Campaigning for Mayor

"Damn, it's so late. I'm heading back to the spring."

Allen raised his hand to check a non-existent watch on his wrist, then immediately leaped off the rooftop with his bicycle.

The members of the Bat-Family, watching his retreating figure echo between the tall buildings, fell into silence.

"Father, who is he?" Damian inquired.

With someone so powerful emerging in Gotham City, he was an unstable factor, and a contingency plan was necessary.

If that person were to fall into darkness one day, it would be a disaster for them.

"His story is rather unbelievable..."

Bruce looked up at the full moon, recalling his experience in Silent Hill.

"I'm back."

Allen rode his bicycle back to Arkham Asylum and shouted towards the guard tower at the iron gate.

Soon, the iron gate opened, and a team of guards escorted Director Quincy out.

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

"Please choose your words carefully. I was fighting crime."

Allen didn't forget to hand Director Quincy a leftover sandwich, saying, "Here's a late-night snack for you. I'm going to wash up and sleep."

Upon entering the asylum, Allen, familiar with the layout, headed straight for his single room, took out clean patient clothes, and went to the shower room, acting as if he were home.

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

Director Quincy glared at his subordinate who made the suggestion and said irritably, "Don't get any funny ideas. Allen has secrets hidden within him."

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

"Just let him be happy."

Director Quincy had already received the latest orders from Fury and Amanda. For Allen, he was only to observe.

If he made any rash decisions and caused trouble, given the current operating style of The Hand and S.H.I.E.L.D., he might find himself discreetly and honorably retired.

"Lock up the bicycle first."

However, Director Quincy was still bothered by Allen stealing his bicycle and couldn't help but remind them, "Use the thickest chain."

Early morning, the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, heralding a new day.

"My bicycle!"

Director Quincy's furious roar echoed throughout Arkham Asylum.

He had intended to go home, shower, and change clothes, but when he reached the parking spot, the sturdy lock only secured one tire, and the entire bicycle had vanished.

He immediately checked Allen's room. As expected, there was no sign of him.

At this moment, on the road leading to Gotham City.

Allen rode his bicycle leisurely, saying, "Who says cycling needs two wheels? One wheel won't stop me. Ghost Rider, engage!"

In a warehouse at the Gotham docks.

Penguin Cobblepot and Riddler Edward, that perfect pair, gathered together as soon as they regained their freedom, summoning their former Penguin's Gang subordinates for a meeting.

Penguin, once a man who was King of Gotham, still had considerable influence, easily rallying a group of ambitious unemployed individuals.

Unfortunately, Joker's Gang had been gaining a lot of traction recently, suppressing all underground factions, so Edward suggested lying low.

They were unaware that their entire plan was being overheard by Nightwing, who was lurking on the rooftop.

Recently, Gotham City had been outwardly calm, but inwardly turbulent. Bruce was overwhelmed and unable to handle everything, so he had asked Nightwing and others to help.

"Several of Joker's Gang's strongholds are within our grasp. If we launch a surprise attack and intercept their traded goods, it will cut off Joker's Gang's source of funds. At the same time, we can secretly contact the buyers and take their place."

Riddler wrote several locations on a blackboard and spoke eloquently to his subordinates.

Within the Penguin's Gang, Edward served as the chief strategist, responsible for planning and holding a second-in-command position.

Penguin listened and nodded frequently, his admiration undisguised.

Rumor had it that their relationship was ambiguous, a friendship based on zero-sum game dynamics.

Bang!

The warehouse door burst open, revealing a human silhouette.

Amidst the rising dust, the newcomer executed a perfect tail-whip maneuver.

"Hands up! Men on the left, women on the right. Those who are neither stand in the middle."

Allen parked his unicycle and, with hands on his hips, added, "You've all been surrounded by me."

Before entering the city, Allen had specifically gone to Wayne Manor.

Coincidentally, Bruce was out. He had specifically asked the butler, Alfred, to relay a message for him to go to the docks and assist Nightwing.

After a quick look around outside, Allen couldn't find anyone, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Allen!"

Edward's fighting spirit was ignited the moment he saw Allen. He had been dwelling on his loss in the last riddle competition and finally had a chance for revenge today.

"Edward, you recognize my new Whip Woman Hero look. As expected, you're the enemy who knows me best."

Allen walked leisurely in front of the assembled criminals.

The opponents had already reached for their weapons. With just one command from Penguin, they would open fire and riddle him with bullets.

