Gotham’s first law is: Here, things will always develop in a bad direction. If you have a bad premonition about something, it will definitely come true.

And Gotham’s second law is: in Gotham, no matter how correct your starting point is, how clever the method is, or how perfect the plan is, they can make you a piece of shit in the end.

This vocational school, co-founded by more than a dozen gangs, is located in the Living Hell of the East District. Because of the construction and renovation here, the hardware facilities have become the best in the entire East District and the only place that can be found in the entire East District, and the environment and atmosphere are relatively suitable for the school.

Note that it is relatively suitable.

When Schiller came to the Living Hell again, it had changed a lot.

Although the transformation is still so complicated and crowded, it is no longer old and dilapidated. The alleys are still very narrow, but at least it is still clean and the corridors are still very cramped. At least there is sufficient light source and signs, so that people won’t get lost.

The vocational school is opened in an empty room on the 8th floor of the building on the east side of the Living Hell. Outside is the terrace on the 8th floor, which can be used for students to move freely.

Originally, this place was designed as a laundry room, but due to the change in the water pipe route, this place was vacant.

The great location with a terrace is of course controlled by the largest gangster Mooni Gang here. The Mooni Gang was forced by more than a dozen other gangs to hand over this location to open a vocational school for them.

So far, the style of things is still normal. Although this matter itself sounds a bit ridiculous, it has not exceeded Shiller's perception of Gotham.

As Schiller expected, the gangsters warmly welcomed his arrival and invited him to give a lesson here.

There are no special requirements for the content of the course. Simply put, what to say to the children of the Falcone family, then let’s talk to these students.

Schiller had expected this a long time ago, so he did not refuse and walked onto the podium, intending to talk about the history of Gotham City and the development of the gang industry as usual at Falcona Manor.

This classroom is quite large, at least compared to other rooms in Living Hell, it is already spacious.

But the forty students below were already crowded. When Schiller walked to the podium, he glanced down and found that the people below were still young, the oldest was no more than 20 years old, and the youngest was about in his early 10s.

This is also normal. The gangsters are not stupid either. Of course, they know that even if a drunkard in his thirties or forties can come to school, he will not have any future.

Even if these young people have some bad habits now, at least their brains have not been damaged by alcohol, and their learning speed is definitely faster than those of middle-aged people.

Schiller has a habit of taking classes wherever he attends classes, the first thing he does when he starts is to name a name.

As a result, the class did not even have a roster. The gangster boss staring at the bottom of the stage could only take a piece of paper and let the students write their names on their own.

The paper was circling underneath. When Schiller put it in, he covered his forehead and said helplessly: "Okay, it seems that the situation here is worse than I thought."

But he maintained the professional quality of a teacher as much as possible. Schiller said: "First of all, what I need you to write is your real name, not your nickname and nickname. Who is this person named Tire? Can you raise your hand and show me?"

A little fat man raised his hand below, and he smiled proudly at the side, then shouted: "It's me! Teacher! I'm the tire! The tire that will explode!"

"Okay, then tell me what your name is? What's your last name?"

"I just call it Tire. My mother and the people around me call me that because I was very fat when I was born."

"Then you have to have a last name, right?"

The fat man frowned and said, "My father died before I was born. I don't know what his surname is. As for my mother, I only know that her name is Bonnie..."

"Okay, sit down." Schiller continued to look at the paper and said, "Who is this person called... Red Truck?"

A black man wearing a red jacket, with lip nails and nose rings stood up and said, "It's me! I'm the racing king of this piece! Teacher, do you want to transport goods? Just find me! From Living Hell to Elizabeth Street, I can drive there in 10 minutes!"

"Then you are really..." Schiller paused for a moment. After he recalled, he found that if he drove from here to Elizabeth Street, it would take at least 40 minutes. Does this person fly? Can he arrive in 10 minutes?

Another voice immediately sounded in class: "Come on! You are riding a motorcycle. What kind of goods can your motorcycle transport?"

Schiller looked up and said the person who was talking was a white girl with flower-tabulated arms. He asked, "What's your name?"

Gu Feng

"I don't have a name, most people here don't have any serious names. You can call me a rocket, it's the most powerful one, wow-hahaha..." The girl and the classmates around her laughed.

Schiller sighed, and he continued to look at the name on the paper, his eyes kept moving down his fingers, and soon he discovered a unique handwriting.

