Laughing American comics, I am becoming more and more like a clown

So they became their boss again.

What has changed? Oh, the salary has increased.

The most ridiculous thing is that prices are also going up - they have to go up, the goods are being snatched away, and they are going up under the regulation of the big hand of the market.

So nothing has changed, just like so many other rebellions, nothing has changed.

"Work, okay, proof of residence... no? Okay." Outside the factory, the HR officer looked at the thin man standing in front of him and sighed hypocritically, "Everyone who wants a job... needs proof of residence. It's not just us. Without it, we won't even know if you're from Gotham... If you run away halfway through the job, we won't have anywhere to look for you..."

"Is there no way?"

"Well, it's not that we don't have...temporary workers, but well, well... you know, hiring you would be a huge risk for us."

The thin man looked at the sign that read "Free food and accommodation, high salary, free training, insurance", pointed, and turned around: "Which of these...?"

"Look," the HR representative said, counting on his fingers. "We definitely can't pay for insurance. This involves a lot of aspects, and everyone does the same. Of course, after you become a regular employee, we will definitely pay for it."

"You'll definitely be able to get started with the job after training. Don't worry. Otherwise, there's no point in us hiring you if you can't, right?"

"As for food and lodging... that requires an employee card, but due to a system issue, those who aren't formal employees can't get food or lodging. Of course, they'll still be paid—on a piecework basis!"

The thin man thought about it and said, "But it wasn't just released..."

"That's for regular employees! You don't count!"

"..." The man looked up. He had interviewed many people before, but they were all basically like this. He simply lowered his head and said, "Okay, where do we sign the contract?"

“There’s no contract, just registration.”

...So the man signed the registration form. He didn't even need to sign his full name, he just needed to write - Zawen.

……

He is Zhawen, the one who had a broken leg when he was released from prison earlier, but now he walks without any abnormality, as if walking on flat ground.

In a short period of time, all the new and old injuries on Zawen's body disappeared, but he became so thin that he was unrecognizable... even his former acquaintances couldn't recognize him.

Following the HR into the factory... He wasn't there to get a salary, he was there for revenge.

Chapter 212 Gangster

From a management perspective, in order to avoid conflicts between temporary and regular employees, the work locations are different and even the working and leaving times are staggered.

The only people Zawen could interact with were other aggrieved temporary workers like him.

The machine seemed to have a problem somewhere. The huge roar produced during operation was almost deafening. The high-frequency mechanical physical labor made it difficult to ensure normal thinking of the brain.

After a day's work, he received a meager salary...but his understanding of the factory was limited to his own workshop.

This is not what Zaven wants.

So on the second day, Zawen began to deliberately slow down his writing speed and kept finding various excuses to go to the bathroom - it didn't matter, after all, the piecework paid him daily according to the number of pieces completed, and no one cared about him.

But the workers were not blind. Zawen's behavior was obvious enough to them. During lunch, someone came over and said, "Brother, are you feeling unwell?"

Zawen frowned. In his imagination, he should be the one to strike up a conversation, not the one being struck up. But his brows soon relaxed, revealing a sinister smile: "What does this have to do with you?"

"Come on—no one is afraid of you, no matter if you are from the mafia, the army or the police." He poked Zaven's shoulder with a finger: "Do your job well, buddy needs this job now, if you dare..."

Zawen saw someone looking at him from the corner of his eye. He felt puzzled by the same sense of threat, but he didn't confront them head-on. He gave in without any burden. "I'm sorry, brother." He curled his lips and said, "I'm being threatened too."

"Threat? Who threatens?" the man asked.

"Batman."

"Bat-Batman." The man tapped his finger on his leg, thinking about the name: "Batman!... Come on! It's his lies that have led to this situation. He shot the mayor in public, and then pretended to be noble and didn't interfere! He just wants us to be his gun!" He said with contempt and indignation: "Brother, he is 100% trying to harm you!"

There was a glimmer in Zawen's eyes, but the corners of his lips turned down, half believing and half doubting: "Is it...?"

"Don't believe it?!" The man snorted and laughed, walked forward, put his arms around Zaven's neck, and pulled him towards him.

The strong smell of body odor mixed with the smell of sweat was very unpleasant, but Zawen had no resistance due to his thin body. Of course, he was only half-hearted.

"I'm telling you—what's your name?—I'm telling you, Zavin, Batman is a complete liar, a politician, a terrorist! A moron! A villain! A hypocrite! A psychopath seeking revenge against society!"

He seemed to be putting all the blame on the "Batman" who had instigated all the bad luck: "He tricked us into letting us take the blame - the blame for killing the mayor. He's a spy from the Soviet Union! A traitor!"

"If it weren't for him, nothing would have happened... My fucking family wouldn't have died! I wouldn't have to work as a fucking temporary worker—do you know who I was originally? I was a fucking rich kid! But shit, my dad got killed, and almost everything in our house was stolen! I came here to work!"

He was extremely excited, and his voice was not small. It was clear enough amid the roar of the machines, causing some people who had originally not paid attention to this side to look at him... Zaven had to speak to comfort them.

……

The ones who may suffer the most in the chaos are the old-established capital in Gotham, but the ones who suffer the most are the small capital that is in the stage of primitive accumulation of capital or has just emerged from the stage of primitive accumulation.

