A Plan to Run for Mayor

"Shit, it's so late. I'm heading back to base."

Allen raised his hand to glance at the watch that didn't exist on his wrist, then immediately hoisted his bicycle and leaped off the rooftop.

The Bat-Family watched his figure swing between the high-rises and fell into silence.

"Father, who is he?" Damian asked.

Such a powerful person appearing in Gotham City was ultimately an unstable factor. They had to prepare a contingency plan in advance.

If he ever fell into darkness, it would be a disaster for them.

"His story is rather unbelievable..."

Bruce looked up at the full moon, recalling what had happened in Silent Hill.

"I'm back."

Allen rode his bike back to Arkham Asylum and shouted toward the watchtower outside the iron gates.

Before long, the gates opened, and a group of guards escorted Director Quincy out.

"Allen, did you have fun? Don't sneak out again next time," Director Quincy said pleasantly.

"Watch your wording. I was fighting crime."

Allen stuffed a leftover sandwich into Director Quincy's hands and said, "This is for your late-night snack. I'm going to wash up and sleep."

The moment he entered the asylum, Allen headed familiarly toward his private room, dug out a clean patient uniform, and went to the showers as though he were coming home.

"Director, should we lock him in the isolation ward?"

Director Quincy glared at the deputy who had made the suggestion and said irritably, "Don't get any bad ideas. Allen is hiding secrets."

"He's just a mental patient," the deputy said unwillingly.

"Let him be happy."

Director Quincy had already received the latest orders from Fury and Amanda. They were only to keep an eye on Allen.

If he took matters into his own hands and caused trouble, given The Hand and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current style of operation, he might be quietly and neatly dealt with before he knew it.

"Lock up the bicycle first."

However, Director Quincy still held a grudge over Allen stealing his bike. He reminded them, "Use the thickest chain you have."

At dawn, the first ray of sunlight shone through the window, welcoming a brand-new day.

"My bicycle!"

Director Quincy's furious roar echoed throughout Arkham Asylum.

He had planned to go home, take a shower, and change clothes. But when he reached where the vehicle had been parked, he found that the heavy lock was only securing one wheel. The entire bike frame had vanished.

They checked Allen's room immediately. Unsurprisingly, he was gone too.

At that moment, on the highway leading to Gotham City.

Allen rode his bicycle leisurely and said, "Who says a bike needs two wheels? One wheel can't stop me either. Ghost Rider, move out."

Inside a warehouse at Gotham Harbor.

Penguin Cobblepot and Riddler Edward, the perfect duo, had gathered together after regaining their freedom and summoned their former Penguin's Gang subordinates for a meeting.

Penguin, once a man who had nearly become Gotham's king, still had considerable influence. He easily pulled together a group of ambitious unemployed men.

Unfortunately, Joker's Gang had been in the spotlight recently, sweeping through the underground gangs and leaving them unable to raise their heads. Edward therefore suggested avoiding their edge for the time being.

They did not know that their entire plan had fallen into the ears of Nightwing, who was lurking on the roof.

Gotham City had seemed calm on the surface lately, but undercurrents were surging beneath it. Bruce had been running himself ragged and could not handle everything, so he had called Nightwing and the others back to help.

"Several Joker's Gang hideouts are already under our control. As long as we launch surprise attacks and seize the goods being traded, we can cut off Joker's Gang's source of funds. At the same time, we can secretly contact the buyers and replace them."

Riddler wrote several locations on a blackboard and spoke grandly to the assembled subordinates.

Within Penguin's Gang, Edward served as the strategist, specializing in schemes and advice. He held the position of second-in-command.

Penguin listened from the side, nodding repeatedly. The admiration in his eyes was undisguised.

Rumor had it that their private relationship was unclear, a friendship forged in the game between zero and one.

Bang!

The warehouse doors were smashed into the outline of a human body.

Amid the rising dust, the newcomer performed a spot turn.

"Hands up! Men stand on the left, women stand on the right, and anyone who's neither stands in the middle."

After parking his unicycle, Allen put his hands on his hips and added, "You have all been surrounded by me alone."

Before entering the city, Allen had made a special trip to Wayne Manor.

Unfortunately, Bruce had gone out. He had specifically asked Alfred to tell Allen to head to the docks and assist Nightwing.

After wandering around outside without finding anyone, Allen simply decided to act on his own.

"Allen!"

The moment Edward saw Allen, his fighting spirit surged. He had never gotten over losing the previous riddle contest. Today, he finally had a chance for revenge.

"Edward, you recognized my new Whip Woman Hero look. You really are the enemy who understands me best."

