Gotham’s Evening Bell (Part 1)

Silence echoed through the empty room. At last, Batman said, "From that day on, everything I did, every trial I endured, was for revenge."

"Law and judgment told me that Joe Chell killed my parents, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. I spent years making myself capable of questioning that conclusion."

"…And now, it’s time for the bat’s revenge."

Accompanied by the dull evening bell from Gotham Cathedral’s clock tower, Batman vanished.

Recent movements by the Edward family had led Batman, who kept Gotham City under constant surveillance, to discover that before the Edward brothers rose to prominence, when they had first arrived in Gotham, they had once ruled the alley where his parents died.

But now the Edward brothers were dead, leaving only their nephew. Young Edward had offended the Godfather; if Falcone refused to spare him, the Edward family would cease to exist as well.

Batman sought out Young Edward first. He did not need to send people to summon someone as the Godfather did. He could simply appear in the shadows behind anyone.

The next day, Gotham was once again shrouded in murky fog. Later, dusk painted even more color across the hazy mist above the city.

Schiller was chatting with the priest at the church entrance. Like a true Westerner, he entered and left the church on schedule, without seeming out of place in the slightest.

The priest here was highly learned and possessed a profound understanding of theology. Schiller enjoyed discussing philosophy and theology with him, while also gathering intelligence along the way.

The Old Priest had lived in Gotham his entire life. He had witnessed every era of Gotham and knew all its stories.

The priest said, "The dockworkers haven’t been coming around much lately. Perhaps their business has improved. I hope so. God tells people that they must atone through such diligent labor."

"There have been more merchant ships at the Gotham Docks lately. The cargo ship owners’ business has improved too," Schiller said.

"I remember that many years ago, for a time, a great many laborers liked to come here and pray. The church had never been so lively."

The Old Priest’s voice bore the distinct marks of his era, like old, faded railroad tracks stretching out from history.

"You could tell they weren’t busy back then. Perhaps there wasn’t much business. Many people complained, some had terrible tempers, and arguments broke out. I did my best to stop them."

"You’re a good man," Schiller said.

The Old Priest narrowed his eyes as he reminisced. "In those days, chaos was everywhere. I remember that the man who ruled the docks was named Rafe. He was not someone to be trifled with. People called him Big Beard, though some called him the Viking Pirate."

"He was huge and strong, with a full beard. He had more than a dozen equally strong men under him. They ran wild at the docks, and no one dared provoke them. They specialized in collecting protection money from laborers and extorting others."

"What happened afterward? Who dealt with them?"

"Falcone. The Godfather gave him a hard lesson."

The priest stroked his dry, age-withered fingers. "The docks should originally have fallen under the Godfather’s control, but for some reason, they ended up in the hands of the Edward family."

The priest shook his head and finally said, "I’m not saying the Edward family managed them poorly, but perhaps if the Falcone family had taken over the docks back then, linking the entire East End together, the Falcone family would be far stronger than it is now."

"I often hear people say…" Schiller said, "that the Godfather’s control over the East End is somewhat weak because he only controls parts of the northeast and southeast, while leaving the crucial docks alone."

The priest shook his head. "Perhaps he has his own plans."

Schiller pondered this. What the priest had told him was no secret, but it was not widely known because few people from that era had survived.

Of course, as for why the Godfather had not seized control of the docks in one sweep, Schiller guessed there might have been more complicated conflicts involved.

After night fell, Schiller bid the priest farewell and walked out of the church alone.

When the last ray of sunlight sank below the horizon, he heard seven heavy chimes ring out from the church’s clock tower above. The bells carried an indescribable air of decay.

At the church entrance, the priest made the sign of the cross over his chest and murmured, "That is the death knell… May God bless you. Your soul shall find release…"

Schiller stood outside and turned back. Amid the dark gray smog, he saw a black-and-yellow figure standing atop the towering clock tower.

Elsewhere, Young Edward lay sprawled on the ground. Facing the shadow with two pointed ears before him, he stammered, "I only know… I only know that back then… the Godfather ended the chaos at the eastern docks. My father and uncle wanted a share of it, even if they could only get one dock…"

"But… but the Godfather suddenly didn’t want any of them… So our family got all five docks. I don’t know what happened… I was too young then. You can only ask the Godfather. I really don’t know anything…"

After the bat-shaped shadow left, Young Edward trembled all over as he climbed up from the floor. He muttered a curse, then suddenly saw another shadow appear before him.

He looked up and saw a huge umbrella facing him. Behind it, a sinister eye stared at him. Edward had barely begun to scream in terror when his vocal cords and throat were sliced apart together.

After a faint sound, something heavy hit the ground. As the lights in the Edward family’s old residence went out, everything fell silent.

In the end, Batman still came to Falcone’s estate. It was pitch-black and so quiet that it seemed deserted.

