Two words: The Mob.

Yep. The mob runs this town. They's situated in every corner of Gotham and always watching. They control who breathes in this city... they don't like ya, they make sure ya quit taking up their precious air.

The Italian mob's made it their business to organize home breweries in their sections of town. These home distilleries are responsible for three quarters of alcohol sold in the speakeasies across the north and south sides of Gotham. What ain't made within city limits is imported, and shipped through Gotham Docks. If the cops know about it, they's also smart enough to know to keep their mouths shut.

The Irish mob are in control of importing illegal weapons, via Sean Riley's contacts in New York City. The rise of guns on the streets of Central Gotham have tripled in the past year, and cops can't do much to control the flow. The good cops lock 'em up when they come across 'em, the bad cops put them back into the hands of criminals for the right price.

The Russian mob have their hands dirty in narcotics. The streets are swimming in illegal drugs. Can't turn around without finding some kid doped up in an alleyway. These guys use the trains running through the outskirts of New Gotham, and do a damn good job of keeping nosy people outta their business.

Prostitution and extortion are also wars the coppers just ain't winning.

Everywhere ya turn there's a speakeasy that's serving strong drinks. These juice joints is filled with fast women, gambling and the occasional gun fire. Every street corner is riddled with a deal going down. You want or need something? Chances are all ya gotta do is hit the street and a few bucks later whatever ya were seekin's been dropped in your hands.

And the coppers? They don't do much... they can't. The ones brave enough to try and stop whatever's goin' down don't last long. They either get killed dead or corrupted... and in these difficult times jobs is hard to come by. So they learn to turn a blind eye to the crime so's they can feed their families.

Not that these situations are first priority anymore. Somethin' bad is lurking in New Gotham, somethin' pure evil. Newspaper's callin' it a Jack the Ripper copycat. Been murderin' women out late at night. Man's been keeping busy, too... thirteen's been found throughout the city, each one posed in lewd manner. Ain't pretty accordin' to the coppers who've seen it. Downright disgraceful, as a matter'afact. So that's got people scared... and lotsa people won't venture out after dark.

So it ain't the happiest place on earth. But to the lot of us that call it home it's damn copacetic. Put that in yer pipe and smoke it, baby.