Allen strolled calmly in front of the criminals.

Everyone on the other side had already reached for their weapons. At a single command from Penguin, they would immediately open fire and turn him into a sieve.

Nightwing, hiding on the roof, was ready to detonate miniature bombs at any time to support his ally.

After all, Bruce had acknowledged Allen as a member of the Bat-Family last night.

"Allen, before I kill you, I want another contest of intellect with you," Edward said solemnly.

In Gotham City, Riddler believed there were only two people more intelligent than himself.

The first was Batman, who had captured him and locked him in Arkham Asylum.

The second was Allen, who had repeatedly defeated him in riddle contests.

If he killed his opponent with force, Edward would feel deeply ashamed. It would mean that he could not defeat him on the level of intelligence he prided himself on and had resorted to despicable methods instead.

"Edward, I accept."

Rubbing his chin, Allen said, "But I get to set the question."

"No problem."

Edward's expression was more solemn than ever. Even Penguin could sense his partner's nervousness.

Allen glanced at the blackboard, and inspiration struck. "You're planning to rob criminals. My question is how to become Gotham's king."

What necessary connection was there between robbing criminals and becoming Gotham's king?

The criminals were not the only ones deeply confused.

Even Nightwing, hiding on the roof, had a head full of question marks.

Edward grinned.

He had replayed that very question in his mind countless times.

Especially during this chaos in Gotham, he intended to take action and return to the peak in one stroke.

"The usual rules. The loser speaks first."

Edward spoke first, trying to seize the initiative.

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

Allen sat there like a serious elementary school student, quietly waiting for Riddler's plan.

Everyone pricked up their ears, wanting to hear this grand opportunity to control an entire city.

Cough, cough...

Edward cleared his throat and said, "The current situation means our main opponent is Joker's Gang. We raid their warehouses, cut off their funding chain, and take over their buyer channels to restore Penguin's Gang's strength. Then, through suppression, bribery, and recruitment, we control Gotham's underworld and build a massive force that the rich fear. We coerce them into supporting us, then Cobblepot runs for mayor. During the election, we hire assassins to eliminate the competition."

The crowd nodded repeatedly after hearing it. It truly fit the mindset of criminals.

Nightwing wanted nothing more than to appear immediately and arrest them all.

If Penguin successfully became mayor, who knew how many people would die along the way?

"Boshite."

Allen scoffed. "What an incredibly stupid plan. No wonder Batsy keeps throwing you into prison."

"Your turn."

Although Edward was furious at the mockery, he wanted to hear Allen's plan and hoped to win fair and square.

"You little nobodies, this criminal mastermind, Lun Ai, will teach you what it means to be the worst among villains."

As he spoke, Allen wiped the writing from the blackboard and wrote a single word.

"Foot baths?"

We're gangsters. If we don't sell flour and open a foot bath parlor instead, the other gangs will laugh their teeth out.

"That's right. We open foot bath parlors to raise capital."

Allen tossed away the chalk, clasped his hands behind his back, and put on a profound expression. "Everything starts with money. Money makes the mare go."

What was that supposed to mean?

We came up through the streets, but we still received basic elementary education. How much money could a foot bath parlor make, let alone enough to keep a gang running?

"An ordinary foot bath parlor can't make enough money, but if we target elite customers, membership cards start at ten thousand dollars. That filters out the working class..."

"There's a flaw. The elite aren't interested in foot baths. A bar would be more appealing."

One of the foot-washing brutes raised an objection.

Allen turned his head slightly. "Of course I considered that."

"The technician fee is ten dollars..."

At that point, Edward's lips curled upward involuntarily.

This time, he had it in the bag. At ten dollars per customer, the place would go bankrupt within a week.

"The key is themed service. Customers can choose the technicians' outfits, and they can also choose the setting for the service."

Allen paused, then described it. "Imagine this: you're in a police station. Batman kneels before you and serves you a fruit platter, Batgirl massages your shoulders, and Batgirl massages your feet. Do you think it's worth the money?"

At that moment, the eyes of quite a few criminals lit up.

It actually seemed promising.

"Of course, the hero theme is only one option. Many elites are surely unhappy at work, so we can offer customized scenarios. For example, a female boss kneeling to serve them. We can find someone to play a male boss and let customers curse at him to vent their resentment, while a technician in a secretary outfit massages them nearby. Light rail, subway, teacher, car—whatever customers want, we can provide."

A trace of panic appeared on Edward's face as he desperately searched for a fatal flaw that could overturn the plan.

The criminals listened with great interest, as though a door to a new world had opened before them.

Even Penguin was considering whether he should try it.

