[Comprehensive British and American] Gotham Nightingale

Gollum.

Gollum.

The milky white steam dyed the hazy snow outside the window with warm heat.

Gulu Gulu, the porridge is ready.

Nightingale took a rare intact bowl decorated with small porcelain blue flowers, filled with porridge, covered it with a heat-insulating cloth, and held it to Posy with both hands.

Then he put an ugly big bowl into Alger's hands, and hummed against his curly hair, "Serve it yourself!"

Unexpectedly, the red-haired boy did not argue with her.

He stood up in silence, served the porridge in silence, and drank it in silence.

——The porridge was very hot, but he didn't wait long, and poured it down like masochistic, the action was so fast that it was too late to stop.

Little Nightingale finally noticed something was wrong after Alger took the hot dog from her hand: "...What's wrong with you."

Because he drank the porridge too quickly, the boy's lips were red, but his eyes were also red, and he turned his face away: "...it's nothing."

Nightingale slapped the rag and stared at him, and Percy also looked over worriedly.

——They were not afraid at all that Alger would hold back the matter, because he was not a person who could hide secrets at all.

After more than ten seconds, the freckled boy wiped his face and opened his mouth.

"Two messages."

He said with red eyes.

"First, Wayne Enterprises will establish a Wayne Rescue Center to collect underage homeless people and manage them in a unified way. Maybe they even have the possibility to go to school!"

"The Upper West Side has been determined to be covered by assistance, and, it is said, people with physical disabilities or illnesses may be able to receive Medicaid."

"—Whether this is Bruce Wayne's show or not, we have to fight for it. There is probably a cure for Posey's illness."

Nightingale's dirty little face showed joy, but suddenly thought of something and turned to worry: "The group of people above..." will definitely try their best to stop it.

In Gotham, what is the population?

Population is garbage, but population is also money.

Even, if it is impossible to start with Wayne Enterprises...

They may directly choose to coerce, threaten, hide, and control most beggars.

"That's not the point."

The red-haired boy licked his lips nervously and lowered his voice.

"Wayne's actions are very subtle. He probably wants to suddenly make a big event and show off the charity of the rich... so the number of people on the rescue center list must not be unsightly!"

"Here's what I overheard, and if I hadn't tried to pick the wallet of a Wayne Enterprises white collar today—hey Percy, don't look at me, I wouldn't have gotten caught!—if I hadn't done it today You can't hear this yet."

Nightingale didn't think there was anything wrong with Alger stealing someone's wallet.

She is only six years old. Although there are always some magical memories and pictures in her head, her three views are still polished by Gotham.

In the environment full of haze, in the smelly sinful soil of Gotham...

A child's mind is like a plant that cannot find sunlight, it can only grow wildly and twistedly.

Nightingale didn't even know what he would look like if it wasn't for Percy.

Therefore, the little girl just stared at Alger helplessly: "Get to the point!"

"Oh, the important point... In short, the idiots like Skinny Jack must have no time to react, let alone the other beggars."

The freckles on the boy's face became more and more obvious because of his excitement: "We have the upper hand, and we have a huge advantage!"

"So, our focus is on..."

"Make sure Percy is on that list! And you!"

As soon as the words fell, the black-haired boy Posey at the side noticed something was wrong, and frowned slightly: "This is a good thing, but why did you hesitate in the first place..."

Alger's eyes flickered, and he avoided the question.

He panted nervously, stretched out his big hand, and grabbed the little girl's thin shoulders forcefully.

"Little Bird, I know you have a way—Andy and Mike's little bastards are terrified of you—in short, use your furry little secrets to make Wayne Enterprises notice your existence."

Teenagers at this age are always frizzy and neither serious nor serious.

Nightingale's shoulder hurt from being scratched, but she didn't bother to care about it. She keenly caught the loopholes in the other party's words: "...What about you?"

"What do you want to do, Alger?"

She stretched out her thin fingers that looked like chicken paws, and poked vigorously on the other's forehead, one word at a time.

"—No, absolutely, no, impulsive action!"

"I don't want to give you the aftermath at all, don't think about it!"

The six-year-old girl was very fierce, but this time, the young man who was always keen to fight with her put aside his edge.

"...This is the second news I want to say."

His rare seriousness and seriousness, his furry red eyebrows were frowned, and his expression was complicated and difficult to discern at all that didn't fit this age group.

——like the ease of a traveler who has been trekking for many days and finally unloaded his luggage.

——It’s also like Sisyphus who was punished by the Greek gods. After pushing the boulder to the top of the mountain, he knew that it would fall the moment before it arrived, but he desperately expected the despair and hope that it could really arrive.

