[Comprehensive British and American] Gotham Nightingale

Kakaka.

Ga Jia Ga.

Kakaka.

This is the sound of leaking broken shoes stepping on the snow.

The beggars staggered behind the skinny man, the snow soaked the degummed soles, and their feet were stiff from the cold.

……

Anyone with eyes could see that Nightingale brought only a hot dog that she had bitten off a third of it and was about to cool down from that flamboyant orange sheep.

Not worth a dollar.

So when she returned to the manager, who was obviously a gangster under his wing, holding the small oiled paper bag, all the scrutiny more or less disappeared.

They groaned secretly.

——Because they spent their time scouting for news, but they didn't even have a chance to snatch a little money from the beggar.

Damn stingy rich!

……

Of the crowd, Thin Jack—the dour man with the pile of little potatoes around him—was clearly the most angry.

He suppressed his anger while outside.

But when a group of people returned to the beggar colony near Chinatown-the dilapidated row houses crowded with beggars and homeless people, his anger was completely released.

"I don't want anything! Nothing, nothing, I want to arrive!"

"And let me wait for you here for so long!"

"You don't have Louise for dinner! Go dig through the trash by yourself!"

This skinny guy who's done nothing even in the gang and can only manage the youngest, weakest, and "craft" part of all the beggars in the entire Upper West Side growled.

He looked around, found his dignity and authority among the beggars, and used it without hesitation.

"Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow! No one is allowed to feed her!"

He viciously gave orders to the group of beggars at the bottom of his feet who had to huddle together for warmth because of their tattered clothes. His thin and twisted nose made him look even more mean.

Even, before leaving...

The tip of the nose twisted and turned in another direction, and said to Nightingale in a sinister but very loud voice:

"—Anyway, you've eaten enough, and you can bring food back, can't you? Little bastard..."

……

Thin Jack did it on purpose.

Nightingale thought.

Little Nightingale, whom he called "Louise" and "little bastard", didn't respond, and was still thinking about analyzing some twists and turns.

At this time, she completely lost the ignorant innocence and softness in front of Tony Stark.

Even, after Thin Jack snarled the last sentence, turned around and left...

While observing the malicious eyes around her, she could still draw a sneer that didn't match her age from the corner of her mouth.

Afterwards, the hungry beggars who were about to move because of Thin Jack's deliberate sentence "Can you still bring food back?" saw her cold cobalt blue eyes and sneer, and they were all vigilant and restrained. Stopped the movement that wanted to make a move.

A few older children who looked like the leaders of the small group of beggars actually showed a bit of disgust and fear in their eyes.

One of them, a boy with yellow hair and a big scar on his forehead, even opened his mouth halfway, lowered his head, and spit out a wordless "monster".

You know, Nightingale was at most six years old, and she was still a woman, and those little bosses were at least ten years old.

—Thin Jack didn't notice all of the above.

The power of the Upper West Side was merged not long ago.

He felt that his talents were buried, he was depressed, and he didn't even recognize the names of his beggars...

How could it be possible to notice such subtle clues, but it is very likely that he will regret not discovering them in the future.

……

Smoked cigarette butts, fragments of broken bowls, dead branches and rags...

These are the things that are most abundant in the shed area.

Oh, and beggars.

Nightingale stepped on the muddy snow, stepped through the crooked and leaky huts on both sides, and walked to the end of the beggar area.

Her shoes are also tattered, but her back is so straight.

No one tried to grab the food until she walked into the innermost shed, closed the door, and dropped the latch.

The light and wind and snow were blocked by the wooden door.

This dilapidated shack is surprisingly not dark, and it even has a small window with intact glass, and there are graceful patterns drawn with colored pencils on the glass.

At the end of the light, that is, under the window, there is a thin and slender figure lying on a small wooden bed.

Probably disturbed by the sound of Nightingale closing the door, the person under the quilt moved, opened his eyes, and after seeing the person clearly, he showed a weak and gentle smile:

"Hey, my little nightingale, did you fly from the cedar branch to sing for me?"

……

The boy was clearly of Asian descent.

He has ink-like raven-colored hair, narrow and beautiful black eyes, distinct collarbone and phalanx, and pale lips with dead skin due to illness.

"Persy... Percy."

Little Nightingale, who was vicious and dirty outside, suddenly softened.

She walked to the bed, wiped her hands vigorously on her trouser legs, and rubbed each other to warm up, before reaching out to shake his hand and touch his forehead.

"The sooner you get better, I'll sing for you."

The boy's eyes flickered, and he coaxed her like a child—of course, in his eyes, she was his sister—and said, "Every time I hear you sing, I feel much better."

