Black Pyramid

Bruce had never imagined that when he returned to Schiller and gave him an affirmative answer, he would hear such a startling plan from him.

His professor, who called himself an ordinary person and a good man, told him personally, "It isn’t Gotham that’s wrong. It’s this world."

And for that, Schiller produced a plan—a plan that even made Bruce want to back away, though the professor claimed it had merely been a flash of inspiration one morning.

In this plan, Schiller laid out in detail how he intended to bring a new order to Gotham. If Bruce had to summarize it, he could only say that the name Schiller Rodriguez might go down in history—but not for any good reputation. His professor would very likely be hailed as the Father of Modern Crime.

In this plan, Schiller described Gotham as an "excellent" city blessed with the right time, place, and people. Of course, this "excellent" applied to the criminal economy.

The first step of the plan was to link the three major ports of the American East Coast: Gotham Port, Chicago Port, and Miami Port. By sheer coincidence, all three cities specialized in gangs.

When gangsters met gangsters, tears filled their eyes. And even more conveniently, Gotham had an innate advantage in this regard. Chicago’s and Miami’s gangs combined still could not beat Gotham’s gangs.

By linking these three cities with Gotham at the helm, they would control more than half of the American East Coast’s port trade.

None of these three cities, taken alone, could absorb the entire country’s criminal industries. But if the three port cities were added together, it would definitely not be as simple as one plus one plus one equaling three.

Criminal industrial chains that a single port city could not complete would be further developed by the other downstream cities. With the three ports supporting each other from afar and adopting an order structure like Gotham’s twelve Mafia families, divided into layer after layer, they could handle more than 70 percent of the United States’ criminal supply chains.

Most cities on the West Coast still belonged to the orderly kind. Seaside City, where Green Lantern Hal lived, was one example; Los Angeles and Seattle were others. Their overall crime rates were not low either, but they were still far better than those on the East Coast.

Look at these East Coast cities. Gotham went without saying—it was the greatest criminal center in the universe. Miami specialized in tornadoes and gangs. Chicago was called a criminal paradise, and the Chicago Typewriter was famous throughout the United States.

The national average crime index was 30 to 40, but the crime indexes of Gotham, Chicago, and Miami combined might exceed 300. It was truly a union of the strong.

What Schiller had not mentioned in the plan he showed Bruce was that, as a transmigrator, he knew that around seven months later, in October 1987, Black Monday would arrive. The country would suffer a devastating stock market crash. Stocks would hit their lower limits, businesses would go bankrupt, huge numbers of unemployed people would take to the streets, and the crime rate would nearly double.

The gangs would receive an influx of fresh blood. Large numbers of unemployed finance workers would enter the underworld. Many insignificant street thug gangs would begin transitioning into professional organizations, while major gangs newly supplied with skilled talent would take a great leap toward corporate and shareholder systems.

Then the Cold War would end, enormous quantities of armaments would be withdrawn, and the consequences of excessive investment during the arms race would gradually emerge. Many people would be laid off. Most had received professional military training but possessed few skills for making a living. After arming their minds, the gangs could further improve their physical strength.

After that, the huge outflow of hot money caused by the 1987 crash would bring about the 1994 Mexican economic crisis. That was right, Mexico’s specialty was also…

It was foreseeable that if this plan proceeded as intended, the next few years would be Gotham’s smoothest years.

Of course, Bruce had no gift of foresight. He only knew that between himself and the person who had devised this plan, one of them had to be abnormal.

When you wanted to bring a new order to a city of crime, what would you do?

Most people might think of suppressing the gangs, or perhaps taking a more violent approach—using absolute violence to eradicate the roots of crime at their source.

But surely no one would think, "Since I can’t get better, then we might as well all rot together."

Yet if this plan truly succeeded, Bruce’s genius mind calculated it with perfect clarity: once Gotham’s gang model was applied to the entire East Coast, Gotham would become the peak of this Black Pyramid, just as the Falcone family now stood at the top of Gotham.

Becoming the pinnacle of the nation’s largest criminal supply chain meant Gotham could very likely leap into becoming the most developed city in the United States. Everyone in the city would passively become the head of the phoenix. Even the very last feather on that head would certainly look more splendid than any other feather.

Of course, Gotham would not change its nature as a city of crime because of this. After all, the top of a Black Pyramid was still black.

But what made Gotham different from other cities was that, whether it was the head of a phoenix or the tail of a chicken, it had already rotted to the core. Gotham had no lower limit left to break through. Since it was going to rot anyway, why not rot in a way that was prosperous and thriving?

Bruce had many opinions about this plan that he wanted to express, but they were all swallowed back down.

