Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

"Internal Revenue Service Commissioner Bawell Smith," the brown-haired woman in a black suit flashed her credentials at Bruce as two tall and sturdy subordinates, holding shotguns, approached and positioned themselves behind Bruce.

"We have received the information you submitted, and now we will carry out the witness protection process. You will be under comprehensive IRS oversight and protection until our investigation concludes. Thank you for your cooperation."

Bruce was escorted onto the helicopter, but Bawell had yet to leave. He glanced back at the Pale Knight, then said, "Mr. Mayor, it's a pleasure to meet you. This is our first encounter, but it won't be the last. I hope you can cooperate with us. Thank you."

After speaking, he too boarded the helicopter, leaving the Pale Knight and Nightwing staring at each other, dumbstruck.

Suddenly, a faint buzzing of electricity pierced the silence, as if some colossal creature was awakening. Both turned their heads towards the city.

The first screen lit up, its piercing blue light cutting through the darkness like a Sharp Blade. Then, the second, the third…numerous screens, like ignited Starfires, spread rapidly across the building facades. Neon advertisements and holographic projections, data streams rushed in like tides, submerging the entire city in a sea of virtual flames.

"It's great to see everyone again, I am Penny, the host for Gotham's nightly news."

"I am Pollack."

Two familiar voices from Gotham appeared on screen, as the news hosts smiled professionally.

"Today, our task here isn't to broadcast the news but to commentate on a live broadcast. Think of this as a variety show, and shortly we will switch to professional variety show hosts to critique the content."

"Yes, tonight's program is a bit special; the variety show organizers have titled it 'Night of Death.'"

"Please don't misunderstand, no one will actually die. So confidently let your children sit in front of the screen, this might even teach them a lot of professional knowledge."

"Yes, Penny. My son is at the live broadcast site now, and I want him to learn a lot. After all, such opportunities are rare."

"Alright, I guess our viewers are already urging us to stop beating around the bush." The female host smiled and said, "Tonight's program will be broadcast live, and the theme is 'Auditing'."

"That's right, you heard correctly, it's not April but Gotham still welcomes an unprecedented tax cleanse. Now let's connect to Ms. Smith from the Internal Revenue Service, who is in charge of this operation, for a detailed explanation..."

The scene briefly flickered, and a woman's silhouette appeared on the screen, she pressed her headset then said, "I don't have much to say. You bunch of jerks from Gotham have gone too far! I've been waiting for this day for a long time."

"Cough, okay. Residents of Gotham, please don't panic. As long as you pay your taxes on time, this operation won't harm you. On the contrary, we will make those rich folks cough up the taxes they owe and properly reform this damn city!"

Ordinary people gazed at one another in front of the screens. Although they had all heard of the IRS's reputation, not many had actually felt its iron fist. But having been oppressed by the elite, now hearing them talk tough made them somewhat skeptical.

Suddenly, the image flickered again. This time the screen was much richer, and the familiar face that appeared was none other than the host of the "Lower City Jazz Dance" variety show, Patrick.

"Hi, good evening, everyone. I'm Patrick, guess where I am? Some might have guessed looking at the background behind me. Yes, Fels Casino, which closing has saved quite a few families, right?"

Patrick's exaggerated gestures and slightly hellish jokes immediately made people laugh. And the middle-aged, chubby man on the screen waved his hand and said, "I'm not here for an anti-gambling education, quite the opposite. Today, I'm going to play an interesting gambling game with you all."

"You might have already heard about the audit. It's no small matter. But since it's not us who are unlucky, why not have fun together?"

"Okay, see the phone number appearing at the bottom of the screen?" Patrick stretched out his finger and pointed down, saying, "Now, quickly take out your phone books, write down this number. If you strike it rich later, this will always be your lucky number!"

"Got it? How about you? And you? You don't think your brain can remember such a long string of numbers, do you? Pick up a pen right now..."

"Great! I assume everyone has it noted down. Now please listen carefully, what I'm going to say is very important, this is a once in a century opportunity. I don't want any of my fans to miss it."

"We all know Gotham has a lot of wealthy people, right. You can always name a few, Justin who owns supermarkets, Pete who's into real estate, and who else, Charabang who owns factories? Ha, he's gone."

"How much money do these guys make every day? Does anyone know? You must think, who cares, he isn't going to share a cent with me anyway."

"Yes, of course, he won't. Even if you were to kneel at their feet and beg, they wouldn't spare you a second glance. Because you are just a dirty pauper. There's even reproductive isolation between you and them."

"But, but, guess how they face the officials of the National Revenue Bureau? Haha. Anyone want to see them kneeling on the ground, licking their boots? I sure do!"

