"During this ti, there will be professional traffic guides to ease traffic, and we ask all drivers to strictly adhere to traffic rules, or deal with the consequences themselves."
The television broadcast ends there, and Bruce switches off the TV, suddenly struck by an ominous feeling.
As it turns out, Batman's hunches are generally proven correct, or it could even be said that Gotham's First Law is: in Gotham, no matter how sound your intentions, how brilliant your thods, or how perfect your plans, they can always turn them into complete disasters.
The next day, in the central roundabout of Gotham downtown area, a flamboyantly painted sports car slows down. The man inside rolls down the windows, leans out, and whistles at a woman standing by the street. A hippy youth covered in tattoos exclaid in a loud voice: "Hey, gorgeous! Look here. Look at Gotham's racing boy ..."
Before he could finish, the woman turned around, flicked her cigarette butt on the ground, picked up the rifle that was leaning against the light pole and shot at the car's tire.
The exploding sound startled the two people in the car. Just as they were about to express their anger, the woman walked up to them with her gun. She looked young, around twenty years old, with an attractive figure and a wild dark complexion.
She lit another cigarette, and then took a small book from her jean pocket. Barely glancing at the two shocked people in the car, she said, "Race boy, is it? Manic depression, chronic headaches, and pre-schizophrenia symptoms. I recomnd a three-month treatnt period."
As she talked, she scribbled in her book, then ripped out a page and threw it into the car. The tattooed young man picked it up and saw written at the top: "Arkham Psychiatric Hospital Diagnosis."
Imdiately, his face broke into an ingratiating smile and said, "Sorry, miss, I didn't know you're an intern at Arkham Psychiatric Hospital. Could I have another diagnosis just like this?"
"Right, is what they said true? Can we get a prescription for useful... I an headache relieving dications with this diagnosis?"
The woman gave him another once-over and said, "Yes, visit the head doctor at the hospital within three days for assessnt and room assignnt."
"Could we get another one? I think I might have a ntal health issue too," the other young man yelled.
The woman ignored him and took her walkie-talkie: "Fourth Avenue! Fourth Avenue! There's a modified supercar with a leak in its front left tire, two passengers... who do you work for?"
"East district's Old Smokey, our boss is Old Smokey!"
"People from East District's Old Smokey again, damn, why is it always those poor bastards from the East district? Don't those filthy rich folks from the West district drive anymore?"
Not long after she finished talking, two people zood over on police motorcycles. One of them, clad in a police uniform, curtly saluted, and then impatiently said, "Speeding, improper lane change, running a red light, $300 fine."
After taking a look at the RPG carried on their motorcycle, the young man begrudgingly paid the fine, and the other person accompanying the policeman walked over: "Hello, Dole Towing Company. Do you need a tow service?"
"Dale, why is it you? You bloody bastard! When did you start wearing suits? And since when does your family own a towing company?"
That young man called Dale straightens his suit and tie. It was clear that he had just bought the suit yesterday; it wasn't very well-fitted.
Leaning on the sports car, he lit up a cigarette and said, "Stop spouting nonsense; this is a family business that goes back eight generations. Considering we're friends, I'll give you a bit of a discount. $150 to tow you to the nearest main street. You know, these days only I know which roads aren't blocked up. Aren't you in a rush to see the warehouse in the East?"
The young man in the car scoffed, "Alright, seems like your boss really values you, assigning you work like this. You take care of the car, we'll walk to Arkham for so drugs."
While they were chatting, the woman turned her head and saw a black rcedes preparing to make a U-turn. She grabbed the loudspeaker at her waist and shouted, "Stop!!!! You're breaking traffic rules!!!"
In a few seconds, there was another gunshot. The police and tow truck n didn't even need to move as another deal was struck.
Proceeding down the street, there was an intern doctor posted at each intersection, responsible for stopping cars and issuing diagnosis certificates. Ard with walkie-talkies, they alerted police and towing services to traffic accidents, promptly writing tickets, fining and providing towing services. In less than ten minutes, they were able to clear the scene.
Of course, this was just on the main roads and the intersections far from the central city. Near the six battle fronts close to the city center, fighting was much fiercer.
Bruce turned to a bodyguard behind him and said, "Stop that red Lamborghini, tell him he took the wrong turn. He should turn around and return here for a diagnosis."
"And where did that foul-mouthed man go? Drag him out and give him a beating. Tell him Wayne did it."
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