State North, Private Alpine Juvenile Detention Center.
"Question: What does a private prison make money from?"
When Gwen asked this question, Warden Paul and his eighteen armed guards had already been webbed up and hung upside down on the outer wall.
Occupying Alpine Juvenile Detention Center had zero technical difficulty. This wasn't some high-security prison, and no one was interested in a juvenile detention center. Considering the minor threat level of juvenile offenders and labor costs, the armed guards they hired weren't professionals either.
Eighteen armed guards watching over a full five hundred juvenile offenders, plus nearly three hundred more sent by Mayor James' recent street sweep—the detention center was almost overflowing. Of course, not all of them were juvenile offenders. Besides the street kids, there were quite a few African-American, Mexican, and other illegal immigrants from who-knows-where.
The economy really was bad.
In the past, the prettiest girls would have already been sold and the strongest boys absorbed into gangs. Now there was such a backlog of inventory that even after Patty worked hard all night, the payment she received wasn't enough to buy a new designer bag. It was clear the economy was truly in the dumps—human lives were cheaper than dogs.
The two of them had also been tied up and forced to kneel at Gwen's feet.
Now, Gwen was the temporary ruler of this detention center.
All the adolescents, boys and girls alike, had been gathered in the square, looking up at the white-masked spider woman on the platform.
They still didn't quite understand what was happening, but looking at the armed guards hanging neatly like salted fish on the wall and the pile of firearms beside Gwen, the danger sense they had cultivated on the streets made them wisely keep their mouths shut.
"Answer: From you!"
Because Warden Paul's mouth was covered in webbing, Gwen answered her own question.
"You have no idea how profitable this business is. My God, let me summarize it for you—" Gwen pulled out a notebook, tapped the microphone, cleared her throat and read, "The state government allocates 1,200 dollars per juvenile offender per month—don't ask why they subsidize, that's another question. After deducting operating costs, it's 800 dollars. Hmm… so if we have 800 inmates right now, just this part alone gives a monthly net profit of 640,000 dollars. Nearly eight million a year. Even selling coke in the city doesn't make this much."
"Then you make them work six hours a day? Let me see what businesses… clothes? Furniture? Daily necessities? And marijuana? Hmm… how should I put it? Even though you only pay them ten dollars a month, at least they're learning a trade, right? How much did these contracts earn last year? Over ten million, holy shit!"
This number successfully shocked the adolescents present.
"Is it strange that I know all this?" Gwen turned to look at Warden Paul and whispered, "Because I tapped the phones at the police station and the mayor's office. I visited your office last night. I know you have a happy family and two adorable daughters who just started elementary school—one named Julie, one named Vivian. Looking at your usual spending records, besides turning over profits to the parent company, you've been lining your own pockets quite nicely, haven't you?"
"Mmmph—!" Warden Paul struggled desperately and shook his head.
"I'm a simple person. I like to keep things short." Gwen picked up a handgun from the ground, flicked off the safety, and pressed it against the side of Warden Paul's head. "I have two proposals. I'll skip the first one for now. The second proposal is—I want to take over this prison. Don't get excited, don't misunderstand, listen to me. You and your men will continue working normally as before, but you must obey my orders and keep my secrets. In return, I will help you suppress these young people and bring in even more inmates so you can exceed your performance targets and get promoted with a raise ahead of schedule. What do you think of this proposal?"
After tearing the webbing off his mouth, Warden Paul glanced at the gun muzzle right next to his head and nodded decisively. "Miss Spider, I choose the second option. This is a very fair, reasonable, and constructive proposal. I am willing to serve you."
"Wise choice." Gwen raised her hand to release the webbing and let him down, then casually smoothed the wrinkles on his suit. "Mr. Paul, next I need you to convince your men. Tell them I'm offering them extra pay on the condition of secrecy and obedience. I believe with your leadership skills you can handle them easily. If you can't…"
"There is no 'if'!" Warden Paul said righteously. "Leave it to me! They're all my people. Very reliable!"
See? This was an effective way to solve problems between adults.
Gwen tapped the microphone to regain the attention of the noisy adolescents below. "Ladies and gentlemen, now it's your turn! I have reached an agreement with Mr. Paul to take over this prison. I want to be your boss. Anyone with objections can raise your hand now… Oh right, who was your old boss? Step forward. Let's talk!"
After a commotion below, no one raised their hand.
Obviously. Looking at the armed guards hanging in neat rows, even an idiot knew not to stick their neck out right now.
Obeying the strong was an ancient traditional custom of Gotham people. By the way, so was betrayal.
A boy and a girl stepped forward.
Surprisingly, they were a handsome boy and beautiful girl who didn't look like juvenile offenders at all.
The quiet, somewhat timid and introverted blonde little beauty was named Harley Quinzel. The name sounded a bit familiar to Gwen.
The other boy, with melancholic eyes, a handsome figure, and an artistic youth vibe, was named Floyd Lawton.
What was that saying? Strange people must have extraordinary qualities! These two looked completely at home in Gotham High. The fact that they could still become bosses in a juvenile detention center said a lot.
Gwen cleared her throat, did a front flip off the platform, and walked up to the two of them. She stared at them and asked, "I want to be the boss. Any objections?"
"Absolutely none!" Quinzel shook her head quickly, smiling brightly. "I am willing to serve you, Miss Spider."
"And you?" Gwen turned to Lawton.
"Answer one question first." Lawton crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "What exactly do you want to do?"
Gwen raised the gun and pressed the muzzle against Lawton's forehead. "I want to save you pieces of social garbage. Is that okay?"
"Yes! No problem at all!"