Gotham’s Longzhong Plan (Part 1)

"…What I want to say is this: just as you can see, everyone knows what I used to do…"

On the counter of a bar, an old television showed Roy Brown lifting a violin case from beneath a table and setting it on the tabletop. With a click, he opened it, revealing a gun inside.

"I came from Chicago. That’s right, I was a Mafia boss there—one of the people you know as the Mafia…"

"This is my weapon. See it? This pretty little baby—you call it a typewriter, but I prefer to call him Hef…"

"What do you think this place is? What do you think I’m doing now? Do you think I ought to be sitting in the mayor’s office drinking tea? Let me tell you, this isn’t a threat…"

"I was born and raised in Chicago. My father and grandfather were too. Back then, they said this place would become a second gold mountain. Lots of people came here, all dreaming of getting rich. Big companies, huge machines, working around the clock…"

"But those people left, leaving behind a fire and a heap of pollution. After the Prohibition era, what did my hometown have left? A goddamn mess!"

"Riots ran rampant, and everyone lived in fear. What could we do? We had to pick up guns and defend ourselves…"

"And then you say, oh, Chicago is overrun by gangs, it’s a damned Hell. Well, I’m telling you now—it is Hell! A Hell that can swallow you bastards whole!"

"When those immigrants were carrying guns and killing people here, all the governor could say was that everyone needed to calm down. After the gang problem spiraled out of control, the Police Department? Ha! You’ve got the nerve to bring that up?"

"Let me ask you: where did the Police Department’s funding go? Why did Chicago have the largest police training academy on the East Coast, yet not a single new cop was willing to stay here?"

"Can you believe it? A year ago, Chicago had one gun for every three police officers on average. Some support staff could only defend themselves with batons!"

"Is this your so-called Public Safety Act?"

"Why did those damned public housing streets appear? Because there were too many unemployed people!"

"Why were they unemployed? Who should be blamed for the economic problems? What did those lords sitting on Capitol Hill like fat pigs do? They left the people of Chicago to fend for themselves! That’s all!"

"Now you’re sending telegrams and publishing articles to condemn us, saying Gotham let a Mafia boss become mayor. Let me tell you, I’ll be the best mayor this place has ever had!"

"Because I’m one of the Mafia. If you won’t solve our economic problems for us, then we’ll solve them ourselves. I’ll do whatever the hell I want!"

"I know some people say Gotham is even worse than Chicago. Oh, who else? Miami? Bludhaven? Imperial City?"

"Yes, in their eyes, us East Coast cities are a pile of dog shit. But they’re willing to watch that pile of dog shit sit right in front of them. Have we gotten even a little help from them?"

Roy directly pulled the Chicago Typewriter from the violin case and slammed it heavily onto the table. "Don’t expect me to listen to your bullshit. Go preach that good-little-boy crap to the West Coast!"

"The East Coast is just like this. There’s only one thing I have to do here: pick up a gun, kill everyone who stands in my way, then lead everyone to make money. I don’t care whether they’re Mafia or anything else!"

After the speech ended, the television screen above the bar flickered twice. The bartender patted the TV and said, "Well, looks like the old thing’s busted again."

The patrons grumbled in dissatisfaction. A large Black man sat at one end of the bar with a drink in hand. "Looks like the new mayor’s not bad. He’s a tough guy. He said what I wanted to say…"

"I was born in Gotham, yeah, just two blocks from here. You know, my boss took me out once before. Where was it again? Oh, right, Metropolis. When people heard I was from Gotham, they looked at me like I was something filthy…"

"If you ask me, this mayor’s pretty unusual. The guy who used to sit in the mayor’s office? Whenever reporters criticized him, he just tucked his head in like a turtle."

Then he let out a cold laugh. "And then he died. In a car accident over a month ago…"

"Oh, that guy. I don’t even remember his name, but I heard he was Gotham’s second longest-serving mayor."

"I think this one can definitely break the record. He’s the Old Godfather’s godson, and he’s a lot tougher than those limp-dick mayors."

The Black man also said, "What he said makes a lot of sense. Whether it’s Gotham or Chicago, these damned places were already like this before we were born. We live here and want to make a little more money. What’s wrong with that? All they do all day is call us bastards…"

"If I could grow up like those people in Metropolis, go to school, attend college, graduate, wear a suit and tie, and sit in an air-conditioned office, I’d have to be out of my mind to join the Mafia and get shot at!"

"He’s just talking." Another Black man walked over and ordered a drink as well. "Could he really be a mayor and lead all the Mafia to make money together? What kind of mayor does that? Even if those reporters don’t tear him apart, the State Government won’t agree to it…"

"I’m not asking him to lead us to wealth. I just hope he doesn’t act like those previous mayors, always coming up with some civilized city ordinance or anti-Mafia public safety law to lecture us every day…"

"Damned anti-Mafia public safety laws. Is there anyone in Gotham who isn’t Mafia? Why doesn’t he just say they should flatten the whole city?"

