73 Chapter-73 | Gotham, 1987... (1)

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....

The chilly morning breeze rustled the branches outside the window, and the orange morning light shone through the thick layers of curtains, illuminating the dim room.

A knock came on the bedroom door, and Schiller rolled over, groggily. The butler outside said, "Sir, a Mr. Gordon called for you ten minutes ago. I told him you would call him back after you woke up."

Schiller's voice was hoarse as he said, "I see, thank you."

He sat up in bed, slowly coming out of his sleepy state, and then walked to the window. He parted the curtains with one hand, and saw a milkman on a bicycle ringing his bell at the front gate. Soon, someone went out to take the milk canister from his hands.

This was his new home in Gotham's West End, and it was a beautiful estate. Although the professors' quarters at Gotham University were nice, he knew it was time for him to buy his own home.

This is the Old Town district of Gotham, different from the wealthy southern neighborhoods. This area was originally established by a group of British nobles when they first arrived in America as European immigrants. As a result, most of the buildings here are traditional English estates, however, as the city planning shifted and the south became more desirable location, the wealthy neighborhoods moved from the west to the south.

The remaining old estates here mostly carry a classic English style, but because the descendants of those nobles rarely stayed in the area, many of these estates are now uninhabited. Schiller was able to purchase one of the best-maintained and most stylishly decorated of these estates at a very reasonable price.

He did not buy a house in the southern wealthy neighborhood not because he could not afford it, but because of a very practical reason - the estates located in the west are closer to his workplace at Gotham University.

To work in the southern wealthy neighborhoods, he would have to drive a long distance, through most of Gotham City, and worst of all, through the busiest central district during rush hour.

Therefore, even the most luxurious villas in the southern wealthy neighborhoods were not within Schiller's options. He is not Bruce Wayne, who can simply take a helicopter when there's traffic. He did not want to spend most of his day on the road.

Choosing an old-style estate in the west also has the benefit of fewer people and a more peaceful atmosphere. It is also not as busy in the morning with cars coming and going. Schiller can sleep well on his days off.

Most importantly, it is far from Wayne Manor, and far from the mountain where Bruce Wayne plans to build the Batcave. In case Batman gets targeted by the Joker or other enemies in the future, this location will not be affected.

After a while, the butler walked in, opened the curtains and tied them up, then said, "Breakfast is ready, sir."

Schiller nodded, took the glasses case from him, put on his glasses, looked at his watch, and asked "What time did Gordon call?"

"About 25 minutes ago, sir."

Schiller looked back at the window one more time, and then went downstairs for breakfast.

Following the wooden staircase down, through a slightly dim corridor, the dining room was located in the westernmost part of the estate. He walked into a semi-circular dining room with tall arched windows on either side of which hung dark green silk curtains. The mahogany dining table was set with silverware that sparkled mysteriously in the morning's soft light.

The morning light streaming through the arched windows fell on the dining table and created a play of light and shadow with the window's grid and round tableware. Schiller picked up the ironed newspaper from the right side.

The printed newspaper's ink was smudged, and the top line read: "January 25, 1987, cloudy, rain in the afternoon, Gotham Daily."

Schiller ate breakfast and searched for the information he needed in the newspaper. The font of newspapers in this era was often small and the ink easily smudged, so he had to use a magnifying glass.

After a while, the butler walked in and said, "Mr. Gordon is here."

Schiller put down the magnifying glass in his hand and looked up as Gordon, dressed in a brown trench coat and wearing a fedora, walked into the dining room. He still had a chill on him as he entered, and upon seeing Schiller reading the newspaper, Gordon said, "Did you see the news today? The Godfather is furious, he's not allowing any ships from the city to dock at the Eastern docks."

"I was just reading about that," Schiller pushed his glasses up and said, "I was up late writing a paper last night and missed your call this morning."

Gordon took off his trench coat as he said, "It wasn't anything important, you know how it is, my work has been slow lately, I just wanted to call and congratulate you on your move. Oh, and by the way, my gift is still in the car..."

"No rush, have you had breakfast yet? Why don't you sit down and eat with me?"

Gordon handed his coat to the butler as he said, "I went to the bureau earlier, I already ate, and the information you asked me to find, I brought it for you."

He then put a black briefcase on the table and began to search through it, pulling out a file and handing it to Schiller.

Schiller said, "Thank you for your hard work, even if you've already eaten, have a cup of hot milk."

