Chapter 810

Schiller shook his head and said: "Remember, if you see me outside school, don't speak to me… Oh, by the way, what's up with the Tailhook Gang? Can you make it to class tomorrow on time?"

Jason shook his head and said: "Nothing major. Heard one of the Twelve Families is looking for someone—you know, they rely entirely on Gotham's kids to find people. Tailhook wants to take the job; it'll bring us plenty of benefits and help us connect with more big gangsters, making life easier going forward…"

Schiller nodded and said: "Alright. Though I think you should view your career choice with more caution, if you feel it's your duty to do this, then go ahead."

Jason, rarely smiling, said: "Thanks, Professor. No one's ever said that to me before. They just assume I was born to switch gangs…"

Schiller stood up and walked Jason to the door. He said: "There are many people in this world who are forced into things they can't choose. They'll never love their current work. But since things are already this way, why not think about what you can learn from this job you don't love?"

"Learn what?" Jason scratched his head. "What's there to learn from being a gangster?"

Schiller patted Jason's shoulder. "Everything has something to teach. You're in the perfect environment right now to slowly figure out the ways of it. Some people pay tuition just to learn."

Jason nodded, half-understanding, then left school.

He didn't let Schiller walk him back—that would make every kid on the street know he was dealing with a professor, and that would lower his standing.

Going to school was fine; after all, learning skills meant he could teach others later. But if you got too close to the upper class, caught their eye, or got adopted, you could never be a kid king again.

Every kid here knew: if a rich person adopted you, you were gone from this world forever, and you'd never again be responsible for the gang's children. For any kid king, that was a fatal blow.

So Jason couldn't let these kids know he was close to a university professor. Otherwise, the gang would panic, thinking he might leave anytime—and rival gangs would spread rumors to ruin his reputation.

Tailhook Gang was the second-largest kid gang on this street. Jason wasn't the first boss; the gang wasn't his creation. He just grew up nearby, got pulled in by older kids, and slowly rose to the top.

Jason felt he bore an inescapable responsibility toward these kids. After all, when he was little, older kids had gone out to work and fed him.

In Gotham, orphans had two ways to grow up.

The first was being adopted by an adult gang member. After adoption, you inherited your adopter's trade and joined their gang.

Since gangs lacked fresh blood, they encouraged members to adopt children. That's why Selina said if you could wait safely in a house until someone found you, you'd survive.

Adult gangs raised kids roughly—relying entirely on the child's own physical strength, with no education. They'd feed you, then when you grew up, make you a thug. Occasionally, one with talent might climb higher—that was just luck for the adopter.

The other way was being picked up by older kids in a kid gang, running errands, making your own way, raising yourself.

The advantage here was that older kids in kid gangs cared more—especially older girls, who treated the kids they picked up like younger brothers, always taking them along. Jason was raised this way.

The entire kid gang operated like a big family: siblings had to look out for each other; anyone in trouble got help.

But growing up in a kid gang had one downside: you often went from one meal to starvation.

Growing up in adult gangs was rougher—you might get sick with no one to care for you, left to rely on your own strength. Gang members mostly just let kids run wild on the streets. But at least you ate.

Most stable gangs didn't lack food. Larger, better-organized gangs even gave subsidies to members with kids, to prevent them from stunting and becoming unfit for thuggery.

But kid gangs had few sources of income. Most just ran errands for big gangs. Before the snowstorm, most kid gang income was wildly unstable—if you didn't earn anything one day, everyone went hungry.

In short: raised by gangs, you grew physically strong but lacked education and socialization, prone to extreme personalities.

Raised in kid gangs, you were mentally richer, better socialized, more stable in character, with stronger collective awareness and cooperation skills—but nutrition suffered, so you weren't as physically strong.

Many might think physical strength mattered most in Gotham—but it didn't.

A sharp mind and steady temperament made you stand out among gang members, caught the attention of the upper echelon, earned you a role in decision-making, and eventually a clerical position. After all, gangs couldn't survive on thugs alone—they needed clerks too.

Gang-raised kids had a high floor but a low ceiling. Kid-gang-raised kids had a low floor but a high ceiling.

Many non-family high-ranking members of the Twelve Families came from kid gangs. Once they rose, many ordered their subordinates not to harass kid-gang children. That's why kid gangs, with little resistance, still existed in Gotham's alleys.

The leader of a kid gang would set up a main base—usually a cellar or basement—and establish temporary outposts at either end of the street using shipping containers and oil drums. The more capable ones even got a few guns, handing them to the oldest, strongest kids in the gang.