Nightwing, hiding on the rooftop, was ready to detonate micro-bombs to support his ally.

After all, Bruce had admitted last night that he was a member of the Bat-Family.

"Allen, before I kill you, I want to have one more battle of wits with you," Edward said solemnly.

In Gotham City, the Riddler only saw two people whose intelligence surpassed his own.

The first was Batman, who had captured him and thrown him into Arkham.

The second was Allen, who had repeatedly won the riddle competitions.

Edward felt deeply ashamed if he were to kill his opponent through brute force, considering it a cowardly tactic when his proud intellect couldn't overcome them.

"Edward, I accept your challenge."

Allen said, stroking his chin, "But I'll be the one asking the questions."

"No problem."

Edward's expression was more serious than ever. Even Penguin could feel his partner's tension.

Allen looked at the blackboard, and a flash of inspiration struck him. "Are you planning a double-cross? My question is: how to become the King of Gotham."

What was the necessary connection between a double-cross and becoming the King of Gotham?

Not only were the criminals confused, but Nightwing, hiding on the rooftop, was also filled with questions.

Edward grinned.

This was a question he had replayed in his mind countless times.

Especially since he planned to take action during this Gotham chaos to make a triumphant return to his peak.

"Old rules, the loser speaks first."

Edward spoke first, seizing the initiative.

"You speak, I'll listen."

Allen, like a serious elementary school student, quietly waited for the Riddler's plan.

Everyone perked up their ears, eager to hear about a grand opportunity to control a city.

Cough cough...

Edward cleared his throat and said, "In the current situation, our main opponent is Joker's Gang. We'll launch a surprise attack on their warehouse to cut off their funding chain, acquire buyer channels to restore Penguin's Gang's finances, then control Gotham's underworld through strikes, buyouts, and alliances. We'll establish a behemoth that the wealthy will fear, coercing their support. Then, Cobblepot will run for mayor, hiring assassins during the campaign to eliminate his competitors."

Everyone nodded frequently upon hearing this. It truly fit the criminal mindset.

Nightwing, upon hearing this, couldn't wait to jump out and arrest all the criminals.

If Penguin were to successfully become mayor, countless people would die in the process.

"Boshite."

Allen scornfully mocked, "What a foolish plan. No wonder Batsy could throw you into prison time and time again."

"Your turn."

Although Edward was angered by the mockery, he wanted to hear the other party's plan, hoping to gain a legitimate victory.

"You little brats, let this crime master, Lun Ai, teach you what it means to be the baddest of the bad."

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

"Foot bath?"

We're a gang, not selling drugs, opening a foot bath shop would make our rivals laugh their heads off.

"That's right, we'll use foot baths to generate funds."

Allen dropped the chalk and stood with his hands behind his back, feigning profundity. "Everything starts with money. Money makes the world go 'round."

What 'world' and 'round'?

We've been out here long enough to have basic elementary education. How much money can a foot bath shop make, let alone sustain a gang?

"Opening a regular foot bath won't earn enough money, but if we target the elite clientele, with membership cards starting at ten thousand US dollars, we can filter out the working class..."

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

A burly man who looked like he gave foot massages offered a counter-argument.

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

"The technician fee is ten dollars..."

At this point, Edward's lips couldn't help but curl upwards.

This time, it was a sure thing. With a ten-dollar expenditure, the shop would be out of business within a week.

"The key is the theme service. You can choose the technician's outfit and even the service scenario."

Allen paused, then described, "Imagine this: in a police station setting, Batman kneels to serve you fruit, Batgirl massages your shoulders, and Catwoman massages your feet. Do you think it's worth it?"

At this, many criminals' eyes lit up.

It seemed promising.

"Of course, the hero theme is just one aspect. Many elites must be unhappy with their jobs. They can have custom scenarios. For example, a female boss providing kneeling service, or you can hire someone to impersonate a male boss for the customer to insult and vent their frustrations on, with the technician dressed as a secretary massaging them. It's like a light rail, subway, teacher, or in a car – whatever the customer wants, we can satisfy."

At this moment, a hint of panic appeared on Edward's face as he desperately searched for a fatal flaw to overturn the proposal.

The criminals listened intently, as if a new world had opened up to them.

Even the Penguin was considering trying it out.

Nightwing couldn't help but think about calling Red Hood to change into civilian clothes and experience the themed service together. He quickly dismissed the idea, though; the membership card cost ten thousand dollars, which he simply couldn't afford.

