In the dimly lit room, Falcone reclined in his chair, casually puffing on a cigar as he recounted Gotham's past. "Sal, just like his partners, had a touch of cleverness about him. I rember the first ti I laid eyes on him; he was a greenhorn fresh off the boat to Gotham, trying to extort the shipowners down at Pier. It wasn't long before Lauren from the Red Light District took a liking to him. That Scarlet Witch showed him the ropes in that part of town, and before you knew it, he owned a bar. It all happened over twenty years ago..."
Schiller listened intently, then asked, "Sal won't spare that police station chief. Even if he has to pry information out of his mouth, that man's days are numbered. Can you offer sothing in exchange? Perhaps there are others you'd like to see taken care of, or so troubles you want to disappear?"
"My troubles co from tropolis. I won't trouble The Godfather with them," replied Schiller.
Falcone raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. "The gentlen I helped you deal with seem to have quite a reputation. Who have you managed to cross paths with?"
Schiller lifted his gaze and said, "Your Excellency, I believe I might be the longest-lasting family tutor for your son."
Falcone tapped the table with the end of his cigar. "When you work for , I ensure trouble stays away from you. But when you choose to dabble in strange affairs and then seek refuge here..."
"Aren't you worried that I might implicate the Falcone Family?" Schiller inquired.
Falcone turned his chair back around and said, "When has the Falcone Family ever been on the shore? Since the day I arrived in Gotham, I've known that we're all wrecks in a sunken ship, never to reach the shore."
He sighed softly and continued, "But my son thinks differently."
Evans Falcone, also known as Evans Falcone, differed from the old Godfather. He was passionate, believing he could restore order to Gotham by his own ans. True, he was the heir to the future Gang family, but his vision of order was founded on violence, not a utopia.
Honestly, his approach might be more normal than Batman's. Absolute violence brought absolute authority, and absolute authority controlled everyone. The question was whether young Falcone had the capability for it.
After a while, the butler stood outside the door and knocked. Evans, standing behind him, visibly tensed. He entered, saw Schiller, and hesitated before turning to the butler and whispering, "Do you rember ntioning anything about forgetting howork or failing to submit assignnts recently?"
The butler shook his head, and Evans visibly relaxed. Schiller stood up and said, "Evans?"
"Do you know each other?" Falcone asked.
"Father, this is my college professor. I ntioned to you that I needed to work on a psychology assignnt."
Before Falcone could say anything, Evans continued, "I apologize, Professor. If there have been issues with my recent assignnts, it's probably because I've been busy with the happenings in the east side of town. I may have neglected my studies. Professor Schiller ca to visit you, and I'm truly sorry."
Schiller understood the misunderstanding. Evans had assud he was here for a ho visit, and now he was probably scared stiff.
Schiller had heard all about his fearso reputation - always hounding students about assignnts, even calling Bruce Wayne out for not turning them in and threatening to expel him from the university board of directors.
As the heir of the Gang family, Evans initially didn't believe the rumors. However, now he did. Who, in their right mind, would co to The Godfather for a ho visit?
It wasn't entirely surprising that Schiller was so concerned about assignnts. He hadn't quite adapted to the teaching style of this era. Many students struggled with the heavy psychology textbooks, and if they couldn't do well on the final exam, they had to rely on their coursework grades to pass. If you didn't submit assignnts and had no coursework grades, the chances of passing were terrifyingly low.
If the pass rate is too low, it would certainly affect his evaluations, even though Gotham University didn't have a reliable professor evaluation system, and no one cared whether students passed or not. However, Schiller was used to this from his previous life. He felt that he hadn't even used three-tenths of his abilities, yet these students at Gotham University had already crumbled.
If he were to throw them into the university where Schiller had taught in his previous life, a simple classroom essay could overwhelm them. You see, those students would write twenty thousand words for a short essay and et book-length standards for their longer papers.
So, he couldn't understand why soone would fall short of the word count requirent for a paper that only needed around 3,000 words. Moreover, English papers inherently had fewer words than Chinese papers. Writing a standard 3,000-word paper would only result in about 2,000 words. How could they fail to et this requirent?
Therefore, after Schiller employed various thods to chase after assignnts, finally, about three-quarters of his students managed to submit their work. This naturally included Evans, who was one of the better ones. He submitted basically every assignnt, t the word count, and his content was reasonably good. He even achieved the top spot two or three tis.
Schiller thought such good students deserved praise. They were all freshn, yet when you looked at soone like Bruce, who was completely uninterested in learning, his 2,000-word papers consisted of one-third transitional words, one-third aningless modifiers and descriptions, and the rest was just "the" and "a." While others only used two characters for an ellipsis, he managed to write a long row of them. Schiller couldn't believe he let Bruce get away with it.
Falcone raised an eyebrow slightly and asked, "So, how is Evans performing at school? Are there any issues with his assignnts? What about his exam scores?"
Evans took a deep breath, and Schiller replied, "In fact, he's doing very well. I've talked to Anna, who teaches advanced mathematics, and she ntioned that Evans is quite strong in the sciences. At least I would be willing to offer him a postgraduate position, and he also shows promise in psychology."
Evans breathed a sigh of relief, and when he saw his son's performance, Falcone said directly, "From now on, Professor Schiller will be your family tutor."
Evans shivered, feeling a chill run down his spine, but he didn't dare to question his father's decision and could only reply, "Alright, Father."
Falcone gripped the armrests of his chair and stood up from it, saying, "It seems I need to take care of those troubles you brought from tropolis."
Schiller shook his head and said, "This is a significant trouble. I don't think the price I paid is worth it."
Falcone responded, "Becoming my son's family tutor is indeed not enough, but if you beco a friend of the Falcone Family, we will resolve any troubles for our friends."
"Behind tropolis, there's a colossal dark vortex that no one can imagine. I escaped from there but lost a lot. People from Gotham don't need to get involved in tropolis' affairs, right?"
Falcone shook his head, took a puff of his cigar, and said, "You still don't understand , sir. Forty years ago, I ca to Gotham alone, and at that ti, no one had ever heard of the Falcone na. Thirty years ago, I beca the master of three streets, and there was no Falcone Family back then..."
"I don't want to boast about my achievents, but I've ruled Gotham for forty years, ruled this city that was once called hell."
Falcone used the end of his cigar to tap the table, and cigarette smoke rose from his fingers as he continued, "So, you only need to answer 'yes,' and all the troubles you've experienced will be gone."
Schiller looked at him, and Falcone's expression was even calr than Schiller had imagined.
Schiller thought, this Falcone was undoubtedly not the minor comic book villain from Batman's early days. He was the rightful Godfather of Gotham, the uncrowned king of the city.
In the absence of Batman, Gotham was never quiet, and The Godfather had ruled it for forty years. Such a person couldn't be as foolish and shortsighted as described in the comics.
In the end, Schiller stepped forward, kissed Falcone's right hand, and said, "...God bless Gotham, The Godfather."
Schiller emphasized the last word in his mouth, and Falcone detected the subtle difference, but he didn't mind.
No matter how brilliant he had been over these forty years, The Godfather had truly grown old, and the heir to the Falcone Family was far from mature.
Falcone thought, perhaps, Gotham's era without a king was about to arrive.
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