Everyone in the bar burst into laughter, and some even made gestures of nuclear bombs exploding.

The next day, Roy’s speech made the headlines of major newspapers across the East Coast and even the entire country. After all, this was no longer the Prohibition era. The Mafia had mostly scattered and fragmented, and gang culture had long since lost most of its former glory.

At a time like this, for a mayor to step forward and say, I am Mafia, I am part of the Mafia, and not only admit it but declare that he would lead the Mafia to make money, naturally invited a storm of condemnation from the major media outlets.

Metropolis Daily called it "a shocking regression of the times," while Global Times called Roy "a crude and barbaric thug." Yet regardless, the title "Mafia Mayor Roy Brown" spread across the entire country almost overnight.

What was somewhat strange, however, was that several cities tacitly chose not to comment. Some of their leaders even deliberately suppressed public discussion, displaying an ambiguous attitude. Among them were the East Coast cities Roy had mentioned.

In truth, every city whose pillar industries were illegal ones knew that Roy was telling the blunt truth.

The histories of those cities were all similar, as were the reasons gangs had emerged. Either they had formed to resist outside immigrants, or they were disasters left behind by the Prohibition era.

Most people in those cities found Roy’s tirade deeply satisfying, because no matter who it was, all they ever did was issue orders and demands. Beyond verbal condemnations and warnings, there was no real action to improve the miserable conditions in those cities.

Most people simply stood on high with a sense of superiority and claimed that those born in such places were evil by nature, that their wickedness had created these cities of crime.

But in reality, economic conditions were the root cause of it all. Apart from Gotham, which was somewhat special, most other Mafia cities had become what they were because economic decline had brought high unemployment.

People living in such an environment were practically born into the Mafia. If you said you wanted to wipe out the Mafia with a Public Safety Act, then you might as well drop a nuclear bomb and flatten those cities.

In these crime capitals led by Gotham, many Mafia bosses were deeply dissatisfied. It was already hard enough to risk their lives for money, but those people who talked without feeling the pain kept cursing them every day, making investors even more afraid to come and leaving the economy even more depressed.

In the past, the Mafia had felt somewhat guilty as well. No matter what, illegal industries really could not be brought into the light.

But Roy’s speech reminded them of something: they were not the ones chiefly responsible for these cities becoming what they were.

Setting aside the historical problems, the inaction of the State Government and Congress was also the biggest reason the situation had never improved.

I was born here and had nowhere else to go. I joined the Mafia, and you called me a thug. I wanted to move toward the light, but verbal condemnation and Public Safety Acts couldn’t give me bread. If I didn’t join the Mafia, was I supposed to wait and starve to death?

Then why couldn’t I be rotten? I’d be rotten!

The most important effect of Roy’s speech was that it gave these largely uneducated gangsters a relatively unified guiding principle: I’m this rotten now not because it’s my fault, but because it’s the world’s fault.

In truth, given Gotham’s circumstances, there was nothing particularly wrong with that idea. Those born in Gotham could not choose their birthplace, and once you were born in Gotham, you could only choose this Hell-mode way of life, or else you would not survive.

Geniuses and Supermen were a minority in this world. Ordinary people who lacked the power to change their class were the majority.

Those making the condemnations might not necessarily have been ignorant of this truth. But Roy had laid it out in the open and pointed out with surgical precision that the inaction of all parties and the weakness and incompetence of violent law enforcement agencies had created the several cities with the highest crime rates in the country. It was no different from ripping away the last fig leaf covering those political lords.

Naturally, the speech caused an enormous backlash in orderly society. Even the State Government legislators bought by Wayne Enterprises struggled to withstand the pressure. The State Government ordered Gotham City’s mayor suspended pending investigation and planned to restart the mayoral election process.

In the past, this process had merely been a formality in Gotham. Basically, whoever Wayne said was suitable got the job, and the Mafia did not care, because Gotham City’s mayor actually had very little power. The Mafia would not listen to the mayor anyway, so it made no difference who took office.

But the State Government felt Roy had gone too far this time. Even the Federal Government had sent a reprimand. You could be rotten, but you couldn’t be rotten with such perfect confidence. Didn’t that make them look bad?

So they planned to hold another mayoral election.

This was a tactic they often used to settle similar troubles. As long as they restarted the election process and let the person who had made the mistake suffer a crushing defeat in the new election, proving that his views did not represent public opinion, most of the public backlash and anger from above would naturally die down. Based on past experience, this tactic had never failed.

Until the State Government legislators saw that the first-ranked candidate among the new contenders was named Carmine Falcone.