Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 95 For Whom the Bell Tolls
"In Gotham, this is the only way for ordinary people to have the opportunity to become big shots. Sooner or later, we will no longer be unknown people. We will become famous all over the world - the Irish Gang, Mickey, Jimmy, Kevin, Willy, and Donny."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

"My father loved me very much, but he never let me touch the world he lived in. I was always thousands of miles away from him. - Alberto Falcone."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

"My grandmother was eighty years old, and she and I couldn't pay the property taxes, so the house was foreclosed and she died; so I joined the Maroney family, and I had to make a lot of money - Piven Quick."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

Hearing the familiar name, someone in the crowd finally couldn't help it.

"You son of a bitch, how do you know Quick—"

However, his companion next to him reached out and stopped him.

"Carlo, don't be impulsive." The companion shook his head gently at him: "Don't interrupt him."

"When I was doing this business, I didn't think too much about it. I just wanted my wife and daughter to have more food. I didn't dare show that I was hungry in front of them. - Tony Brown."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

"My mom is 40 years old and she has two jobs, but she's still selling blood. I don't want her to have to pay off her student loans like this." - Mary Smith

"Died in a gang fight."

"I used to be a respectable man, a graduate of a prestigious university with a bright future. If I hadn't gotten sick and been hospitalized, and my health insurance company hadn't reneged on its promise, I wouldn't have ended up joining the gang in Gotham to pay off my debts. - Landon Duke."

"Died in a gang fight."

"I was eating one meal a day most of the time, and then one day a friend told me that I could have enough food if I joined Maroni and Maroni's Gang. He wasn't kidding, I had the best pizza I've ever had in my life, and I could even eat it three times a day - Beckham Wilson."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

"I don't know what I should do, but I was born in Gotham, and there doesn't seem to be anything else I can do besides this - Camilla Martin."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

"I was born with a love for killing people with guns, and I'm pretty good at it. Maybe one day, I can kill the parents who abandoned me - Sir Thomas."

"Died from a gunshot wound."

He recited sentence by sentence, his voice was very soft, but it was interwoven with the cry of an owl and carried far away in the rain. Every sentence was about a person who had lived, every paragraph recounted a sloppy life, and every word accused someone present or absent.

Some of the people buried in the cemetery were killed by members of the Maroni family, while others had killed members of the Maroni family. But at this moment, after death, they revealed similar life backgrounds and similar sad situations.

The gang members who were used to living on the edge of a knife and killing decisively had never realized so clearly and directly that every person who died was so similar in essence, and such similar people died while killing each other.

Whether friend or foe, every person sleeping underground here is very similar to one's future destiny.

What's even more sad is that the Gotham civilians who were harmed by these dead gang members are very similar to their former selves.

No one spoke anymore. In this gray rain, they mourned from the bottom of their hearts for all the dead and living people, whether enemies or friends.

This incident spread throughout Gotham City the next day and also reached the ears of the Romans. After hearing this, the underworld godfather of Gotham did not show anger or sadness, but just quietly recited the tree planter's epitaph for everyone.

The next day, the Godfather's figure appeared in the rain beside the cemetery. Maroni stood in the rain, holding a black umbrella, looking at the Godfather beside him. The two of them stared at each other silently, neither arguing nor talking. They just turned their heads and watched the figure in the black cloak reappear at the edge of the woods.

This time, he brought some children wearing black raincoats, but other than that, it was almost the same as last time.

Just as he said, digging holes, planting trees, and filling the soil—it was a very boring and tiring job. But the two gangs stood quietly by, watching them plant trees from beginning to end, listening to Ma Zhaodi's eulogy, seeing him spread fertilizer, watching the cypress trees sprout, and the owls sing.

As the days passed, one tree after another was planted, and more and more people came to mourn the tree planting, from gangsters to ordinary people; more and more people participated in the moment of silence, from high-ranking officials and wealthy people to ordinary people.

How long had it been since the people of Gotham City had experienced such a deep sorrow? Or rather, how long had it been since the people of Gotham City had experienced the sorrow of others so personally? No one knew the answer.

Citizens of Gotham City continue to come, silently gazing at a small tree that represents their deceased friends or family, watching it slowly grow branches and leaves.

Only at this time, when everyone is close at hand, only at this time, do the civilians of Gotham dare to stand in front of Roman and Maroni and express their dissatisfaction with the current situation of Gotham City in silence.

Perhaps, it's not just dissatisfaction with Gotham City.

"Rosen, hurry up, catch up, this is big news!"

"Albert, I still don't think this is a good idea."

"What nonsense are you talking about? We are the first reporters who have the courage to approach the tree planter. We will get his first-hand interview materials. This is a reward for bravery. Just think about how sensational this exclusive interview will be!"

"Yes, yes Falcone."

"So many days have passed. Have you seen anyone at the scene being attacked by gang members? I assure you, the scene is absolutely safe!"

"But this ceremony is very solemn, I don't really want to."

"Don't talk nonsense to me! You just listen to what I say! Do you understand?"

Under Albert's strong request, Rosen, who was carrying the camera, soon fell silent.

It didn't rain today, and the two of them squeezed in at the edge of the silent crowd, trying hard to get to the front.

"Friend, friend, please make way, thank you."

Albert rushed left and right, and pushed a person in front of him. The man turned around, revealing a pair of sharp blue eyes under his blond hair.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, Chief Gordon, it's okay, it's okay, just wanted to take a couple of pictures."

"You'd better not do this." Gordon turned his head away, seemingly unwilling to talk more here, and just held Barbara's hand tightly.

Harvey, who was wearing a windbreaker and holding Greda's arm, also turned his head and gave him a warning look.

But Albert didn't care. What he did was not illegal. As an annoying journalist, he was used to the cold eyes of the parties involved and the comments that described him as "cold-blooded and heartless."

But compared to first-hand news, what can these comments count for? News only cares about ratings, bosses only care about profits, and journalists with conscience have long starved to death on the road to seeking the truth.

The ones who truly survive are people like me.

(End of this chapter)