"Like this, I spent a wild night, successfully making my false identity widely known. However, I have no intention of leaving here because there is still much I have yet to learn."
"After eting Godfather, I beca even more curious about this system of rules and order. I'm not sure if it's a product of the tis or the result of unique circumstances."
"But yesterday's experience made understand one thing: sotis, to figure out how the rules truly work, you don't necessarily have to beco a part of them. Breaking the glass can often provide a clearer view of the internal structure."
"I've seen the bottom-level ecology of the Gang, witnessed how those children survive, saw their masks. And now, I plan to uncover the secrets of the Gang's upper echelons. For this, I've co up with a good plan."
"Wait!" Suddenly, a voice interrupted Bruce. Harvey Dent sat across from Bruce, raising a glass of wine, and said, "I think you should reduce the comntary between your two segnts. Why not add so explanations of your ideology?"
"Because I'm not sure," Bruce paused and continued, "I wanted to engage in discussions related to Marxism, but I'm not certain if my professor would accept that part. After all, issues regarding class struggle are usually considered quite radical, and I feel my professor is more conservative."
"Why do you think that?" Harvey leaned back in his chair and asked, taking a sip of wine. Bruce recalled, "He hardly pays any attention to politics. His understanding of current affairs cos solely from newspapers and the radio. I've never heard him ntion elections, and he seems to have never voted."
"I think if I express so radical views, it might lower my grades."
Harvey nodded, saying, "Indeed, such people tend to lean right, and in the current situation, it's best not to touch upon those sensitive viewpoints. Be careful; the CIA might knock on your door in the middle of the night."
Bruce made a peculiar expression but continued, "Moving on, do you rember what I told you before? Jason successfully obtained the address of that suspicious figure?"
Harvey nodded, "Of course, you just ntioned it ten minutes ago. The poor kid got injured for it."
"The next day, the son of the old godfather, Evans Falcone, or rather, his alter ego, Alberto Falcone, found us."
"We went to Falcone Manor, and Alberto told us that at a banquet to be held in three days, he would officially take over the Falcone Family, becoming the new Godfather."
He raised an eyebrow and said, "So the old godfather has finally decided to step down?"
Bruce observed Harvey's expression and said, "You don't seem happy."
"That's because I can't be sure if the new Godfather will do better than his father. Under the old godfather's rule, Gotham, though not entirely safe, was at least stable. If this system collapses suddenly, it could lead to even greater chaos."
"I understand that," Bruce stroked his chin. "So, I talked to Alberto."
"Of course, I didn't include the details of the conversation in this article because I fear my overly flexible-thinking professor might have so bold opinions about the changes coming to Gotham."
Bruce skipped over that part and continued, "The point is, Jason shared the address with Alberto, and Alberto fulfilled his promise, allowing Jason to gain so recognition within the Gang. When Jason recomnded that I join the small Gang in the neighborhood, the Gang leader didn't refuse."
"So, how did you create a false identity to join the Gang?"
"I gave it a na, Match Malone."
"Match Malone? That na sounds quite strange," one of the Gang mbers stared at Bruce, but then shook his head, saying, "Since it's an order from the boss, you're going to stand guard at the nightclub next door tonight... Oh, wait, you're a newbie. Let think... Never mind, you'll go watch the scene at the casino."
"Kid, rember, in the casino, you don't need to know who's rich or poor, who has influence or not. You only need to rember one thing: once a deal is made, there's no turning back. Anyone who dares to renege gets a bullet. Understand?"
This Gang mber had clearly trained many newcors, using simple and straightforward language. Bruce nodded, indicating his complete understanding.
That evening, he went to the Gang's casino, which was not the glamorous type he had visited before but a dingy little establishnt filled with the smoky haze of cigarettes. Most of the gamblers here were mbers of other Gangs.
Bruce spent two days there without encountering any trouble. Most people followed the rules, and even when they lost money, they simply lanted and left, rarely causing any trouble.
Life in the Gang was quite dull. When there were custors, they watched them closely; when there weren't, they sat in a corner and smoked cigarettes, puffing away from morning till night, and then again from night till morning.
Bruce wanted to change his job, not because he felt he wasn't learning anything here, but because the cost of maintaining his disguise was too high. Besides having to smoke cigarettes, he had to inhale second-hand, third-hand, and fourth-hand smoke...
However, getting transferred from here wasn't that simple. He couldn't just go to the Gang leader and say, "I find this too boring; can you give a different job?" That would likely get him disqualified.