"I'm leaving, little bird."

"A detention center is not the way for me to go."

"Although you are dirty and have a bad temper and always fight against me, I think it's not bad to be able to be a family member with you these few years."

Nightingale: "...Hello!"

She was a little dazed by the sudden news, subconsciously looked at Posey, expecting him to say something.

——Even though Percy has been trapped in a narrow shanty due to illness this year, he is still the eldest and the backbone of the three.

However, the Asian teenager who was placed high hopes by the little girl just showed a dazed expression, and asked in a low voice: "Then what is your path? Alger."

"You know the answer, don't you?" Alger looked out the window, "My way...is in Gotham."

There are delicate and immature patterns on the window, which were painted by Nightingale and Posey two years ago - Alger is only responsible for finding the right glass, he said he is not interested in such artistic things interest.

It was as if, now, he was going to push the easier, easier path, and even the possibility of getting an education, and walk alone into the muddy sinful soil of Gotham.

Nightingale retorted stubbornly: "This is Gotham."

Alger said, "No, it's not—"

He pointed out the window, across the rusty iron fence, across the dilapidated shantytown, the dark street full of feasting lights.

The iceberg logo representing Oswald Copperpot, the "Penguin Man", is made into the shape of a neon light and lights up as night falls.

"—there is."

He said.

"Gotham with endless possibilities."

……

"Gotham with endless possibilities..."

……

"That endless Gotham..."

……

"Oh!"

A hexagonal wine glass was thrown over half the bar.

With a bang, it hit the calendar hanging on the wall of the bar, and it fell apart.

The bartender with a black tie moved to the side elegantly and dexterously, slowly took out a plain towel from his suit pocket, and wiped the sleeves and collar that were not dirty.

——If you look carefully, you can find a blue bird stamp embroidered with dark blue silk thread in the corner of the towel, which is exactly the same as the one surrounded by the vine logo in the center of the bar.

However, Gotham's bartenders can dodge flexibly, and Gotham's calendar cannot.

The splashed wine splashed all over the calendar paper, soaking the line of "Jan, 01, 2010" printed in ink.

"The ball... hiccup... the ball went in! Haha!"

This drunken, unscrupulous howl was evidently from the owner of the broken wine glass.

"Continued Cup!"

Wearing only a vest in the frigid temperature of January, the burly man with muscle bumps and hideous tattoos on his arms waved at the bar and pointed at the bartender.

"Little boy! That's right, you boy, I told you to have another drink!"

The curvature of the smile on the bartender's face, who was called a little boy, didn't change.

He slowly threw the hand towel that had wiped the "stain" into the trash can under the bar, and called the cleaning staff to clean up the bar without any intention of "mixing another glass of wine".

Such an attitude is obviously full of provocation.

The brawny man felt his face was blown away, and the effects of alcohol and drugs were both at work, and he didn't know which one catalyzed which one...

At this moment, he only felt that the drinkers around him were watching him play.

Before he came to Gotham, he hated those who looked down on him. Now that he came to Gotham, his mind is full of wanting to make a big splash in this crime-legal territory.

If you don't find your place today, it will be a bad omen for you to start out badly!

In short, when he stood up with his heavy head dragging, the only thing left in his mind was the idea of ​​"I want to give that blind boy some color."

"...Don't make trouble!"

Another tattooed companion who brought him here was more sober than him, and was about to grab him with his hand.

"I didn't bring you to Gotham to hurt me. This is the territory of 'Gotham Nightingale', and her bar won't let me..."

Before he finished speaking, the brawny man who was planning to make trouble laughed: "The nightingale of Gotham? Hiccup... who is that? The top wandering warbler in the West District?"

As if he had consciously said an extremely subtle and funny pornographic joke, the tattooed man started laughing like a hiccup after drinking too much Coca-Cola.

I don't know if it was the illusion that he laughed too loudly, but he felt that the surroundings seemed to have quieted down.

Even reaching out to his companion, he didn't know when he let go.

——This filled his heart with the vanity of "I'm in control of the scene", mixed with some uneasiness that he didn't know where it came from.

Benevolent,

Benevolent,

Benevolent,

As if someone was knocking on the door.

No.

It sounds like high heels.

Heels and wooden floors.

……woman?

Before the nerves paralyzed by the alcohol could react, a cold scent wafted from behind...

And, temperature.

A tall and sexy shadow pressed over from behind the dim light, and a cold hand gently and delicately strangled his neck.

"Hey, I seem to hear a pig barking like a dog?"

The author has something to say: give refills to the little angels below︿￣︶￣︿

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