But according to Gotham's rules, kid gangs couldn't fight each other. If anyone fired a gun, they were done for.

Gunfire would alert the adult gang controlling this street. If they intervened, no kid would escape. So most times, they just held guns and threatened each other—no one dared pull the trigger.

Jason's Tailhook Gang occupied the cellar with the best terrain on this street.

The entrance was at the end of an alley, hidden and tight. Inside, the space was large: besides storage rooms, it connected to a basement. Above the basement wasn't a noisy nightclub or bar, but a gang warehouse used to store supplies.

That gang let Tailhook's kids keep watch over the warehouse. In return, they paid a small fee—Tailhook's basic income, ensuring even the youngest members were fed when no jobs came in. Jason had fought for this.

Jason opened the cellar entrance and crept down quietly. But as soon as his feet touched the ground, he heard a familiar voice. Little Slick came up and hugged him. "Why are you back so late?"

"Oh, Little Slick? Why aren't you at school? Why come back today?" Jason turned, surprised.

"Well, a few days ago, Six-Finger Boss got a broken truck. She wanted me to come back and see if we could fix it—if we could, we'd hit the jackpot."

Jason's eyes widened. "A truck?! Holy hell! Where'd she get it? Won't some gang come after her?"

"Who knows? But Boss said the truck was abandoned because it was too wrecked. Still, she took a look and thought it could be salvaged, so she called me back." With that, Little Slick slung his tool bag over his shoulder and climbed the ladder. Jason followed.

They turned down an alley to the back of the warehouse. A vacant lot, few people around. There sat the truck Little Slick mentioned.

Externally, the vehicle was a wreck. But Jason, having studied auto repair for two days at school, could tell it still had potential.

Watching Little Slick unpack his tools and get to work, Jason waved. "Go ahead. I'll go find Boss—I've got more questions for her."

Jason circled back behind the warehouse and walked down the street until he reached a narrow alley, where an older girl was directing several children.

That was Six-Finger Boss—the girl with six fingers, the oldest kid in the gang. Her boyfriend was a full member of the gang on the next street. In a few years, they'd marry and leave the kid gang for good.

Jason found her and said: "Hey, Boss. I'm back. You sent someone to school to tell me the big boss is looking for someone—can we take this job?"

Six-Finger turned, flicking her hair back. "You're back? Right. The old man on Front Street stopped me today. Said the big boss wants you. You weren't there, so he told me to pass the word: the upper level's looking for someone. Seems urgent. The pay's high. Whoever finds him will get rich."

"Did he say who they're looking for?" Jason asked.

Six-Finger shook her head. "You'll have to go see for yourself. Heard he's a stranger from out of town. Should be easy to find."

Hearing this, Jason went to the adult gang's headquarters. He'd been here often, knew most faces. He greeted the guards and passing gang members, then hurried inside. But before he reached the door, he heard the gang boss speaking to others.

"... ll of you, snap to it! Doesn't matter if he's a stranger or a fly or a worm—you catch him!"

"Do you know what he did? He broke into Falcone Family's most important warehouse district. You know where that is? The new secondary hub for their cold-chain logistics—just opened!"

"The very first shipment arrived that day, and this idiot broke in. Who believes it wasn't intentional?"

"And I heard the big boss is furious because this guy pissed off Falcone's Young Master…"

"Anyway, this job's simple, the payoff's huge. Whoever pulls it off will earn major face. You brats are better off spending time on this than wandering the streets. If you get taken to the Falcone estate, you're set."

"Who's outside?... ason? You're late! Come in! I was just about to call for you. On my turf, only Little Jason lets me borrow some glory—you're a college student now…"

The gang boss called Jason inside. Jason had always gotten along well with him. The boss had foresight—he saw Jason was different, and liked giving him brain-heavy tasks.

After leaving the room, Jason got a name and a few physical descriptions. But the description barely mattered. All he needed to know was the man was an outsider. Outsiders and Gotham locals had vastly different vibes—like a sheep wandering into a wolf pack. Easy to spot.

Back at Tailhook's base, Jason gave orders and launched an unprecedented mobilization. This job was simple and lucrative—every kid, big or small, could join. Do well, and you paved your own future.

After finishing his instructions, night was deep. Jason lay on his bed in the base, feeling unparalleled peace. This was his home, where he'd grown up. Only here could he sleep soundly.

But that peace didn't last long. Less than three hours later, Jason woke to strange noises. He opened his eyes to see a figure standing at his bedside.

Jason was about to scream when a hand clamped over his mouth. He gasped, eyes wide with terror.

In the dim light, he saw the intruder wore a red hood.