Because he had already given Schiller an affirmative answer.

He had originally thought it was merely a question Schiller had asked on a whim, like the countless other questions the professor had asked him before. All he needed to do was think about it for a while, give him an answer, and the matter would pass.

Experience had betrayed him. Once Bruce gave Schiller that answer, the professor instantly pulled out a plan so meticulous, absurd, and potentially effective.

Bruce suddenly felt as though he had boarded a pirate ship.

But he had already promised Schiller. He always had an inexplicable reluctance to lose face in front of Schiller, so he still agreed to participate in the preliminary arrangements.

The first step of those arrangements was to find Gotham a new mayor. The previous mayor had died in a traffic accident, and Gotham had gone some time without a replacement.

Generally speaking, Gotham’s mayor could not simply be appointed, because no one was willing to risk their life by coming here. So Wayne Enterprises usually paid someone to come. Among so many politicians, there were always a few willing to take money over life.

But this time, Gotham had its eye on Chicago’s former mayor. Just like Gotham, Chicago’s previous two mayors had met untimely ends: one died in Car Accidents, while the other committed suicide by shooting himself twice in the back.

The former mayor was still alive because he was the leader of Chicago’s second-largest gang, the Evangelical Gang.

Schiller believed such a résumé made him well suited to be Gotham City’s mayor. At the very least, he had managed Chicago’s traffic rather well. After all, when facing the Chicago Typewriter, most drivers were extremely courteous.

And so, at the beginning of this story, Bruce appeared in Chicago and successfully seduced the younger sister of the Evangelical Gang’s leader.

Of course, that had not been the original plan. Batman would never have come up with a scheme that relied on seducing a woman to approach a target.

But the problem was that Bruce could not use his identity as Batman to accomplish this. Batman was not that famous yet. He had only gained a little renown in Gotham and had no business meddling in Chicago’s affairs. So naturally, he used the identity of Bruce, the richest man in the world.

When playboy Bruce arrived in a city, of course he had to spend a few days eating, drinking, and having fun first. Otherwise, he would look a little too dedicated.

The moment people heard that the world’s richest man had arrived, every ball in town invited him. Bruce attended several balls in two days, which included nearly all of Chicago’s socialites, including Roy Brown’s younger sister, Tina Brown.

She was very beautiful and danced very well. The man was interested, the woman was willing, and the two of them naturally got together quickly. Things soon grew passionate between them.

Bruce held Tina around the shoulders and said, "…That’s how it is. I really can’t find anyone suitable. Politicians don’t survive long in Gotham. I can’t spend that much money every time just to buy a few months of peace, can I?"

Tina brushed back her hair and lay against Bruce. "I’m starting to wonder if you came at exactly this time on purpose. My brother has been in quite a bit of trouble lately, and he’s worrying about where to hide."

"What happened to him? What kind of trouble could make even the leader of the Evangelical Gang want to avoid it?"

"A few days ago, a seven- or eight-year-old boy died in a gang shootout. Of course, he was white. He was hit by a bullet on his way home from school. The impact was huge. If you’ve read the papers, you should know that condemnations have come in from all over."

"The Evangelical Gang wasn’t involved in this. We’re part of the Mafia, after all. We don’t believe in carrying guns around and shooting every day. But unfortunately, it happened on Evangelical Gang territory. Who knows which idiot fired a bullet that far…"

"My brother isn’t afraid of the local gangs, but the joint investigation team is troublesome. It’s made up of legislators from several states, all backed by different forces. You can’t solve that by giving them a few bullets…"

"So your brother wants to lie low somewhere else?"

"Of course. If you’re willing to spend some money to help my brother settle this trouble, the Brown family will be grateful to you," Tina said.

Bruce paid no attention to the ulterior motive in her words. He had known from the beginning that Tina had approached him for a reason. After all, his own intentions had not been pure either. It was merely playing along.

"You should think this through. Being Gotham’s mayor isn’t easy."

Tina raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Don’t you know? The godfather of Gotham’s most famous Falcone family actually came from a branch of the Chicago Mafia. We share the same roots. My father had always been in contact with that godfather. After he passed away, my brother even made a special trip to Gotham to visit Lord Falcone."

"Of course, I also know my brother can’t establish himself with that little favor alone. But if you stand on his side too, things will be much easier."

Bruce said nothing, but he felt that the most important thing this future mayor would have to rely upon was probably that professor’s mad plan.

His meeting with Roy still took place on a Gotham morning. He was a very typical Chicago gang boss, wearing a trench coat and a fedora, carrying a violin case on his back. Inside was the famous Chicago Typewriter.

