August 9th, 8:00 AM.
Today was a special day. Gotham City, usually shrouded in clouds, rarely saw a clear sunrise.
The red sun rose high, and sunlight poured across the land.
However, this meant little to the citizens of Gotham. The crushing economic pressure left them no time to appreciate the scenery. Everyone moved in haste, walking the wide streets like puppets.
At a crossroads, a magazine editor walking while reading the paper bumped into a young professional woman who was looking down and drinking coffee. The editor quickly apologized, and seeing the woman's attractive face, he considered chatting her up.
Just then, a flyer drifted to the ground near his feet.
He picked it up, casually glanced at it, and upon confirming its contents, he froze in place like a wooden sculpture.
Seeing the odd look on his face, the woman asked,
"Sir, are you alright?"
The middle-aged man snapped back to reality, forced a strained smile, tucked the flyer away, and walked off quickly.
"Sir, your wallet!"
The woman called out a few times, but the man ignored her, his pace accelerating until he disappeared into the crowd.
"What a strange person!"
The woman shrugged, bewildered. She bent down to pick up the wallet, and another flyer floated down, landing right on top of it.
"What is this?"
The woman picked up the flyer and read it curiously:
Martin Jessie, Mayor of Gotham City: March 2001... May 2002... 2003... Bribed by: Carmine Falcone;
Killian B. Robb, Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department: July 1996... Christmas 1996... May 1998... Thanksgiving 2002, Bribed by: Carmine Falcone;
Torque Marshall, City Council President...
Brut Dean, State Court Chief Justice...
Fisk J. Clay, District Attorney...
A string of familiar yet unfamiliar names appeared. The content associated with them was not rhetoric, achievements, or policy, but bribery, graft, robbery, drugs, arms, and black money...
The woman covered her mouth, gasping: God!
The Sky Rains Secrets
Over a dozen drones streaked across the skies above Gotham.
Their hatches opened, and flyers detailing Gotham's darkness rained down like water, covering nearly every street, large and small.
It was peak rush hour, with vehicles flowing constantly and people crowding the sidewalks.
The appearance of the flyers seemed to hit a pause button on time. Everyone—drivers and passengers, office workers and small vendors—who picked up a flyer instantly turned into a statue.
The noise disappeared. Gotham City fell into a strange silence.
At City Hall, Martin Jessie, the Mayor, was about to start his day after breakfast. His assistant, Hobsen, rushed in.
"Mr. Jessie, this is terrible! We have a problem."
"How many times have I told you, don't panic. Remain calm."
Martin Jessie methodically adjusted his tie. Finding it unsatisfactory, he took a new one from a cabinet filled with various high-end ties.
As the saying goes, status transforms the body, and nourishment changes the spirit!
He used to be an unknown bank teller, constantly on edge, terrified of losing his job. Now he was different—a top-tier figure in American high society, a key political figure, and the current Mayor of Gotham City.
Having become a man of status, he had to maintain the proper demeanor. Composure and calmness in the face of trouble were essential qualities.
Assistant Hobsen was speechless. After a pause, he placed a flyer on the desk.
"Mr. Jessie, you'd better look at this! We really have a problem."
Martin Jessie picked up the flyer and casually glanced at it. The next second, the blood seemed to drain from his rosy cheeks, and his face instantly turned pale.
"How is this possible?!"
"Where did this thing come from? Who gave it out? Tell me now!"
Martin Jessie couldn't help but roar, his face turning an unsightly mix of green and white, looking ready to devour someone. Startled, his assistant quickly said,
"Someone is using drones to drop flyers over the city! They're all over the streets."
"Damn it!"
Martin Jessie cursed, ripped off his tie, and slammed it on the floor. He paced the room, his face quickly glistening with sweat.
"Call Falc... no, call Commissioner Robb. I'll call him myself."
Martin pointed toward the door. "You go notify the heads of all the precincts. Tell them to get to City Hall immediately. If I don't see them in twenty minutes, they're fired."
"Understood, I'll go right now."
The assistant nodded and started to leave, but was called back before reaching the door.
"Also, call all the major news media. Get everyone you can here. I'm holding a news conference. These false statements must be clarified."
After giving the orders, Martin Jessie slightly relaxed. He picked up the flyer and looked at it again, and fear and despair resurfaced. He couldn't wait a second longer. He took out his phone and tremblingly dialed Falcone's number.
Falcone's Response
When he received the call, Falcone was already aware of the flyers. He calmly told Jessie not to panic, that everything would be fine.
After a few minutes of continuous reassurance, Falcone hung up the phone and kicked his desk, his face dark enough to drip water.
"Where is Sidney? Where is he?"
The butler quickly replied, "We've checked. His family says Sidney went out last night on business and didn't return. No one knows what he was doing. The pilot of his private jet offered a lead: Sidney called him around 11 PM last night, telling him to prepare for takeoff, but never showed up, even this morning."
The butler quickly glanced up and whispered, "That's all the information we have."
"FUCK!"
Falcone roared like a beast. "That damned Jew! He dared to betray me!"
The butler trembled and lowered his head further.
The door opened, and Johnny Vitti strode in.
"Uncle, we've sent men to collect the flyers."
Falcone looked at him coldly.
"The flyers are all over Gotham. Tell me, how are you going to collect them?"
Johnny replied ruthlessly, "Street by street. If anyone refuses to hand them over, we beat them to death."
Falcone forcibly suppressed the urge to shove him into the nearest toilet. He raised his hand and pointed at the door.
"Get out! You don't need to worry about the flyers."
Johnny clenched his fists and left with an ugly expression.
Waves of rage surged from his heart. Falcone shook his head, staggering, and nearly fell to the floor.
"Master, are you alright?"
Falcone pushed the butler away and spoke slowly, word for word.
"Call the owners of the major newspapers. I want to meet with them at the Mossack Hotel at 8:40."
"I'll arrange it right away."
After the butler left, Falcone took out his phone and dialed a number he had never called before. After receiving the other party's promise, his grim face finally relaxed.
A knock sounded, and a thin white man with a buzz cut and a scar on his left cheek pushed the door open. This was Edwin Mitch, Falcone's most trusted subordinate and one of his three top assassins.
"Boss, you called for me!"
Falcone rubbed his temples and said heavily,
"Track down the drones. I need to know who is behind this. Also, send some trustworthy men to control Sidney's family. No one is to harm them without my command."
"Understood."
Edwin Mitch nodded, turned, and left.
After issuing a few more commands, the panic in Falcone's heart finally subsided. Although the situation was grim, he still held confidence. The family's decades of operation wouldn't be easily destroyed.
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