Gordon did not refuse and sat down at the table, saying, "At first, when you said you were taking over Baronet's estate, I was a bit puzzled. After all, not many people like these old-fashioned estates now."

"Nowadays, the wealthy people in Gotham prefer that kind of vertical villa, with a large garage to park their luxury cars."

Gordon looked around and saw that the decoration here was the most typical English style, with silk curtains, knitted carpets, wooden furniture, and a stone fireplace. The flames inside crackled and even if you weren't close, you could feel the warmth.

The dining room of the old estate wasn't very big, and the corridor was relatively narrow. Even the extremely retro metal wall sconces and candle holders could be seen on the walls. The atmosphere of the entire building seemed to have returned to the Victorian era.

Gordon withdrew his gaze and said, "But now, it looks like this place suits you perfectly."

"It's not that I have a special affection for English estates, it's just that if I bought a house in the south, it would be too far from where I work. Gotham's terrible traffic conditions might make me miss all my morning classes."

Gordon picked up his cup and took a sip of milk, "Who doesn't? Every time I go to work at the police station, I get stuck in that damn roundabout with all those damn drivers. Do you know, I got first place in driving class at the police academy!"

"This damn place, everyone's a criminal, they never think that in a roundabout with hundreds of cars moving forward at the same time, flooring the gas might make them suffocate from the airbag!" Gordon said, quite angry.

"You must have been stuck in traffic for a while on your way here," Schiller said, laughing.

"On my way here, I saw at least ten genius race car drivers who could win the F1 championship," Gordon said, somewhat dejected.

"Speaking of which, it's also partly our new chief's fault. We don't have enough police officers, so we can't transfer all the traffic police away? Recently, my team has also brought in several new people, they don't understand anything, they just want to rush up with their guns."

Gordon shook his head and said, "It's better to go back and command their traffic!"

"The days of the police are getting better, and it's also related to this chief. You'll just have to bear with it."

Gordon put down his cup and rubbed his hands, excitedly saying, "But I'll soon be able to buy an apartment next to the police station."

"You've saved enough money?"

"Almost, can you imagine? I made $80,000 last week. Even if next week's income isn't as high, as long as I save a little more, I'll be able to buy an apartment in full."

"How did you make so much? There shouldn't have been that many cases last week, at most only $50,000?" Schiller turned his head and asked him while eating.

[ShaneFreak: Our Gordon got corrupted... LMAO!]

Gordon raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh, I forgot, you're not a local, in Gotham, everyone has to pay protection fees, the police are no exception. I am the head of the field team now, and all the police under me have to give me 15% of their income."

"So you just took it? Like a mob boss?" Schiller joked.

"You don't understand, if you don't take it, they will be afraid, because in Gotham, if you take their money, it means you are willing to continue working with them, if you don't take it, they will worry that this business will be gone tomorrow."

"I heard you are getting married to your fiancé, is she in Gotham now? When are you planning to have the wedding?"

Gordon coughed and said, "She is currently dealing with work transfer procedures, the company handover is very complicated in Metropolis, at least a week, but it's okay, I have some time to buy the apartment I like and give her a surprise."

Schiller shook the newspaper in his hand, and said as he read, "Have you decided what kind of wedding gift you want? I am currently very rich."

"Really? Richer than Wayne?"

Schiller rolled his eyes and said, "If I were richer than him, you wouldn't see me here."

"Actually, if I hadn't made so much money, I wouldn't have thought of getting engaged so soon, I might be vacationing in Hawaii right now."

"I thought you were always working."

"Come on, I would have gone crazy, I have to have a good body and a good mood to survive in this damn city for a long time."

Schiller took a cigar from the box on the table, cut it and handed it to Gordon. Gordon took it and Schiller took a match from the servant, lit it and lit Gordon's cigar.

Then he lit one for himself and exhaled smoke, he said, "The Godfather has been in a bad mood lately, some bold and reckless people want to make trouble on his territory."

Gordon stretched out his hand holding the cigar, changed his posture and leaned on the armrest of the chair, he sighed comfortably and said, "Why are you asking me for information on Gotham's floating population? Is there a problem in Metropolis? I heard that the people who provoke the Godfather are from Metropolis."

"If I tell you that this is trouble that came with me, would you be surprised?"

"Of course not." Gordon denied almost without thinking.

"When I first saw you, I had a feeling that you must be a troublemaker."

