Party and Umbrella (Final)

Cobblepot looked around. He glanced first at the gun on Gordon's waist, then at the lingering coldness emanating from Batman, and finally at his own right arm, still broken and strapped to the armrest of his hospital bed. He sighed and said:

"It is true that I killed the old umbrella maker Wiggins, but I am not a thief or a robber. This umbrella should have been mine."

As Cobblepot's voice rang out, the mystery was gradually revealed.

"My father, Old Man Cobblepot., was once the head of the Cobblepot family, one of the four Four Great Families in the East End. Back then, the East End was very prosperous, Four Great Families controlled dozens of streets in the East End. The most central street was Green Street, which is now next to Living Hell. Our old house was once spacious and luxurious."

"I've heard Brock mention this history," Gordon said, leaning back on the table. "But what does that have to do with you killing an innocent umbrella maker?"

"Innocent? He's not innocent at all!"

Cobblepot scoffed and said, "Well, you should also know that a few years ago, Old Umbrella Master Wiggins was the One handmade umbrella maker in Gotham City."

"Even now," Gordon said, looking at Schiller. "This profession doesn't need many people; not many people would spend a lot of money to buy a handmade umbrella."

"But back then, gang leaders in the East District would all go to the Vickin Umbrella Shop to order a handmade umbrella."

"You might think this is just about appreciating handmade products or showing off one's status..."

"Isn't that so? Because handmade products have a long production cycle, are slow, and have small output, they are often sold at high prices, but in reality, their quality is not better than machine-made products." Batman also turned his gaze to Schiller.

Cobblepot shook his head and said, "You don't understand."

"My father also ordered an umbrella from the Vickin Umbrella Shop, but the umbrella maker broke his promise. He took my father's money but didn't deliver the umbrella on time, so my father got soaked in the rain and died of pneumonia..."

"This is absurd!" Gordon looked at Cobblepot as if he were crazy. "You're not going to say that you killed the umbrella maker to avenge your father, are you?"

He held out his hand and said, "Fine, I admit that it was wrong of the old umbrella maker to take the money but not deliver the goods on time. But your father was just waiting for this one umbrella? He'd rather get soaked than use it if he didn't get it?"

Cobblepot stared at Gordon darkly and said, "That's why I said you don't understand anything."

"Who said my father didn't bring an umbrella when he went out? He did, but those umbrellas were useless."

Gordon looked at Cobblepot like he was crazy, but Cobblepot didn't seem to care. He closed his eyes, as if recalling something, and said, "My father knew things that others didn't. He investigated these things, things I can't describe..."

Then he opened his eyes, looked firmly into Gordon's eyes, and said, "There's something wrong with the rain in Gotham."

"That's what he told me: when you're going to prepare an umbrella for rainy days in Gotham, you'd better buy one from Vickin Umbrella Shop, otherwise it's useless."

Gordon frowned and asked in confusion, "What do you mean? You mean... only umbrellas sold by Vickin Umbrella Shop can keep out Gotham's rain?? What kind of theory is that? How are factory-made umbrellas any worse than handmade ones? Aren't they all just meant to cover the body?"

Schiller and Batman, however, sensed something different. They exchanged a glance, and Batman asked, "Are you saying there's something wrong with the rain in Gotham, and only the umbrellas sold by Vickin Umbrella Shop can actually keep out the rain?"

Cobblepot and said, "I don't know if you've heard, but not everyone can buy the umbrellas from Vickin Umbrella Shop. Some people can, and some people can't."

"This means that some people want to keep some people out of the rain while others get wet."

"But what's the point?" Gordon still didn't understand. The issues they were discussing were completely out of step with his values and seemed more like some kind of secret code.

Schiller touched his chin with his finger and asked, "Then what happened to your father? Why did he buy an umbrella but still get wet in the rain?"

"I don't know," Cobblepot answered very simply. "All I know is that on the day he was supposed to receive the umbrella, he didn't get it, but something forced him to go out. He knew it might be dangerous, but he still had to go."

"What is it?"

"The Old Godfather's eldest son has died, and my father is going to the funeral."

"Do you think your father died because he didn't have an umbrella to truly shield him from the rain?"

"That's right, that's why I said this umbrella should have been mine. My father paid for it, but he didn't receive it and even lost his life because of it."

Schiller frowned, and then exchanged a glance with Batman; clearly, they were both thinking of the same thing.

"So, you killed the umbrella maker to avenge your father?" Gordon asked Cobblepot.

Before Cobblepot could answer, Batman said, "No, he wasn't. He wasn't after revenge."

Gordon turned to look at Batman, but before he could ask, Schiller nudged Gordon with his umbrella and said, "Don't ask. All you need to know is that he's an absolute expert when it comes to revenge."

Then he turned to Cobblepot and said, "You're not exactly a vengeful person. You value things that bring you tangible benefits more."

