There is no Batman in Gotham City comics.

Starting from Lower Gotham, the rusty light rail rolls across the bridge, crosses the murky Gotham River, and heads straight for downtown.

Inside the empty carriage number five, seven or eight well-dressed Roman men occupied an entire row of seats.

After distributing the food in paper bags, Oswald sat down next to Qin Wei and handed him the last hot dog.

You seem distracted.

Qin Wei shook his head without saying a word, took the piping hot hot dog wrapped in old newspaper, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.

"When I first entered this industry, I was just as lost as you are, but every time I saw Mr. Maroney, I felt full of energy..."

In Oswald's description, Maroni is elegant and charming, and the way he walks with his cane is like Michael Corleone from The Godfather.

"When I sit in Mr. Maroni's position, I will definitely get a cane just as beautiful."

Qin Wei nodded.

For some reason, these words sounded perfectly natural coming from Oswald's mouth, as if the owner of this name was born to make a name for himself.

When the light rail stopped, passengers who boarded the train saw this group of thugs in suits and fled into other carriages as if they had seen a plague god.

Only an elderly man with a hunched back sat down opposite them.

The old man had sparse, gray hair, and his wrinkled coat smelled sour. He was also clutching a paper bag tightly in his hand.

He seemed a little hungry, as he kept staring at the half-eaten hot dog in Qin Wei's hand.

"Do you want some?"

Qin Wei didn't have much of an appetite, so he handed the food out.

The old man nodded, muttering something unintelligible, and took the hot dog, taking large bites of it.

"Are you satisfied now? If you are, then get out of here!"

Oswald, who had been observing coldly, suddenly spoke up. He pulled out brass knuckles from his inner pocket with a sneer and threatened the old man, scaring him into a corner of the carriage.

"The Romans are not some kind of charitable foundation; we must maintain a tough stance towards them, otherwise anyone will dare to take advantage of us."

He put away the brass knuckles and explained to Qin Wei.

"I don't want this to happen again."

Qin Wei had no choice but to nod in agreement.

But before the little incident was over, the old man in the carriage was wolfing down his hot dog when suddenly a hand reached out from the side and grabbed the paper bag in his arms.

The old man instinctively protected the bag, and as soon as he raised his head, he was slapped across the face.

The three young men who caused the trouble had wandered in from other carriages and reeked of alcohol.

Violence was happening every day in the corners of Gotham, and the Romans in conversation glanced at each other indifferently, none of them wanting to get involved.

The old man refused to open the paper bag and was dragged to the ground and punched and kicked by three young men.

Qin Wei clenched his fists tighter and tighter.

But when he tried to get up, Oswald pressed him down.

"Have you forgotten what I just said?"

Oswald's brows furrowed, and his eyes gleamed coldly beneath the shadows of his eye sockets.

The old man's wails echoed in the quiet carriage.

"It's a bit noisy, I want to remind them to keep it down."

"That's a rather novel reason. If you truly believe it, then go ahead. The glory of the Romans will be your support."

"Boss, are you really sending Wei? Those guys reek of alcohol." Oswald's companion reminded him, implying that drunk people aren't very rational.

"Let him experience the hospitality of Gotham people on his first trip out."

……

The three youths were having so much fun that they didn't notice anyone approaching until Qin Wei grabbed one of their companions by the collar and pressed him against the train window. Only then did the other two hurriedly pull out their knives.

"You're Roman? We haven't done anything to you, have we?"

"You're disturbing my eyes!" Qin Wei glanced at the group with disdain, tilting his head and twitching his lips. In the past three months, he hadn't really made a move in the rent collection fights, but he had managed to learn most of the gang members' arrogant facial expressions.

Falcone's name carried weight in Gotham; the young men avoided eye contact, hunching their backs as if ready to flee at any moment.

"We understand, we'll behave ourselves. Please let him go!" a young man said.

The other party's respectful attitude made Qin Wei lower his guard, unaware that the controlled youth had already pulled a dagger out of his pocket.

An undercurrent was brewing inside the carriage.

As the light rail was about to enter the station and slowed down, the young man suddenly raised his elbow and struck Qin Wei in the face, then gripped the dagger and stabbed him as he stumbled and fell.

Just as the blade was about to pierce Qin Wei's lower abdomen, a dark figure suddenly appeared from the side.

With a flying kick and a scream, the young man was knocked to the ground. The blade that slipped from his hand drew a graceful arc in the air before falling into Oswald's hand.

"Tell me, how many cuts do I need on your pretty little faces to teach you fairness and humility!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the Romans all stood up from their seats.

These guys were seasoned veterans, some even with lives on their hands, and the imposing aura they exuded was far beyond what a greenhorn like Qin Wei could match.

The young people tried to escape, but the passage was blocked by the crowd of onlookers.

These arrogant and ignorant individuals were quickly brought under control.

"Mori, open the carriage door."

"Yes, sir!"

The henchman named Morrie inserted a dagger into the gap in the car door, and with a piercing alarm, a rush of air surged into the lifeless carriage.

The connecting area between the carriages was already crowded with onlookers, everyone knowing what fate awaited those three bastards.

But no one tried to stop them, not even to utter a single word.

The youths wailed and begged for mercy; one of them even wet his pants in fear.

The young people were thrown off the train, and the area under the bridge suddenly became lively with the sounds of heavy objects falling to the ground and vehicles screeching to a halt, but these sounds were quickly forgotten by the speeding train.

The carriage returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.

The paper bag in his pocket had been broken during the argument, and the old man, with blood at the corner of his mouth, was lying on the ground gathering up the cake crumbs scattered all over the floor.

This must have been a cake he gave to his wife. The words "To my dear Jenny" were crooked and twisted along with the collapsing cream, like maggots crawling on a corpse.

"Excuses are fine, but you should learn to let go of that useless sympathy."

Seeing Qin Wei staring intently, Oswald thoughtfully offered a suggestion.

The train stopped in the city center, and Qin Wei, who stepped off the platform, was immediately surrounded by skyscrapers on all sides.

The glass curtain wall reflected a dazzling light, luxury cars sped along the street, and well-dressed pedestrians walked with their heads held high, their steps firm and confident. Although there was only a river between them, Qin Wei felt as if he had crossed the barrier between hell and heaven.

"Stand tall, my buddy. We represent the Romans, we can't be looked down upon." Oswald straightened Qin Wei's collar and winked mysteriously.

……

In a rented room in North Harbor, Gotham City, the old man pushed open the half-closed door.

"Jenny, I'm back."

The room was quiet.

"I have bad news, I ruined the cake I prepared for you, but I also have good news, I met an interesting guy."

Clearing his throat, the old man's voice was no longer hoarse and murky.

He went into the bathroom, and a rustling sound drifted out from inside.

Judging from his back, the old man seemed to be tearing at his hair in front of a mirror.

A human skin mask appeared in his hand.

"He helped me, gave me half a hot dog, and even taught three thugs a lesson."

"How can there be people like this in Gotham? It's ridiculous."

The room was quiet.

The gleaming leather shoes kicked away the flying dust as they stepped into the living room.

"Jenny, so you're home! But why aren't you saying anything?"

The leather shoes walked to the sofa and took the dried corpse's hand.

His pale face was staring at the empty eye sockets, as if trying to dig something out of them. After a silent eye contact, he slowly extended two fingers and inserted them into the mummified corpse's mouth, trying to pry the withered lips into the shape he wanted.

"Please, darling, smile! Why are you so serious!"