Yet, they don't realize that those they have displaced are their own future.
But Jason saw this. He understood that if all previous humiliations and exploitations could be endured, there is no longer any room for retreat under the present situation.
Capital devours all those adrift, driving them off their native lands, leaving them holess, penniless, and stripped of all they owned.
Those who have taken everything don't feel any sha. They lack pity for anyone else. They simply feel that they deserve it all.
It may appear as though they can ander, look for a new ho, but in truth, they have nowhere left to go, no options left.
The local mob drives them out, taking over more houses. Mobs elsewhere do the sa. In the end, the streets are left for vendors to earn money, the houses are left for mobs to rent out, the jobs are left for those with stable hos, the food is left for those with money.
They will lose everything eventually. Who can they bla then?
By that ti, they can only bla themselves, their lack of money, jobs, houses, their lack of effort, their lack of talent.
Those who haven't read these books or grasped this concept can only repeat these words as they head towards their graves.
But Jason will not accept such a fate, and he does not want these children to accept it either.
But now, it is too late to learn from books, they don't have the luxury to accept an education, or rather, Jason rembers Shiller once told him it's never too late to learn in practice.
"What exactly are you planning to do?" the Six-fingered Sister asked. She said, "Don't do anything foolish, my injury was caused by a mber of the mob from my boyfriend's street. He abandoned , refused to help, and I don't want to rely on him either..."
"Yes, we shouldn't depend on anyone. Don't expect them to pity us for any reason." Jason said in an increasingly calm tone, looking at Jon and the Six-fingered Sister,
"We should take what we want ourselves."
As the night fell, the starry sky deepened. Gotham hadn't experienced rain today, which was rare. Unknown if the previous days' storm had taken away the rain clouds, or it was a quiet backdrop left for the outcry of so weak creatures.
On the rooftop of a low building, the mob boss, dressed in a suit, was reading the newspaper. He took a puff of his cigar and asked, "Have those kids been chased away? How many were there?"
"There were 26 in total, Boss. We had provided 26 rooms for them."
The Mob boss laughed and said, "I'm grateful for these little pests. They sucked my blood for so long; finally, they're gone, leaving with quite a bit of reward."
"Looking at the hot scene of Living Hell, there's no worry renting these houses. By that ti, 10 dollars is the minimum price. I have reached an agreent with the boss from the west street; we will raise the price together. There's no fear that the third street won't follow..."
A mob mber hurried forward to flatter him. They were actually just a small gang, with only a dozen people, earning just two to three hundred US dollars a month. But after the renovation, the rent alone will be over 1000 dollars, perhaps his salary would also increase.
"Oh right," the Mob boss waved a finger and said, "Since there will be rental inco in the future, there is no need for the route to the wharf. Repairing cars is a bottomless pit, why should we bother so much?"
"Who's in charge of that route? Let him go, but I'll take half of his wage and distribute it among you all..."
"Also, I heard that the safety in Living Hell is managed by the Big Mafia. In that case, we can cut half of the four people who were guarding our door before..."
The gang mbers in the room glanced at each other. They could only agree saying: "Actually, I heard the small gangs in Living Hell don't need that many people. If there were fewer people, there wouldn't be so much trouble..."
His words had barely left his lips when a commotion was heard from below. The mob boss's face darkened, and several mbers swiftly exited to investigate what the matter was downstairs.
Suddenly, the room was completely deserted, save for the boss. At this mont, a sound ca from the balcony. The mob boss cautiously pulled out his gun, but the visitor happened to be Six-fingered Sister.
"Don't shoot! Boss, I have sothing to tell you!" Six-fingered Sister seed desperately anxious as she spoke, "So trouble has occurred in the adjacent gang's headquarters. I've co to relay a ssage. It concerns housing relocation and it's very urgent!"
Seeing it was a young girl, whose arm was wrapped in bandages and who he seed to recall encountering on the streets—likely a mber of the Children's Gang—with an urgent matter, the boss allowed his vigilance to wane slightly. He asked, "What's so urgent that you ca scurrying over here?"
Six-fingered Sister sneaked glances left and right, then lowered her voice and said, "We happened to pass by the neighboring gang's turf when we left the main street today. We heard one of their financial people discussing a change in the housing matter..."
The mob boss imdiately frowned, "A change? What sort of change?"
At this point, Six-fingered Sister seed hesitant, then said, "Boss, you kicked us out and now we're holess. The kids are starving. We desperately need money..."
The mob boss scoffed, "You want to bargain with ? You little devils have been leaching off us for years. We've already been too kind by letting you off!"
"I know, you dream of having your own house, but let tell you, you're delusional. All the houses here belong to . Starve or freeze to death for all I care! The sooner you're dead, the better—eyesores!"
Six-fingered Sister's expression gradually iced over as she said, "We worked for you for over a year, delivered countless ssages to you. If it weren't for Jason, would you have managed to secure that dockside operation?"
"Jason?" The mob boss sneered as he sat back down and cocked his gun, before taunting, "That little shit thinks he's so clever, but where is he now? Did he seriously think he could beco so big shot and live in a fancy house? Dream on!"
"You bottom-feeders, don't even dream of having a roof over your heads. Starve every day for all I care, so you'd cause less trouble. If you were well-fed and warm, how would I survive?"
Six-fingered Sister watched him silently. This unsettled the mob boss a little, as he noticed the girl was staring at him as if he were already a dead man.
Just as the mob boss tried to rise, he sensed a shadow descending from above. A rope slipped around his face and bit into his throat.
Erging from the shadows was Jason, with an indifferent expression.
His face was calm. He didn't utter a word, but the hand that held the umbrella strap was trembling slightly.
The mob boss kept grasping at his throat, gnashing his legs, and flailing his limbs, but soon, his eyes were bulging out and his tongue was exposed. His chest had ceased heaving, and Six-fingered Sister covered her mouth with her hand.
Jason gripped the umbrella strap tighter and never let up for a mont. At this instant, the passing of life didn't move him in the slightest. For the first ti, he bore the na of a killer and lost his innocence.
Killing is a cri under the law of normal society; in the rules of the mob, the mbers of the Children's Gang aren't allowed to resist. But as the rope sank into the flesh of the mob boss, nearly severing his cervical vertebrae, the forces Jason exerted—he never had an instant's thought of letting go—reaffird that this was what he should do, and what he had always wanted to do.
His slightly loosening knuckles let the umbrella strap fall to the ground, where the noise of the buckle hitting the floor was exceptionally clear and deafening.
With a thunderous sound, Gotham's night rain finally arrived. Within a lowly building, a beam of light shone on a red hood visible through an inconspicuous window. It looked much like Gotham's sunset.
"Why do you want to put on this hood?" Six-fingered Sister asked.
But Jason's reply, piercing through the glass into Gotham's rainy night, was as startling as a sudden spring thunderstorm.
"Because, I like the color of the hood."
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