Cobblepot snorted and said, "That's right, I'm not doing it for my father, but for my mother."

"That's why I keep asking you, Doctor, can this disease really be cured?"

What do you mean?

"I suspect my mother's illness might be... a curse," Cobblepot said somberly.

"A curse? Tell me more."

"Before my mother first fell ill, she asked me for help. I don't remember what she said, but at that time, she was conscious and kept Calling for Help."

"Finally, on the eve of her madness, she said to me, 'Umbrella, get the umbrella back, you must take the umbrella...'"

"I had known about my father's research for a long time, but it wasn't until then that I realized his death might not have been just an accident. He was the one who was abandoned, without an umbrella, without shelter from the rain, and therefore unable to survive."

"My mother has gone mad. Whenever I mention anything about my father to her, she starts convulsing, hides in fear, and can't say anything useful."

"You suspect that your father and mother may have known something, which is why one was killed and the other was cursed, right?"

"Did your father tell you that there was something wrong with the rain in Gotham?" Batman asked Cobblepot.

"He mentioned it, but more importantly, I corroborated it all." Cobblepot struggled to sit up in bed and said, "You upper-class people and rich folks wouldn't notice the changes in Living Hell."

"Haven't you noticed that the order there has improved a lot?"

"Of course we found it," Gordon said. "The frequency of murders there has decreased significantly because people's living conditions have improved..."

"Stop talking nonsense. Aren't there plenty of rich bad Gotham?" Cobblepot interrupted Gordon. "Back then, the inhabitants of the Living Hell drank water from wells, you know, those open-air wells."

"But now it's different. After the renovation, their drinking water will all go through underground water purifiers..."

"That's the crux of the problem." Cobblepot looked at Schiller and said, "I don't understand any psychological theories, but I know that it's very difficult to change a person's bad habits. If all the inhabitants of the Living Hell are born bad, then improving their living conditions cannot change them so thoroughly."

"I've witnessed firsthand how chaotic and insane the people there were, but since the Living Hell was transformed, they seem like completely different people. Although they still follow the gangster ways, they are obviously much more normal."

"Do you think it's because their drinking water might have been contaminated with Gotham's rainwater?" Batman asked.

"That's right. In fact, I tried to investigate water purifiers several times with the help of Fish's people, but I was unsuccessful. The thing is too complicated. I couldn't figure out how it works just from some descriptions of its appearance."

Schiller looked at Batman and saw that Batman was thinking. As a time traveler, he knew that this might be the Truth, at least it had been mentioned in some comics. The reason why Gotham was so chaotic was because there was a special substance in the water cycle that could drive people insane.

But he couldn't say it directly; he had to reason it out. So he tapped the table to get everyone's attention and said, "Let's analyze this chain of logic."

"Oswald said that there was something wrong with the rain in Gotham, that it could change people's personalities, and that the umbrella sold by umbrella maker Wiggins was the One tool that could effectively keep people out of the rain."

"Assuming this is true, then umbrella maker Wiggins has the ability to make umbrellas that can withstand this kind of rain, but he sells them to some people and refuses to sell them to others. What is his purpose?"

"Maybe he just can't keep up?" Gordon guessed. "After all, making an umbrella by hand must be quite slow, right?"

"There weren't many people who would buy umbrellas to begin with," Cobblepot said. "He's selling them for such high prices, how many people could afford them? Ten years ago, even at tens of thousands of dollars, only the top gang leaders in the East District could afford them. Even if he made one a month, in a year, it would be enough to equip all the gang leaders in the East District with an umbrella."

"So he's doing this for selection," Batman's voice came through. "This logic forms a closed loop."

"Someone behind the scenes somehow caused the rain to be problematic in Gotham, and then controlled an umbrella maker to sell useful umbrellas to some people, allowing some to use them while leaving others to get wet... What will this lead to?"

He muttered to himself, "Some people are trying to maintain order, while others are descending into chaos and madness..."

"Or rather..." Schiller sighed and said, "One group is creating wealth for them, while another group keeps the city in perpetual turmoil, forever shrouded in darkness."

"Now there's only one question left: who are they?" Cobblepot's tone was icy. Even if he wasn't someone driven by revenge like Batman, in the Penguin's eyes, the organization that had destroyed his family must pay the price.

At that moment, Schiller, holding an umbrella, walked to the bedside, looked at Cobblepot, and gave a somewhat chilling smile, saying:

"No wonder they knew I was the one who caused all the changes; they'd been watching me all along."

Cobblepot stared at him silently. Schiller turned the umbrella in his hand, then held the middle of it, extending the handle to Cobblepot, and said, "Mr. Cobblepot..."

"It's called the Court of Owls. Grab your umbrella and take them down."

Today's 10,000-word article is delivered!

Aha! You didn't expect that, did you!