Ever since their last date in the park, Luke Shaw hasn't held high expectations for Emily's intelligence.
Fortunately, she's young and has plenty of time to grow. Luke firmly believed that under his guidance, she would definitely become the director of the FBI.
"When you have a small force fighting a large one, the mismatch in combat power is indeed a huge problem. What do you think we should do?"
The girl glanced at Luke and said in a whispery voice, "I thought about it carefully. With the seven of us, we have the ability to rush into Falcone's house and subdue him. Once we have him, everyone else will be easy to deal with."
Cough, cough, cough!!
Luke coughed violently, completely thrown off balance.
Emily looked nervous. "Do you think that's not a good idea?"
"No! Not at all!"
Luke took a drink of water to clear his throat. "Your idea is excellent. It goes right for the throat."
The girl immediately sighed in relief. She wasn't sure why, but lately, she felt like her brainpower wasn't up to par.
Luke continued, "What then? What do we do after we catch Falcone? He still has a bunch of dangerous thugs. How do we handle them?"
"I think we should hand them over to the police."
Luke chuckled. "Given the current situation in Gotham, how can the police possibly handle the rioters?"
Emily frowned, deep in thought.
The door opened, and a waiter walked in, carrying the restaurant's signature dish: Lychee Pork.
This dish was Luke's favorite, and he immediately began eating. As he ate, he observed the girl's reaction. Seeing her tightly furrowed brow, he shook his head.
"Cutting down a tree isn't easy, especially an old one. It's too thick and has too many branches. If you just cut the main trunk, the falling branches could kill a lot of people. To prevent accidents, loggers usually clear all the branches, leaving a bare trunk, and then saw it down piece by piece. That's the safest method."
Emily caught on. "You mean..."
"Falcone is the trunk of the large tree, and his thugs are the branches. If you want to take down the trunk, you must deal with the branches."
"But we don't have enough people."
"With so many police officers in Gotham, how can we be short on manpower?"
Emily was confused. Didn't he just say the police were useless? Why the sudden change?
Luke shook his head helplessly and explained softly,
"For Gotham, this riot isn't necessarily a bad thing; you could even call it a good thing because it has perfectly separated the good from the bad."
"Take the police system, for instance. One-third of the police force took bribes, but undeniably, two-thirds did not. Before, the one-third and two-thirds were mixed together, like a big vat of dye where you couldn't tell the shades apart. It's different now."
"The flyers broke that deadlock. Facing the angry citizens, the corrupt officers can't even protect themselves, so they have no courage to stay in the vat. Once they ran, the dark dye in the vat disappeared, leaving only the transparent color."
"Countless historical events prove that a pure army possesses incredibly formidable power. The remaining Gotham police force is such an army. All they lack is a leader."
The girl suddenly understood. "You mean that if we provide intelligence, the police might help with the arrests?"
"Not might, but must. The profession of a police officer is tied to many things: survival, honor, value, faith, and so on. This incident has trampled all those things into dust. If they don't step forward, Gotham will have no police force left after this is over."
"For the sake of their own survival, they must prove the value of the police existence."
"I understand."
Emily took a deep breath. "I'll go find Jim Gordon right away."
Luke secretly nodded. The fact that she could think of this step meant the girl's intelligence wasn't hopeless.
Only a police officer can lead police officers—that's a professional rule. Looking across Gotham, Jim Gordon was undoubtedly the best choice. His experience and network were solid, even though he lost his job for letting the black Lamborghini go.
But viewed through the current lens, that wasn't a bad thing; it had actually become an advantage.
"No, I'll go see him now."
The girl was impulsive. Before Luke could say another word, she was gone, leaving him looking helpless.
A Visit to Jim Gordon
In a detached house in the suburbs of Gotham City, a scruffy Jim Gordon stood by the washing machine doing laundry. His wife, Sarah, was over nine months pregnant and unable to move easily, so as a husband, he had to take on the housework alone.
To keep his wife from worrying, Jim hadn't told her about being fired. Only in the dead of night would he hide in the bathroom, savoring the horror of being unemployed in middle age.
His child was about to be born, and he didn't even have a steady income.
After finishing the laundry, Jim went to the second-floor balcony, lit a cigarette, and quietly looked at the night view.
"Dad, are you hiding something from us?"
Barbara Gordon, just over seventeen, stood beside her father, staring at him intently.
Jim put out his cigarette and forced a smile.
"What are you talking about? Don't listen to nonsense."
"You're lying!" Barbara scoffed. "I know everything. You were fired from the force because of the black Lamborghini incident, and you've been secretly taking odd jobs these past few days."
"Be quiet!"
Jim shushed her. "Don't let Sarah hear you."
Barbara pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, saying seriously, "Dad, are you thinking about getting your job back?"
Jim Gordon remained silent.
Barbara advised, "I think it'd be better to find a different career. Look at the Gotham police—bribes, corruption, taking black money. They're utterly rotten. Don't be a cop anymore. If you can't let it go, you could be a private detective. With your skills, Dad, you'd be fine."
Jim frowned. "Not all police officers are bad. There are good ones too."
"Good ones?"
Barbara scoffed, taking out a flyer and slapping it into his hand. "Many of the people on this list are your former colleagues, Dad. You and those 'good cops' must have known about their corruption and taken money, but you turned a blind eye. According to the constitution, police officers who know about a crime and fail to report it are committing an offense."
"Good police officers don't commit crimes!"
Jim was left speechless, only able to sigh repeatedly.
His daughter was right. Most officers knew about the internal corruption in the precinct but chose to stay silent for various reasons. Technically speaking, there truly were no "good police officers" in Gotham.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it."
Barbara bounced off the chair, but Jim immediately pulled her back down. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere."
This was a sensitive time; police officers had to be careful everywhere.
Jim Gordon grabbed his weapon and then opened the door.
In the dim light, there were no "citizens" or "rioters," only a pretty girl with purple hair and purple eyes.
"You are..."
Emily flashed her badge. "Federal Bureau of Investigation, Mr. Gordon. We need to talk."
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