But these words seemed to poke some pain point, and Nightingale's eyes turned red in an instant.

"No..." She couldn't help sobbing against the wet and red cobalt blue around her eyes, "I should be stronger...why I'm not strong enough..."

Posy was at a loss for a moment, as he usually said to the little girl, but she had never been so emotional as she was today.

He sat up halfway from the bed and reached out to wipe her tears, but in the end he wiped more and more.

The little girl's dirty cheeks were washed with tears, revealing white tenderness here and there.

The boy's clothes didn't fit him well.

When I raised my hand, the sleeves that were originally short shrank to the elbow, revealing a few lines of tattoos...

No, it's childish words written with colored pens.

……

"Warm",

"Nopain",

"Smile (happy)"...

If other beggars saw it, they would probably only laugh at this Asian's "spiritual victory method".

——Of course, uneducated beggars may not even know what spiritual victory is.

But Percy seriously pointed to the writing on his arm and said to Nightingale:

"You are already very powerful, little Nightingale."

"You are just like your name, an angel with a lamp."

Little Nightingale didn't speak, and hiccupped silently.

Posy had no choice but to hold her up ... well, he couldn't hold her ... so he hugged her hard into his arms, rubbed her dirty and knotted black curly hair carelessly, and comforted her in a low voice:

"Because of you, I don't feel cold in winter, I don't feel sick, I can't go out to work, and I don't go hungry."

Even when no one else was in the shed, Percy kept his voice extremely low, making sure that no one else could hear this startling, illogical secret.

"But I can't cure you..." Nightingale muttered.

Posy resolutely ignored her muttering: "Perhaps the most correct thing I did in my life was to recognize you as my sister. Compared with my original life, all this is already very good, isn't it?"

"No." The little girl said stubbornly, "You could have had a better life, Percy, you obviously had the opportunity to leave back then—without our burdens."

The Asian teenager just shook his head.

He knew Nightingale's knot, and knew that no matter what he said, it was useless.

So he changed the phrase: "If you say that about Alger, he will be so angry that he will explode."

Nightingale choked, and said stiffly: "I said what's wrong with him, he is a firecracker! Fighting twice every day, and I want to deal with him..."

Probably because of excitement, the voice of this sentence was a little louder.

Outside the door, the sound of footsteps who were walking this way stopped suddenly.

Then, as if the attack bar was charging...

After a few seconds of silence, a furious voice that was in the period of voice change, so that it resembled a drake's voice, came along with the knock on the door:

"Smelly little bird, you have no conscience! You are fucking talking bad about me again!"

"Come out! If I don't give you some color, you still don't know why the red-haired Alger is so red!!!"

Nightingale: Just a little bit.

……

A burst of chaos.

The Alger who was finally allowed to enter the door was tall and huddled in the corner of the shed, viciously gnawing on Nightingale's leftover hot dog.

He was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, with remarkably Celtic features: a mop of red hair, blue eyes, and freckles on his cheeks.It's just that the expression is too fierce, so it's not easy to mess with.

And Nightingale was cooking minced meat porridge - because Percy's fragile stomach is not suitable for junk food like hot dogs.

This traditional Chinese food method was taught to her by Posey.

In this shack where mermaids are mixed, Percy, Alger and Nightingale form a small "family".

However, Percy is different from the other two orphans. He used to have a family with his parents and a relatively fulfilling life...but it's all in the past.

At the beginning, the boy was very surprised that the little girl could perfectly grasp when to put the vegetable leaves and when to cook the rice oil when making porridge for the first time, and attributed all this to her extraordinary talent.

But in fact, Nightingale didn't tell Posy that when he mentioned the word "porridge", a series of recipes such as preserved egg and lean meat porridge, scallop, shrimp and seafood porridge and so on appeared in her mind.

She is less than six years old this year.

She was only three years old when she was found on the street.

With no parents and no identification, the pedigree looks very messy, and it is impossible to tell where he was born.

If it wasn't for Percy, she wouldn't have survived Gotham at all.

But even with Percy, Nightingale was guilty of keeping little secrets.

For example, as she grows up, more and more knowledge, common sense, and experience come to mind.

For example, she has never met Tony Stark, but today she can know who he is, what kind of person he is, and what kind of character he has when she sees him today.

The little girl can be trusted to show her special abilities in front of them—after all, mutants are no secret in this world.

But she subconsciously didn't say her "knowledge". Even though she was only six years old, she knew that it was absolutely absolute and unreasonable.

Perhaps the beggars she had threatened were right.

She is a monster.

The author has something to say: the next chapter grows up√

Master CP is locked √

The heroine's ability is emerging√

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