Nightwing could not help imagining calling Red Hood over, changing into civilian clothes, and trying the themed service together. On second thought, he gave up. The membership card cost ten thousand dollars, and he really could not afford it.

"I've got it."

Edward pointed out excitedly, "What if someone reports us or files a complaint? What if law enforcement cracks down on us? How do we respond?"

Allen's mockery deepened, as if he had been waiting for Riddler to ask.

"Does a theme require actors? You definitely can't afford actors in Gotham City, so recruit a batch from places where homeless people gather. Give them haircuts, wash their faces, put them in suits, make them bow, and have them speak in an authentic British accent: 'Sir, it is my honor to serve you.' Who doesn't dream of being a British noble?"

That move was quite lethal. What elites wanted was social status and a sense of identity. Once their inner needs were greatly satisfied, they would naturally be willing to pay.

"Twenty-five dollars an hour for an actor is a high-paying job people will fight over. Once the business grows, we won't just generate tax revenue—we'll solve Gotham City's homeless problem too. If anyone dares shut down our shops, hundreds of homeless people will gather outside City Hall to protest the next day. At the same time, arrange for reporters to cover it and control public opinion. Let's see who dares ruin our legitimate business."

"Under the pressure of public opinion, we announce to the media that twenty percent of revenue goes to charity, establishing a positive image. Whether you're on the legal side or the criminal side, don't even think about interrupting our growth phase. We open branches like crazy—one becomes two, two become four, four become sixteen... Once we reach a certain scale, we register a company, label it as being in health and wellness, list it as a medical stock, and fleece the market hard."

"Once the first phase is complete, we'll have at least a billion dollars in hand. We invest in the Gotham Police Department: armored vehicles, helicopters, body armor, all of it. We outfit them according to Marine Corps standards, focused on wiping out evil and restoring peace to Gotham."

"We establish the Gotham Fund to provide free aid to Gotham citizens who cannot afford medical treatment. That wins over the people and lays the foundation for entering politics."

"Then we casually frame Batman for bloody law enforcement and portray ourselves as victims. Heh heh heh, we run for mayor as victims, and the public will definitely support us with both hands and feet."

Allen spread his fingers, then slowly clenched them as he grinned viciously. "All those arrangements support the final step: ascending as Gotham's king."

Edward slumped into a chair, sweat beading on his forehead. The plan was flawless. He could find no way to break it.

If it could truly be carried out smoothly, they could unify Gotham City and become uncrowned kings without firing a single bullet.

The criminals looked at Allen, then at Penguin, silently calculating whether they should switch bosses. No matter how they looked at it, the other man's plan seemed more reliable.

Nightwing's heart pounded wildly as he listened in.

Bro, whose side are you even on?

Clap, clap, clap...

At that moment, Penguin began applauding. Clearly, he admired the plan.

But now, it was their plan.

"Edward, your QQ pet is pretty special. It even knows how to clap," Allen said, curiously examining Penguin.

"I'm not a pet. I am Cobblepot, once the king of Gotham."

Penguin gave his subordinates a vicious look, but they ignored him completely. It seemed following Allen had a brighter future.

Bang!

Suddenly, a hole exploded through the roof.

Nightwing dropped from above, twisting through the air before landing beside Allen. His voice was urgent. "Bat-Man, something big happened."

Allen leaned back in surprise and asked, "Bro, who are you?"

"Me, Nightwing. We met last night."

Nightwing reminded him helplessly.

"Ohhh..."

Allen said blankly, "Can't remember."

You fucking can't remember, so why are you going 'ohhh'? Oh your mother's head.

"That isn't important. Batman has gone missing. We haven't been able to contact him since midnight last night. We need your help finding him," Nightwing said gravely.

Bruce's equipment had tracking and communication devices.

They had to take his prolonged loss of contact seriously.

"Batsy is in trouble, and you didn't say so earlier."

Allen mounted his unicycle and said, "Back to base first. We need a meeting."

Bang!

With that, Allen rode straight into the door, smashing out another human-shaped outline.

Meanwhile, Nightwing used his grappling gun to retreat from the rooftop.

Everyone in the warehouse was still shaken. Their hideout had been under surveillance all along, so what the hell had they been negotiating for?

Bang!

Before they could calm down, Allen rode his bike back.

By then, three outlines had already been smashed into the gate.

"Forgot to mention something."

Allen rode up beside Edward, patted him on the shoulder, and instructed, "Gotham is yours. Once you become its uncrowned king, I'll teach you how to run for president."

Bang!

The battered gate could take no more. Under another impact from Allen, it resolutely shattered into pieces.