"Why?"

"You can be seen as a detective's intuition."

"Interesting, can you explain in detail?"

"I've seen a lot of criminals, they are different..." Gordon stood up, resting his wrist on the table, he said, "...completely different, those clumsy thieves and true hardcore criminals are different."

"I've never heard of any serial killer offender yelling and being rude to the judge, they have a different temperament than ordinary people..."

"When you're facing Batman, I always feel like you two are like looking in a mirror."

"You think I'm similar to him? Are you serious?"

"Some things are completely different, but some are astonishingly consistent."

Schiller looked at Gordon and said, "If you maintain this kind of sensitivity, you will become Gotham's savior."

Gordon knocked the ash off his cigarette on the silver plate, then said, "The Godfather is in trouble this time, the group of people who infiltrated seem to have some skills, they killed two of Falcone's family's bartenders, if the Godfather doesn't catch them in a short time, he will lose face in Gotham, and that's worse than anything else."

"The gangs probably won't dare to provoke the Godfather in the short term, right?" Schiller put down the newspaper and leaned back on the chair.

"It's hard to say, don't underestimate those people. Don't forget, Maroni is not dead yet, he made a lot of money in the East district's conflict, maybe he's planning to challenge the Godfather."

"He's looking for death." Smoke accompanied the sound of the voice as Schiller extended his hand out, flicking the ashes of his cigar, and the fine dust slowly fell.

"Not necessarily, the Godfather somehow crossed him, having someone kill old bureau chief Viktor, I heard he also wanted to get involved in Arkham Hospital, but was kicked out by the Godfather again, Maroni can't bear this grudge."

"The East is not peaceful, Maroni is eager to subdue those forces that he has incorporated, he needs a victory to establish his authority and completely assimilate the fresh blood he just absorbed."

"He dares to use the Godfather to establish authority, Falcone will make him taste it." Schiller leaned back in his chair, pulling at the collar of his sweater and appearing very relaxed.

Gordon coughed again and through the smoke of the cigarette, squinting at the reflection on the silver plate, he said: "Maroni is a formidable character, but the Godfather is already old."

"You have more faith in him?"

"No, I actually hope the old Godfather wins, as long as Falcone is still around, Gotham will not be in chaos, but once he's gone, it's hard to say."

Soon, Gordon left, after all, he still had work to do, recently it was his peak season, if he worked hard for another month, buying a villa would not be a problem.

After Gordon left, Schiller leaned back in his chair, finished his cigar, and smoke swirled around his fingertips. He hadn't thought so relaxedly in a long time.

In this city where danger is everywhere, if there is no definite safety, he doesn't even have a break to smoke.

Before this, Schiller had never thought of buying a house, nor did he need a home, because he is not from Gotham, he comes from a country with the safest order in the world.

Along with the burning of the cigar, the smoke that was several times stronger than the cigarette spread into various abstract shapes, making people think of countless associations. In that kind of dreamy and sweet smell, Schiller began to recall.

He couldn't remember clearly, after leaving his hometown, the first time he met a shooting incident in Chicago, the first emotion that arose, whether it was shock or excitement.

He could only remember that as the plane was plummeting, memories of his life flooded in alongside the feeling of weightlessness and lack of oxygen. The mysterious and tumultuous events he had been a part of in the past half of his life had become a blur, and as these memories dissipated with his death, countless secrets were buried forever.

If there truly were gods in this world, Schiller thought, then this great being who could give someone another life must truly understand him.

Gotham was a sewer for the world's evil, and good people never got pulled into it.

Schiller looked at the burning tip of his cigar, where the flames were slowly dying out and the smoke was thinning, the illusion it created slowly dissipating.

He knew that when he regained consciousness and learned that he was in Gotham City from the memories of his host, the excitement that filled his mind at first would ultimately destroy his hopes for a peaceful life.

Or, to put it another way, his enjoyment of the dull, ordinary daily life was nothing but self-deception by a master of self-hypnosis, until he saw the appearance of the Batman.

As the smoke dispersed, Schiller remembered the feeling of the first time he used his weak mind-reading ability to touch the inner mind of Batman.

Just like Gordon said, he felt like he was looking in a mirror. So, he gave Batman the answer he most wanted to hear and eagerly put an end to the dull, despairing life that he had been living.

And now, he was finally a citizen of Gotham City, on his second life's first birthday, in the winter of 1987 in Gotham.

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