"I've got it."

Edward excitedly pointed out, "What happens if we get reported or investigated by law enforcement?"

Allen's mockery grew, as if he were waiting for the Riddler to ask.

"Do the themes require actors? We definitely can't afford actors in Gotham City. Let's recruit a bunch from the homeless shelters, give them haircuts, wash them up, put them in suits, and have them bow with a perfect British accent, saying, 'Sir, it is an honor to serve you.' Doesn't everyone have a dream of being British nobility?"

This move had considerable destructive power. Elites valued social status and identity, and their inner satisfaction would be greatly fulfilled, making them willingly open their wallets.

"Twenty-five dollars an hour for an actor is a high-paying job that people would fight tooth and nail for. Once the business grows, we'll not only create tax revenue but also solve Gotham City's homeless problem. If they dare to shut us down, hundreds of homeless people will gather at City Hall the next day to protest, and we'll arrange for reporters to cover it, controlling public opinion. Let's see who dares to be blind and disrupt our legitimate business."

"With public opinion on our side, we'll announce to the media that 20% of our revenue will be invested in charity, establishing a positive image. Whether you're on the right side of the law or not, don't even think about hindering our growth period. We'll open branches madly, one becomes two, two become four, four become sixteen... Once we reach a certain scale, we'll register a company, label it in the health and wellness sector, list it as a medical stock, and make a killing by cutting the leeks."

"Once the first phase is complete, we'll have billions of dollars. We'll invest in the Gotham Police Department, providing armored vehicles, helicopters, and bulletproof vests, all according to Marine Corps standards. The main focus will be on eradicating crime and restoring peace and order to Gotham."

"We'll establish the Gotham Foundation to provide free assistance to Gotham citizens who can't afford medical treatment. This move will win public favor and lay the foundation for entering politics."

"We'll frame Batman for bloody enforcement and portray ourselves as victims. Heh heh, we'll run for mayor as victims, and the public will surely support us with both hands and feet."

Allen spread his five fingers and slowly clenched them, grinning sinisterly, "With all these arrangements supporting the final step, we will ascend to become the King of Gotham."

Edward slumped back in his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. The plan was flawless; he couldn't find a way to break it.

If it could be executed smoothly, without firing a single shot, he would unify Gotham City and become the uncrowned king.

The criminals looked at Allen, then at the Penguin, contemplating whether to switch leaders. Everyone thought the other person's plan was more reliable.

Nightwing, who was eavesdropping, felt his heart pounding.

Big brother, whose side are you on?

Clap clap clap...

At this moment, the Penguin started applauding, clearly impressed by the plan.

However, it had now become their plan.

"Edward, your QQ pet is very special. It even knows how to clap as a talent," Allen said, curiously examining the Penguin.

"I'm not a pet. I am Cobblepot, the former King of Gotham."

The Penguin menacingly signaled his subordinates, but they ignored him, seemingly believing that siding with Allen offered a brighter future.

Bang!

Suddenly, a hole appeared in the roof.

Nightwing dropped from the sky, his body maneuvering in mid-air to land beside Allen. He said urgently, "Batsy, something big has happened."

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

"It's me, Nightwing. We met last night."

Nightwing reminded him helplessly.

"Oh wow..."

Allen said blankly, "I don't remember."

You don't remember, what are you saying 'oh wow' for? What the hell is 'oh wow'?

"That's not important. Batman is missing. He hasn't been heard from since last night. You need to help find him," Nightwing said gravely.

Bruce's equipment had tracking and communication devices.

His prolonged absence made them take it seriously.

"If Batsy is in trouble, why didn't you say so sooner?"

Allen mounted his unicycle and said, "Let's go back to the base for a meeting."

Bang!

With that, Allen rode his unicycle straight into the main door, creating a human-shaped silhouette.

Meanwhile, Nightwing retreated from the rooftop using his grappling hook.

Inside the warehouse, everyone was still shaken. Their hideout had been discovered, and discussing anything further was pointless.

Bang!

Before anyone could calm down, Allen returned on his bike.

At this moment, three figures had already broken through the main gate.

"I forgot to mention something."

Allen rode up to Edward, patted his shoulder, and instructed, "Gotham is in your hands. When you eventually become the uncrowned king, I'll teach you my plan for running for president."

Bang!

The door, unable to withstand the assault, was once again rammed by Allen and shattered into pieces.