Their ability to resist risks is very poor, so if they are robbed once, they will be burdened with a large amount of debt and declare bankruptcy - the young man at the beach swimming pool will have to go to the factory to screw screws in the last second.

……

The young man who was screwing the screws was holding his work cap in one hand and even wiping his tears with the other hand... It was really a sad thing.

In fact, Zawen wanted to laugh at him, laugh at his fragility, bad luck, or mock him for having been rich... But in the end, he thought of himself - he was once a landlord, a rich second-generation who made money by collecting rent and selling prostitution.

So he couldn't laugh anymore, and with the corners of his lips turned down, he cried out his own experience with empathy...but he hid his ankle injury and Lucien's existence.

The end result is...crying bitterly.

So much so that the group of people who were sent to test Zawen's condition were all confused.

Then he learned about the situation with oohs and aahs, hugged and comforted Zavin, pulling him away from Batman and towards his own side. A few days later, someone confided in Zavin - they were actually gang members.

It was a small and unknown gang, not even worth mentioning. After a while, after having basic trust in Zaven, they invited him to join - after all, it was small and not very strict.

But after joining, Zaven understood what was going on.

Not only them, many small gangs have appeared out of nowhere in Gotham. Most of these people are not wandering around the streets, but entering factories or other positions that newcomers can do.

Those who have opinions about salary, treatment, working environment, or anything else, or who don't want to work, will be criticized.

If someone dies or is reported by many people, the police will send people to wipe out the gang... It doesn't matter, each gang is very small, and if you wipe out one, another one will pop up at any time.

There is definitely someone behind the scenes.

When Zaven received a salary from them that was twice as high as what he would have earned if he had worked hard, he naturally raised this question.

Perhaps because they shared a common affliction, the down-and-out young master was his closest friend. Also, because of his previous pampered lifestyle, the young master wasn't wary of hiding anything. He didn't know much, though, and simply said, "It's a wealthy boss... I don't know who it is—a major gang? The police? The military? A businessman? I don't know."

……

Not long after, Zawen saw a man who was just like him, always trying to observe something. During the test, he showed great malice towards rich people and a desire to expose the situation here.

The man disappeared from the factory the next day.

Then Zawen heard that the lunch of regular employees hardly had any trace of meat.

…It was also at this time that Zawen learned the inside joke of this small gang: "Every time a temporary worker quits, the regular employee gets an extra meal."

……

Cruel, dark, bloody and terrifying.

They stared at the temporary workers who were struggling to make a living like hyenas, greedily and viciously - this is a microcosm of Gotham today.

The army and police were still small in number, and government decrees were mostly issued for people in other cities to see. The supplies looted by the rebels were enough for them to stay at home for a long time... so the rich supported the gangs.

The gangs broke into their homes, stole their supplies, and forced them to work.

Chapter 213 Joke

In order to prevent their rightful interests from being reduced and to appear to be in compliance with the policy, the wealthy people tacitly expanded the existing temporary jobs, keeping more people in Gotham at a stage where they would starve if they did not work - in this way, they would not have the energy to resist.

Coupled with the supervision of the gangs secretly supported by the rich, in short, this is the reason why everyone works honestly and Gotham becomes eerily peaceful.

……

After Lucien and Jack regained their mobility, the darkroom was completely sealed - cleaning it was a big hassle.

"Tell me the truth - did anyone break your back?" Jack asked in confusion, looking at Lucian, who was supporting his body with a cane and was always a little hunched.

…Lucian forgot to explain again, so he casually made up something:

"Bruce stuffed you, and I had a hard time getting you out. I was badly injured—a broken back."

Jack frowned, "Do you think I'll believe it?"

"Why don't you believe it?"

Sitting on the sofa, facing sideways, Lucien pointed to the ashtray on Jack's side and motioned for him to hand it over: "Do you think everyone else wants you to come back to life?"

"Click--" After the crisp sound of the lighter, gray smoke rose from the fingertips.

"If you want to sow discord between us—" Jack handed over the ashtray without finishing the sentence, but his implication was obvious.

Lucien didn't argue. "I need to remind you of something, Jack—why are you here with me?"

"Stop it... You think I'll be suspicious? You might as well explain how you resurrected me."

"Curious about this?" Lucian said, "The bones come from the dead, the marrow comes from the enemies, and the flesh comes from the servants. Then they are steamed in a pot and resurrected."

"You think I haven't read Harry Potter?" Jack asked with a sneer.

This is the step in Voldemort's resurrection in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

"I thought so," Lucien admitted frankly.

Jack looked at him, through the thin smoke. The gray smoke made it impossible for him to see Lucian clearly, but he also knew that it was impossible... Jack simply didn't understand: "You always do things that are misleading, even more harmful to yourself than to others."

"But don't you think it's funny?"

"What's so interesting about that?"

"What's so interesting about this?" Lucian repeated, his tone more questioning than Jack's, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What's interesting is the series of interesting things that arise from this."

"What's interesting?" Jack asked again.

Lucien thought for a moment and said, "Did you know I have an expired Parents' Exchange Voucher and an unexpired Jack's Exchange Voucher that I want to give to Bruce?"

Jack:?

Lucian saw what he wanted and smiled contentedly: "Look, isn't this interesting?"

Before Jack could say or ask anything, he took the initiative to explain: "The core of comedy is tragedy, and humor is the soul floating out of the mournful corpse."

"Maybe you don't understand this... It just means you lack a sense of humor, and that you're happy enough."