Capítulo 13: Chapter 13: Forming a Comedy Troupe?
As everyone knows, before Batman's era, Gotham was literally a chaotic place. Various underground activities and black market trades were rampant, and gangs of all sizes spread like viruses in every street and alley.
David Patrick was someone who started from scratch in such chaotic times. He earned his first bucket of gold by selling marijuana during his school days and later continued focusing on campus sales even after he made it big.
As his business grew, so did the number of his underlings. They called themselves the "Cross Gang" and gradually became a force to be reckoned with. Gangs in the nearby neighborhoods had to show him some respect.
But in Gotham—no matter which area you're in—if you want to grow your business, sheer bravery and recklessness won't cut it. David wasn't extraordinarily capable, but he had some street smarts.
Though not in his gang's territory, he had heard about the newly opened HISHE café in Kingston. He didn't know the details but suspected that the owner might have some backing. Otherwise, no ordinary person could make the local gangs quietly withdraw from the community.
This was why, despite this being a minor scuffle usually handled by low-level thugs, he personally came out this time.
Seeing their boss, whom they rarely interacted with, the young troublemakers immediately panicked. They began to realize this situation might be serious.
"Hello, Mr. Shen." David, with a cigar in his mouth, greeted courteously, but his eyes gleamed with the ferocity of a beast in the wild jungle.
Shen You didn't acknowledge him, cutting straight to the point, "Who is 'Mad Elliott'?"
A moment of silence followed.
David stepped aside, revealing a young man with a dragon tattoo on his black leather jacket. All eyes turned to him.
This was obviously Elliott, though he didn't appear mad—just deathly pale and in obvious pain.
He was the direct superior of the young troublemakers, but in truth, he was just a low-level errand runner. Unlike the inexperienced newcomers under him, he was a seasoned rogue and knew some people in Gotham were untouchable.
The seemingly gentle young man before him was one of those people. He looked frail and scholarly, but anyone who had heard the rumors about the former local thugs who had their legs broken or got into mysterious accidents knew he wasn't to be trifled with.
Elliott was not the right person to speak in such situations.
Trembling, Elliott nervously stepped forward. A good buddy whispered a piece of advice, "Remember, the softer your voice, the stronger your presence. Real big shots speak softly."
Elliott nodded, taking note.
He then approached Shen You, trying to look imposing. His lips seemed to move, but no sound came out.
Shen You raised an eyebrow. "Buddy, did you leave your vocal cords at home?"
Elliott: "..."
Noticing David's increasingly displeased expression, Elliott realized this might be a life-or-death moment. If he didn't perform well, his boss might just shoot him dead. So, he tried to puff out his chest and put on a fierce look.
"Sit down," Shen You said calmly.
"Oh, okay."
Elliott sat in the chair, looking up at Shen You like a well-trained puppy.
It was only after he sat down that he realized, wait, why did I listen to him?
He had never met anyone like this young boss before.
Despite looking gentle and polite, his eyes seemed to hold something others didn't, making it impossible to meet his gaze. Every word and action seemed to carry an innate authority, making it instinctive not to defy him.
Elliott tried to stand up, but as soon as he moved his leg, he felt an overwhelming pressure, forcing him back into the chair.
With no courage to stand, he lowered his head and mumbled, "I just felt like sitting."
Shen You smiled without a word. The vast gap in their levels of existence aside, if his mental strength couldn't even intimidate a drug-addicted scumbag, then his over a thousand years of telekinesis training would have been in vain.
The troublemakers nearby were scared stiff.
Is this really our ruthless boss?
The one known for his quick temper and blade-swinging rampages from Crime Alley to Arkham?
Why is he acting like a whipped dog now?
"Let's talk about your underlings," Shen You said, getting to the point, and gestured for the leader of the troublemakers to come forward. "You, come here."
The young man, with a sullen face, walked over with his head down, not daring to defy him.
"He says he's one of your underlings. Is that correct?" Shen You asked.
Elliott glared at the young man and reluctantly admitted, "Yes."
"He harassed other customers in my shop and tried to hit someone. What do you think of that, Mr. Elliott?"
Elliott glanced at David behind him, whose expression was growing more severe. Nervously, Elliott knew that if he didn't handle this well, he might not make it back alive. So, he took a deep breath, summoning his courage.
He suddenly straightened up, puffing out his chest. "We've been in the game for years, never afraid of anything or anyone. As our boss always says, business is like a battlefield. In business, what matters is fairness!"
Pointing at the young troublemaker beside him, he continued, "So which arm did he use first? I'll chop it off right here as an apology. What do you think, Mr. Shen?"
Shen You: "?"
Young troublemaker: "?"
Even Shen You was taken aback by this unconventional negotiation tactic.
The young troublemaker's face turned ashen, on the verge of tears.
With a quivering voice, he said, "Boss, didn't you always say that the most important thing in this line of work is to be ruthless and imposing?"
Unexpectedly, Elliott slapped him hard across the face.
"Shut up, will you!?"
The young troublemaker didn't mind the slap, but his face turned even paler after hearing Elliott's words.
Hesitating for a moment, he timidly spoke up, "My mom... Uh, boss, this is really sudden. I might need to discuss this with my dad."
Elliott: "..."
Shen You couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Good grief, are you guys here to form a comedy troupe in my café?
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