"Today is a big day. The National Revenue Bureau can't stand the lawless tax thieves of Gotham anymore, they've decided to conduct a major purge and broadcast the whole process live."

"They will fight to the death, won't they? Even though they've made so much money, they won't just willingly pay their taxes. Unfortunately, if you've watched the news, you should know. They've unfortunately been kidnapped."

"Now, they can't escape punishment the old way. And my show, I mean myself, had the fortunate chance to contact the kidnappers. They expressed great interest in the tax investigation and agreed to let my photographers capture their utterly despairing expressions."

As soon as Patrick finished speaking, a small window appeared beside him. The window gradually enlarged, and Patrick himself became a picture-in-picture.

In the new frame, a dark prison hall. A huge long table with several chairs around it. Each chair had someone sitting, their hands handcuffed to the armrests.

Suddenly the lights came on. The audience could then see their faces—Gotham's elite.

These were indeed familiar faces. Their industries nearly monopolize Gotham. But apart from them, there were others in the cell, not so familiar, mostly hangers-on of these core figures.

A huge Gotham Map was placed in the center of the long table. As the camera moved upwards, the map was visible, simply showing the terrain but also sketching the locations of various family industries.

A high-definition picture of the map appeared on one side of the screen. The audience could then clearly see. Various industries were marked with different colors. It also drew Monopoly-like grids and routes.

Clank! Two dice landed in the center of the map.

"Everyone must be wondering," the image in the cell froze, and Patrick returned to the center of the screen. By now, a large printed map curtain had appeared behind him, and he was like a weatherman, holding a long thin rod, pointing at the map.

"This is the game we are playing today. I call it 'Tax Monopoly'. The rules aren't much different from regular Monopoly. Simply throw the dice and move the steps. Wherever you stop, you investigate there."

"Of course, just sitting in front of the TV, this gameplay would be somewhat boring. But our organizers have a better idea, they decided to involve everyone."

"You've already seen it. There are many forks in the map's routes." Patrick gestured on the map, then took out a magnetized little man, snapped it onto the map, mimicking the little man stepping forward.

"If the dice points exactly let our agent stop at a fork, then you need to take out your mobile phones. To vote for the direction."

"Every text you send represents one vote. Oh, by the way, don't worry about the phone bill, texts are free."

"We will count votes on site. The agent will move in the direction with the most votes. In other words, you can control where the agent will investigate first."

"Some may ask, tax inspection is serious business, how can we make it so trivial? Shouldn't we first check those big tax evaders?"

"You've hit the nail on the head. Insiders revealed, there are no rich people in Gotham who don't evade taxes. That means we have to inspect sooner or later. It doesn't matter who we check first."

"In the past, tax investigations focused on selecting targets for hard hits. It was because they were afraid those big evaders would run. But in our Gotham, this is not a problem. Thanks to the Lady Joker, the kidnapper. None of them can run."

Patrick suddenly pointed a finger at the screen, saying: "I know you must be saying. This guy is blabbering again. Voting with mobile phones, how can that involve making money?"

"Guys, look where I am! Fels Casino has reopened! This is today's highlight—let's bet on their sentences!"

"I know you don't understand the law. So, let's first see how some unlucky people with precedents were sentenced!"

Patrick waved his hand. Several profiles appeared on the screen. All were wearing handcuffs, prison clothes, all famous people who went to jail over tax issues.

The big screen at the forefront of the prison dining hall played in sync.

A rhythmic electronic synthesizer sound began.

"Wesley Snipes—A famous hero's tax doom! Code loophole: Three consecutive years of 0 tax returns X forged tax refund documents. Outcome: A 3-year golden journey in federal prison, plus a penalty of 7 million US dollars—Hotter than a vampire's sunbath is IRS's audit laser!"

"Laura van Dusen—Silicon Valley Goddess's dark web wallet! Encryption trap: Use an offshore company to transfer 20 million US dollars income X Bitcoin mining machine tax handling. Outcome: Writing 'Blockchain and the Tears Behind Bars' in the VIP area of San Quentin Prison, her sentence is 2.4 times longer than her algorithm cycle!"

"Maurice McMahon—King of real estate's paper maze! Construction trick: 47 skyscrapers 'loss' statement X 'business consulting fee' for a mistress. Outcome: When the bulldozers crushed his marble desk, federal agents were scanning his Swiss Bank quantum key with AR glasses."

"Yvonne Staling—Fashion mother's fabric scam! Creative tax evasion: Declare 5 million US dollars 'clothing destruction loss' X write her private jet as 'fabric transport special plane'. Outcome: Latest seasonal fashion show held in the women's prison laundry, her prison number is her new brand LOGO."

"Remember: Gotham is City of Sin, a lawless land—but not a tax-free zone!"