Chapter 26: Divine Power Before Men

In a wretched place like Gotham, there was never any true light.

Harvey Dent had once tried to become Gotham's White Knight but failed—falling and becoming Two-Face. Even Batman had no choice but to become the Dark Knight, using darkness to fight darkness.

The Gotham Police Department had long since been tainted by the city's criminal underworld, becoming a shield and collaborator for criminals.

"So what you're saying is, now that Cheedy Cole is dead, we've lost our protection.

And we might soon face pressure from both the Two-Face Gang and the Gotham PD?"

Shimizu rested his chin on his hand, eyes contemplative.

"Well, uh..."

"Forget it. I'll take care of that.

Just tell me what the gang's current situation is."

"Boss Walter, let me explain!"

"I handled the books for Chee—uh, for Cheedy.

Right now, the gang's turf includes this abandoned factory at the edge of the old industrial zone, and the entire stretch of Hogg Street."

A middle-aged white man with glasses gave Shimizu a sycophantic smile, pulled a small notebook from his back pocket, licked his finger, and flipped it open as he spoke:

"Every household on the street pays $300 a month in protection fees.

We take half the profits from six stores.

Plus there's a department store and a used motorcycle shop—altogether, those two alone bring us over $50,000 a month."

"But 50% of that goes to the Two-Face Gang.

And Cheedy Cole took another half of what was left.

That means what's left is barely enough for our brothers to get by—not enough to live it up.

So the guys usually hustle side jobs—manual labor, guarding shops, that sort of thing."

"As for weapons, we've got seven handguns, all second-hand, and about a hundred rounds of ammo.

No heavier firepower.

But the bikes from the motorcycle shop are all ours to use.

Other weapons include bats, crowbars…"

Shimizu raised an eyebrow.

This Cole Gang was broke.

And yet… this was the best-equipped small gang he'd found in Gotham's slums.

Their decent status was all thanks to the Two-Face Gang's protection.

Breaking it down, after Cheedy and his brother Carman Cole took their cut, the thirty-plus gang members were only pocketing $300–400 each per month.

In Gotham? That's barely enough to survive.

Still, being part of the Cole Gang meant you weren't easily bullied in the slums—and could bully some civilians yourself.

In Gotham, that kind of monthly income was practically slave wages.

But if you treat the $300–400 as base pay, and add the income from side jobs like muscle work, protection rackets, or street-level theft, these guys could afford to blow some cash.

"I get it now.

The Cole brothers were pocketing over ten grand a month.

Cheesy must have stashed quite a bit of cash.

Take me to it."

Shimizu waved to the fake-smiling middle-aged man.

"Uh… Boss Walter, I did manage Cheedy's books, but…"

"Do you think I believe that?"

Shimizu stared him down.

"Sorry, Boss Walter. I don't know.

But Cheedy had a private room here—nobody was allowed in.

Only he and his brother had the key."

The accountant's eyes shifted toward the puddle of mangled flesh on the ground.

That key was no longer usable.

"Show me."

Shimizu stood from his chair, hands behind his back. With a flick of his finger, Black Gold strode forward to his side.

"Heh… yes, sir! I'm Dura—Dura Bent.

Studied accounting at Gotham Gladia Church University.

Did some time a few years back for cooking the books for a company—lost my wife, my kid, and went bankrupt.

Ended up here to make a living..."

"No worries.

Doing time just means you've completed your accounting internship.

I believe you have a bright future as Gotham's top accountant."

"Boss, I'm Anger! I fix bikes—the used motorcycle shop is mine..."

"Boss Walter, I'm Frank..."

All the way there, the gangsters scrambled to introduce themselves, hoping to leave an impression on the new boss.

Just the sight of Black Gold, tall and fearsome, made it clear: Gotham was about to gain a new supervillain. This gang's future was far beyond that of any other small-time crew.

If they buttered up the boss now, maybe they too could rise to the top one day.

"Boom!"

Black Gold smashed open Cheedy Cole's door with one powerful pneumatic punch.

"Search."

Shimizu gave a casual order.

"Yes, boss!"

"On it, boss!"

"Right away, boss!"

The gang scattered, rummaging through the room chaotically.

"Boss, would you like to sit?"

A yellow-haired punk dragged a chair behind Shimizu.

"Boss, let me massage your legs!"

"Boss Walter! I'll rub your shoulders!"

…

"Get back to work."

"Following orders is far more important than flattering me."

Shimizu kicked the chair aside, his voice cool.

These were just a bunch of aggressive street punks.

They'd never be like ninja or soldiers, following orders with military precision.

But training discipline was the best way to turn this rabble into a real fighting force.

If Shimizu truly wanted to become a Gotham crime lord, he had to start grooming a loyal and obedient crew from now on.

As expected, these low-level Gotham thugs were nowhere near as competent as the high-IQ types locked up in Arkham. They couldn't even search a room properly.

By dusk, they still hadn't found a cent.

"Turn on the light. Keep looking."

Shimizu sat atop Black Gold's shoulders, gazing down at the room from above.

He'd been observing the whole time.

Most of the room had already been searched. What remained didn't look like it could hide money or secret compartments.

Accountant Dura flipped the light switch—but nothing happened.

"Boss! I can fix the light! Just give me a few minutes!"

A punk with rainbow-colored hair raised his hand eagerly.

"Do it."

If they couldn't find anything in 30 minutes, Shimizu would just order Black Gold to tear the whole room apart.

Soon, they brought over a step ladder, and the colorful-haired punk climbed up to fix the bulb.

As he turned the bulb base, before the bulb could be removed, a part of the ceiling shifted, revealing a thin seam.

Shimizu's eyes flashed.

"Stop."

He immediately gathered chakra in his feet and walked up the wall, hanging upside-down from the ceiling like a ninja.

The gangsters stared in utter shock.

The one fixing the light almost fell off the ladder.

(End of Chapter)