do you want to use it for?"
Jason swallowed, struggling to speak, "To save people nearby. The members of the other children's gangs. Uh... the storm tonight is bound to be terrible, and the basements won't be ideal shelters. They would have to leave, get drenched in the rain... they can't die out there...."
Bruce's hand on the steering wheel froze. He looked at Jason, shocked, because in the slums, it was rare for a child to display such kindness.
Just as he was coming to this realization, Jason seemed to read his thoughts, "No, don't be foolish. I'm not kind. In Gotham's gangs, any act of kindness is for personal gain."
He propped himself up with some difficulty, saying, "Surviving this storm isn't the difficult part. But we must think about what happens after the storm."
"The drainage systems won't recover so quickly. It's very likely that it will turn into a flood just like the snowstorm. At that time, travel will be difficult, and many people will rely on the children to deliver goods for them."
"However, there's usually a gradual process leading up to a snowstorm. Most children know that the temperature is about to drop and have firewood ready. If they stay indoors and avoid staying outside for too long at night, they generally won't freeze to death."
"But this storm came too abruptly, most were unprepared, and they don't know how to repair their shelters. The other children's gangs weren't as lucky as us to procure a truck."
"Caught in the middle of the night with heavy rain, their basements were severely flooded, forcing them onto the streets. And then, caught in the rain, not everyone will catch a cold, but many will fall ill."
"Once they fall ill, they lose the ability to work. The demand for children to deliver goods increases, but the number of children able to deliver decreases, causing serious consequences."
"People need to buy things, that's a basic need. But if the number of working children suddenly drops and can't meet the demand, people will find another way, rather than relying on the children…" Jason swallowed and continued, "Then, the new path we've just found will collapse."
"They've spent considerable time cultivating this form of reliance. Without the children, they'll establish a new system that replaces ours…"
Jason took a deep breath and said, "They employ these children not out of charity, but simply because we're convenient and don't demand high compensation like adults, we just need enough to survive."
"But if we fail to meet their needs, we will be abandoned. They have alternatives, but we don't."
"So no matter how many conflicts I've had with other children's gangs in the past, this time, I must save them." Jason coughed a few times and said, "Otherwise, even though we might be able to scrape by for now, there won't be a future."
Bruce was taken aback. He couldn't understand how an eleven-year-old child could so clearly grasp the interdependence of the city's population and its economic structure.
How could he be so far-sighted?
"Bruce. I promised to help you, but I'm sorry, right now you'll have to help me first, repair the truck quickly, then convey my intentions to them…" Jason urgently said, "It might already be too late, we must save all the children on this main street to ensure our industry doesn't collapse after a flood."
Bruce extended a hand and gingerly brushed Jason's forehead. He paused, then said, "Jason, you must think this through. Even if I can repair the truck, considering the weather and the terrain, the ride will be extremely bumpy. Your wounds might tear open…"
"Moreover, even if this is a heavy truck, there's not enough space for all the children in Gotham."
"I know that." Jason immediately responded, "If we can save one street, we'll save one street. If we can save an entire neighborhood, we'll save an entire neighborhood. If we can ensure a portion of our industries remain intact, then we can prove to other areas that we are the most reliable."
Bruce's fingers twitched, and for the first time, he felt a strange emotion well up inside him. He didn't know if this was the heartache people commonly referred to, but he dwelled on the feeling for a long time, and even as he wrote it down, he still found it unforgettable.
The words borne of strong emotions have a distinctive power of influence, yet beyond recording them in his journal, he decided to share these emotions with his closest companion.
"Don't you find it incredible? Selina, I don't understand how he could think so far ahead and make such a daring and incredibly decision. He's a real genius."
On the rooftop of Wayne Building, Batman and Catwoman stood together, watching the sunset. Selina smiled and said, "Do you think he's a genius? Then you will soon discover, Gotham is full of geniuses."
"Why do you say that?" Batman asked.
"You were born with endless resources and wealth at your disposal, so of course, you wouldn't understand the potential a person unleashes when backed into a corner," Catwoman shrugged as she spoke, "If someone is repeatedly driven to desperation, they learn to do things they couldn't before, might even do the unthinkable."
"You assumed that we're all self-serving villains, but I have to tell you, Gothamites possess unity, resilience, and a spirit of sacrifice beyond your imagination in order to survive. We are each other's enemies and saviors—we see each other as adversaries, and as family."
"You must understand, Batman, in extremely harsh environments, nothing is more reliable than the collective. And the Mob, in essence, is a manifestation of collective will."
"Surprised?" Catwoman turned to look at Bruce. "The Mob doesn't represent chaos. On the contrary, it represents order—a sense of order brought about by collective consciousness."
"You might think the Mob follows many rules because they enjoy creating problems and they should be a disorderly and reckless group."
"But, in reality, the opposite is true. The Gotham Gang is the most ordered and disciplined among gangs in the world, not because we're the most virtuous or the most far-sighted…"
"It is simply because the conditions here are the harshest, and we need to be the most unified to confront the deepest darkness."