This new mayor satisfied Schiller greatly because, in no more time than it took to smoke a cigarette, he had fully grasped Schiller’s intention: to have Gotham’s gangs and Chicago’s gangs join hands in friendship and develop together.

And Roy wholeheartedly agreed that there was tremendous potential in it.

Roy was a ruthless man as well. During the era when Chicago public housing gangs ran rampant, he had managed to preserve traditional gang territory by relying on the legacy left behind by the Mafia.

Chicago’s gangs were not as terrifying as Gotham’s, but they were actually more complicated. There were conflicts between traditional gangs and modern gangs, as well as struggles between people of different skin colors. Anyone who could fight their way out of such a complex situation was certainly no fool.

As a Chicago gang leader, Roy naturally would not dare dream of linking up Gotham’s gangs. That would be no different from inviting a wolf into his home. But if he could join Gotham’s gangs and then connect Chicago’s gangs, he would become the wolf entering the house.

And he would have every justification. The Falcone family was also a branch of the Mafia, and Old Godfather Falcone was the most authentic of Romans, with Italian blood flowing through his veins.

What did it mean for the Mafia’s true orthodoxy to be in Gotham? This was called returning to the source and acknowledging one’s ancestors.

Precisely because Roy understood gangs so well, he knew this plan had a great chance of success.

In this era, the idea of joining forces to make the pie bigger was still relatively rare. Everyone operated as scattered fighters, but as long as the smart people among them could see the enormous benefits to be gained, they would naturally unite.

So Roy became a Gothamite in spirit without any hesitation, immediately deciding that he had no reason to stay in that dump of Chicago.

An outsider from Chicago coming to Gotham and throwing his weight around would naturally be rejected by the gangs. But if that person was Godfather Falcone’s godson, it was different.

Some even speculated that perhaps Falcone felt his biological son Evans was incapable of taking on great responsibility, which was why Roy had come to Gotham. Roy was indeed somewhat older than Evans, but not by much. He was still very young and made an excellent candidate for an heir.

The first step of the plan achieved fairly notable results. Gotham’s largest Mafia family and Chicago’s second-largest gang joined forces, and the results were exceptional.

They divided up the goods flowing through the docks. Based on the types of smuggled goods and the distances involved in transport and logistics, they reassigned the locations where cargo ships would dock and unload. All the docks controlled by Gotham and the docks controlled by the Evangelical Gang in Chicago united, quickly sorting out the previously chaotic, fragmented smuggling routes under their respective control.

Naturally, they did not forget to solicit outside business. In smuggling, every side basically had some connections. Now, by paying only a small price, they could enjoy preferential policies and gain docking and transport rights at major docks in both cities. They could even open a new logistics route between the two cities, speeding up the flow of smuggled goods across the entire East Coast.

The effects of this measure were extremely obvious. The financial reports in Falcone’s hands, which continued to climb, were the strongest proof.

Originally, Old Godfather Falcone had already reached his twilight years. His greatest wish was to smoothly hand over the Falcone family as soon as possible, so that his life’s work would not go to waste.

But now, Schiller suddenly served up a huge cake and claimed it was merely an appetizer. Falcone’s appetite, which had declined for so long, suddenly revived.

Falcone had been invincible in Gotham for too long, but the godfather’s appetite had never been small. When he saw Schiller’s somewhat mad plan, Falcone suddenly felt that ruling Gotham for another forty years was not impossible.

Falcone thought that if the Black Pyramid depicted in this plan could truly be realized—no, even if only half of it came true—then perhaps the world’s entire criminal economy would undergo a major reshuffling.

The cigar in the hands of this godfather, who had commanded the winds and clouds for many years, went out. But what rose again was the immense ambition he had carried when he first set foot on this land.

Standing before the manor’s floor-to-ceiling windows, he heard the bells of Gotham Cathedral ring again. It was just like decades ago, when he stepped ashore through the waves along the coastline and struggled amid the tide of sin in this city.

In countless Dreams where he glimpsed The Truth, Falcone remembered the dark clouds that blocked most of the raindrops in every Gotham drizzle. They had been the first half of the godfather’s life.

He thought that dark clouds were still clouds, just as a Black Pyramid was still a pyramid.

He hoped he could live to see that day, to see a pyramid rise from the ground on this land he despised so deeply and loved so dearly, facing the soul-eroding rain.

In the office, Schiller stood before the window, listening to the heavy tolling bells echoing over the city, drifting farther and farther away through the curtain of layered clouds.

Now, these thinning clouds were about to disperse. Next, Gotham would face all this malice head-on.

He thought that here, only evil could fight evil, and only a deeper darkness could resist the darkness.

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