So, one day, Bruce beca soone he despised the most. He knocked out the Gang mber who watched the nightclub door, allowing him to go ho and recuperate, while creating a job position for himself.
Working as a nightclub security guard could be quite interesting. The people coming and going here had a significant class difference, so you needed a keen eye to know who to be tough with and who to flatter, who could enter, and who couldn't.
The reason Bruce hesitated at the bottom level for so long was because he needed to observe, observe the outward differences in appearance among the various levels of Gotham's Gangs to prepare for his plan.
After several days of work, Bruce had already observed many patterns here, especially in terms of clothing and appearance.
The street-level thugs were much like him, wearing sunglasses, jackets, boots, holding cigarettes in their mouths, guns in their hands, squatting on the streets.
They glanced left and right, and when soone approached, they'd load their magazines, making a loud "click" sound.
Slightly more advanced were the core mbers of the small Gangs, but their appearance was similar, just slightly more professional, as they had officially moved beyond the realm of street thugs, appearing more business-like.
Distinguishing these two groups mainly depended on their different attitudes. The forr liked to shift their gaze restlessly and often sneered, showing an expression that said, "If you dare ss with , you'll regret it."
The latter, on the other hand, because they had taken on so leadership roles, were often in a hurry. They would greet people, but before the other party could respond, they had already moved on, wearing a tired expression that was hard to hide.
The leaders of small Gangs also had distinct characteristics. They usually had so scars on their bodies because reaching this level definitely involved shedding blood. They had one or two suits, but they wouldn't wear them daily, and even if they did, it would appear relatively cheap.
Bruce couldn't determine the exact price of the suits, but because he had worn expensive suits for years, he could tell whether the suits on the opposite side were cheap or not. If they were, it ant the person was likely a small Gang leader.
Up to this point, distinguishing between them was relatively simple; you could tell just by looking. But beyond that, differentiating the big Mob bosses from the Twelve Families mbers and down to the leaders of East District's thirteen streets beca challenging.
From small mob bosses upwards and downwards to the Twelve Families mbers, the high-ranking mbers of the Gangs dressed almost the sa. They all wore dark suits, polished leather shoes that shone brightly, occasionally wore dark or tea-colored sunglasses, and held cigars.
When they arrived at the nightclub, they would often co in a black luxury car. The car would stop in front of the carpet, and the head of the bodyguard sitting in the front passenger seat would get out first, directing the other henchn to stand beside the carpet. The driver would be the last to get out, opening an umbrella first, facing the rear of the car, and then opening the car door.
The shoes would always be the first to co out, then, after standing on the ground, they would tap their right foot once, adjust their tie with their left hand, and take big strides forward. When they passed the nightclub's security, they wouldn't look sideways. The last bodyguard at the end would stay behind to check invitations and register identities.
From the leaders who commanded five or six small Gangs to the bosses of East District's thirteen streets, their attire, behavior, and deanor were almost identical, even their movents were uniform.
Bruce couldn't help but wonder if they had all received training sowhere. Even the rhythm of tapping their foot when they got out of the car was exactly the sa.
After standing guard at the door for a few days and getting to know his fellow guard, Bruce learned that every mob boss in Gotham, from top to bottom, imitated The Godfather in every way.
It was said that these were habits The Godfather had in his youth, and The Godfather had these habits just because it looked cool.
But this left Bruce a bit puzzled. What if so young genius figured out this pattern and used the sa set of moves to infiltrate? How would you distinguish them?
Bruce consulted his colleague on this question, and the colleague, who was missing two front teeth, gave a mocking smile and said, "You're really green, thinking about this little thing."
Bruce humbly sought advice and said a few flattering words. The colleague then explained:
"In Gotham, if you're not a mob boss, where would you get a car and bodyguards like that? Just like us, if we could get such a good car and such strong bodyguards, wouldn't we be mob bosses too?"
"In other words, if you have a car, a house, and people, what's the point of going in as a pretend mob boss? Why leave a good life to beco a killer, wielding a gun and going crazy?"
Bruce thought about it and realized that there was indeed a reason. If you already had the resources to impersonate a mob boss, then you were essentially a mob boss.
Of course, there might also be wealthy individuals impersonating mob bosses, but what reason would a wealthy person have to impersonate a mob boss? They were already so rich; why would they want to get involved in violence and struggle every day?
Living in a mansion, driving a luxury car, smoking cigars, and leading a life of luxury was much better, wasn't it?
Bruce nodded in agreent, feeling that this reasoning made a lot of sense. So, he turned his head and arranged for himself a common Gang's extended luxury car and an expensive suit.
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