The handwriting of most people on this piece of paper is like ghost talismans. The English letters and strokes are simple enough, and they can be written like bugs. However, in this pile of bug-like handwriting, one of the handwritings is very special.

Its letters are not only written in a regular manner, but also have some traces of floral pens. Schiller pronounced the name: "Oswald Copper..."

He was about to look up and see who it was, but then he was suddenly stunned. Why is this name so familiar?

It's not such a coincidence, right?

As a result, as soon as he finished pronunciating the name, a short figure sitting in the corner stood up. His face was pale, his eyes were sunken in his sockets, and a hooked nose that looked not very pleasing. He raised his hand and said, "It's me, teacher."

Schiller opened his mouth, and he felt that what he wanted to ask was a bit inappropriate. After all, the boy who raised his hand should look only in his teenage years, and he is probably younger than Bruce.

He can't go up and ask, will you become Gotham's famous villain Penguin?

That's right, Oswald Coppert, a very special name, shouldn't have a duplicate name in Gotham. If it's not surprising, this should be the teenage penguin.

Schiller looked at Coppert carefully and found that the boy was not only a little short and gloomy, but also gentle.

After all, you have to see what kind of monsters he is in. Most of the students sitting here are in the same style as the red truck, wearing various bright coats, six or seven holes in their ears, most of the black men are dreadlocks, and the white men's hairstyles are strange, full of tattoos, and they sit on chairs and have thorns on their butts, moving seven times a minute. If it weren't for the bosses of the gangster standing by the wall, they would have had a big fuss.

In this environment, Coppert seems very normal and even a little gentle.

He was wearing a obviously old suit, which didn't fit very well, and I don't know where it came from. He wore a plaid shirt inside, the collar was meticulously maintained, and even the cufflinks were fully buttoned.

He had black hair and his sideburns, and there were no messy holes on his face, nor any obvious tattoos. Except for the hooked nose that made him look a little gloomy, he looked pretty good.

For some reason, Schiller was even moved to see such a penguin man. It turned out that there were still normal children in hell.

That's right, compared with these black second generations who are dancing with demons, the Penguin can even be considered a rule-based one.

Schiller recalled and found that this might be normal. Originally, in the comics, the Penguin was a gangster boss who liked to pretend to be elegant. He often wore a top hat and a cigar, and also had a luxuriously decorated restaurant.

Although this little penguin has not yet developed to that point, it has become a little clue. His dress is very old-fashioned, like a person from the 19th century, he is inevitably a little out of place.

Copper sat alone in the corner of the classroom, not participating in the whispering of others at all, but just looked at Schiller with a little dull look.

Schiller felt that he was familiar with him, but he really didn't remember where he had seen this future Penguin. He thought for a while and found that he couldn't remember it, so he left this matter behind.

Schiller cleared his throat and suddenly became quieter. He said, "A teacher must have come to teach you before, but I want to rectify my discipline in this class. There are two things in total."

"The first is to make a good list. I don't care whether you have a name before or not. In short, now, you must make a name for yourself. Coppert is the only one who writes well on this list. So let him do it. After you make up the name, tell him, and then let him write it on a piece of paper..."

"The second thing is to choose a class monitor, be responsible for scheduling the course schedule, arrange the class and the time for the end of get out of class... The fat man named Tire, I think you have a good popularity, just let's do it. After each teacher gets off, you go and ask him when he will take the next class, and then record it on the course schedule."

The fat man opened his mouth, obviously not expecting that such a big thing would fall on him. He looked at a gangster boss standing by the wall like asking for help. The big man glared at him, and the fat man had to say, "Okay, but, teacher, I can't even spell the names and words of some subjects."

"Then go find Copper, he should. I think his handwriting is well written. Then let him write the course and post it on the wall."

Corbert obviously didn't expect that Schiller would hand over the task to him. He seemed a little restrained and had no villain temperament to make trouble in the future. He muttered a few words in a bit nervous, but in the end he didn't say anything.

Schiller is not treating special treatment or is interested in the future Penguin.

What he said was the fact that Coppert was the only one in the class who could understand writing, and such a complex name could be remembered and spelled correctly. If you don't give it to him, there would be no one else.

As soon as Schiller called for get out of class to end, the classroom below was in chaos, and Coppert was still hiding in the corner without saying a word.
Chapter completed!