Unlike the brightly lit Edward family residence, guarded through the night, the estate where the Gotham Godfather lived appeared to have no defenses at all. Batman knew that was abnormal.

At last, Batman found Falcone in his office. There was still no one else there. Falcone seemed to have been waiting specifically for him, sitting alone in the office before dawn.

"I knew you would come," Falcone said. "You weren’t careful enough when you investigated Old Edward’s background."

"That means there must be something special in his past, something worth your concern," Batman said.

"Indeed. Are you interested in hearing a story from many years ago?"

Then, from the Godfather who had ruled Gotham for forty years, Batman learned of that turbulent era he had never seen or heard of.

"…They gathered allies and acted without mercy. Among them, the Viking Pirate Rafe had the greatest power."

"I knew very well that if the Falcone family wanted to truly establish itself here, I had to start with him."

"That Big Beard had made a fortune by extorting ship owners for years. He refused to accept it and wanted to fight back against me."

"So, before many witnesses, I killed his entire family and stuffed him into a gunpowder barrel."

"Of course, that frightened quite a few people and made my plan proceed very smoothly."

"What I want to know is about Park Street," Batman said.

"Don’t rush. We’re almost there."

Falcone turned his chair and looked sideways at Batman. "You resemble your father." He nodded. "…Very much."

Before Batman could say anything, Falcone continued, "I cleared out the major factions at the docks, but I did not take them over. Instead, I handed them to the Edward family. That has to do with your parents."

"Your mother was a good person, a kind lady. She sympathized with the laborers at the docks and thought it was too hard for them to work more than ten hours a day. Your father agreed. They believed those poor people should be treated better."

"So they forbade the gangs from oppressing the laborers and established an easier work system for them. You know, they had to take breaks after only a few hours of work, eat something, drink some water."

"The Wayne Family was determined to reform the entire order of the Gotham Docks, but I knew… I knew."

"I knew they could not do it that way, but I was unwilling to oppose the Wayne Family. So I withdrew and let them manage things as they pleased."

"I allowed the Edward family to control all the docks. The Edward brothers were fairly clever."

Falcone lit a cigar. The faint flame illuminated his face. Beneath his sharp brow ridge lay deep black shadows that swallowed his eyes, though one could still faintly see the Young Godfather who had once dominated that era.

"So Edward hired that thug named Jor-El to kill my parents?"

Cigar smoke slowly drifted upward. Falcone’s speech grew slower and slower, as though the memories were becoming ever more distant and indistinct.

"You mean the person who actually carried it out? No, it wasn’t them. It wasn’t Edward."

"The one who truly did it was a dockworker named Louis."

"A laborer?" Batman found it utterly absurd. He asked, "Why? How could it have been a dockworker?"

"I know you cannot understand. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne helped them. Yes, the laborers no longer had to work such long hours every day, suffering oppression from both gangs and cargo ship owners. They had found their Savior…"

Falcone shook his head. "But you don’t understand. There were ranks among the laborers too. Carrying sandbags and moving heavy cargo were the hardest jobs. In the past, those were always done by the lowest-ranking workers, while the senior workers only handled easy tasks like assigning manpower and counting supplies."

"Your parents wanted no one to suffer, but then no one did the dirty, exhausting work. The cargo ship owners were delayed too long and lost a great deal of merchandise. They would rather take a longer route than come to Gotham Docks again."

"I remember… that Louis was… the foreman of the third or fourth dock. The Wayne Family kept a close eye on him. He had to assign everyone the same work, let them work only nine hours a day, and give them a two-hour break for meals."

"The ships sat there, and no one moved the cargo. The fresh produce and fruit aboard spoiled. The ship owner demanded compensation from Louis. Louis couldn’t pay, so the ship owner and sailors beat him and broke his leg."

"So he hired that thug and killed Mr. and Mrs. Wayne?" Batman’s voice was hoarse, as though it had fallen into an abyss.

"He turned to Old Edward for help, so they created that murder case together on Park Street."

"You must find it absurd. Judas betrayed his lord and made his benefactor suffer," Falcone said.

"…But that is Gotham, a place even devils would go out of their way to avoid."

Batman closed his eyes. This truth was completely different from what he had imagined.

This was not a story of perpetrators and innocents locked in conflict. There was no justice here that could be upheld at a glance.

Nothing was a white wall and a black shadow. It was an old, faded gray videotape, coated in the thick dust of that era.

"The thug who carried it out and the Edward brothers are all dead, but Louis is still alive. If you still want revenge, go to 7 Rear Alley, Divine Grace Street, on the east side of the church. He lives there."

After saying that, Falcone exhaled his final puff of smoke and closed his eyes as well.

His fingers were well maintained, with hardly any wrinkles. The cigar between them had burned out, and its glow gradually faded, silently placing a period at the end of that boiling era, at the end of every wave of that turbulent age.