Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 29: Ch.28 Fading Honor

In today's Gotham, perhaps only Falcone would still refer to Penguin as the "little cripple."

There was no malice or emotion behind his words. It was as if he were talking about a wayward relative in his family. It was just two old friends chatting about everyday things, with no reservations.

Gordon frowned, puzzled by Falcone's intentions. After kidnapping him with dozens of guns, was he really just here to catch up?

Falcone took a sip of his drink, then sat back in his chair with a sigh.

"After I came back, I looked at her territory. I have to say, she's far worse than her mother. It's embarrassing for me as her uncle."

"Penguin..."

"Yes, everyone now calls her Penguin. She even embraces that nickname. But she's forgotten that she should be Miss Cobblepot, not defined by that name derived from her limp." Falcone leaned back on the sofa, gently twirling the ring on his finger.

"She's different from you," Gordon said, taking a sip of his drink. Facing Falcone, he needed a way to calm himself and think clearly.

"Yes, that's why I spared the Cobblepot family back then. She's cunning but useful. I thought she had a bright future." Falcone smiled as he reminisced, looking up at the dark ceiling as if gazing at the sky. "But she's lost too much ground over the years, even letting new families rise up. That's her biggest mistake. Look, she even allowed the Yakuza to enter Gotham."

"The Yakuza entered under the guise of legitimate businesses, using investment as a front. But one day, I'll bring them to justice."

Gordon knew about these Japanese gangsters. Most of the biker gangs in Gotham now were theirs, involved in illegal street racing and drug trafficking. He just needed more evidence, and he'd been working hard to get it.

Falcone nodded, waving a hand slightly in Gordon's direction.

"Yes, I understand, but this wasn't supposed to be your job. You stand in the light, and this should've been Miss Cobblepot's responsibility." Falcone's next words shattered Gordon's worldview: "Before I left, I met with her. I protected her family and territory so she could assist you, and she agreed."

"What—" Gordon was shocked. What was going on?

"You're a police officer, and you can arrest any criminal. But when people like the Yakuza, disguised in legal garb, enter Gotham, aren't you powerless against them?" Falcone spoke calmly, as if he'd anticipated everything. "So I left Cobblepot behind. When darkness you can't handle appears, she can take care of it the way the underworld does. But she..."

Falcone shook his head, laughing as he looked at Gordon. His ring tapped against his glass, producing a clear sound.

"Her management now is a complete mess. She's like a frightened rabbit. I can tolerate Black Mask and Hush's rise. The Sionis family and the Elliot family have deep roots in Gotham, even though these youngsters are a bit crazy." The Roman spoke with dissatisfaction, his words quickly and forcefully, though his voice was not loud. But the pressure emanating from him was immense: "But Red Hood, Two-Face, the Mudface Gang, and dozens of other small groups—what are they? They have no honor, no rules!"

A lion, even when old, is still a lion. This kind of authority was something Gordon had only ever seen in Falcone.

And Falcone wasn't even angry now; he was merely voicing some mild complaints.

Yes, the new forces popping up now were more like groups of madmen dealing in dark trades. Almost none of them were sane.

They weren't interested in business but in chaos.

Gordon was still trying to process this shocking news. It felt like everything in his life was being manipulated by the old man in front of him, and he was trying to figure out Falcone's motives.

Falcone looked at him, then said, "And you—Cobblepot was only moving some goods in her territory, and it was just an arms trade. Why do you keep raiding her places? Has she ever caused you trouble? Has she ever threatened Gotham's safety?"

Arms trading under the Amazonian rule was legal. To them, weapons were mere tools; the warriors wielding them were what mattered. So, as long as the weapons' origins and destinations were reported to the council, anyone could trade in them.

A coward with a gun still couldn't beat a brave warrior with a stick, so in the Amazons' eyes, selling arms was like selling wood.

The Amazonian Council ruled the world, with millions of the strongest warriors on the ground, many of whom possessed divine powers. What did they have to fear?

It was just that Penguin's business involved large quantities of weapons, and she never reported them.

Technically, it was a minor infraction because all she had to do was submit a form and pay some extra taxes. But saying it was legal wasn't entirely accurate either, since she was missing some procedures.

She was more like Gotham's "gray area" boss, doing things that were ambiguous.

Unfortunately for Penguin, as the only descendant of the ten major families, who had a blood feud with Bryce, Batwoman was watching her every move. Penguin couldn't even sell a boatload of fish without paying taxes, and Batwoman would send Gordon every lead.

Gordon was an honest man, with a constant stream of evidence provided by Bryce. Naturally, the place he raided most often was Penguin's territory.

To be honest, Penguin might be short and walk comically, but she was very clever and utterly unscrupulous.

Flattery and bootlicking were her forte. She followed the old family ways while adopting the methods of the new powers.

She didn't need honor but remembered the rules.

Penguin rarely caused trouble for Gordon directly. Most of the time, she focused on running her restaurant. If she saw him on the road, she'd enthusiastically invite him to dinner, loudly describing the day's lobster and salmon's authenticity and freshness at busy intersections.

Gordon would always roll up his car window quickly, blocking out her endless chatter, and drive away. But Penguin never minded. The next time they met, she'd recommend new dishes.

She had close relationships with many city officials, and the Iceberg Lounge was the most popular spot in town. Every night, the city's elites gathered there, and she mingled smoothly among them.

It was just like how the ten families operated back in the day, and Gordon didn't like that atmosphere.

"Because she broke the law." Gordon said to Falcone.

"I know. You're just that kind of person—you can't tolerate any blemish, haha." Falcone laughed again, picking up a white handkerchief to dab at his mouth. "But I also know it's that little girl from the Wayne family egging you on, right? She's always hated us."

"Because you killed her parents."

"It wasn't just us... The Waynes were also founders of this city. We shared the prosperity and wealth of Gotham. She should have become an outstanding entrepreneur or a leader, not this... not who she is today." Falcone looked guilty. Bryce's parents were also his friends, and they often watched plays together.

"A hero today?" Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"A lunatic today," Falcone looked up, his old eyes scrutinizing Gordon as if peering into his soul.

"Tell me, Gordon, do you still think Bryce is normal? Dressed in that costume, flying around the city, unleashing her inner fears... spreading that fear to her enemies, reflecting it back on herself. Is that normal?"

Gordon's lips moved slightly, as if dryness had made him speechless. He wanted to say something but found himself unable to utter a word.

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