After finally shaking off the persistent reporters, the Penguin got into the car headed for the hospital. The car turned a corner and stopped in front of the hospital. The door opened, and the moment one polished leather shoe touched the ground, the Penguin saw a dense crowd outside holding signs. They read: "Hell is where you belong," "Satan walks among men," and "Death, death, only death."
The Penguin reflexively drew back his neck and pulled his foot back into the car. He sat there for a moment to calm himself, thinking that he would not lower himself to their level.
He had been a mob boss for so many years. What kind of curses had he not heard? If curses worked, the grass on his grave would be three meters tall by now. If they wanted to curse him, let them curse.
So he adjusted his tie again, took a deep breath, and walked out with his umbrella in hand.
The next second, a tidal wave of cheers engulfed him.
"Long live the mayor!!!"
"Hero! Hero! Hero!!!"
"Well done!!!"
"This is what Wayne deserves! Long live the mayor!!!"
"You sent that rich bastard back to Hell! He deserved this lesson! Well done, Mayor!!"
The Penguin froze where he stood.
Then he suddenly realized something.
Earlier, Bruce had made a colossal mess. He had fallen into the Joker's trap and let go of the hand he was using to save someone in full view of everyone. With the media and public opinion fanning the flames, the debate surrounding the matter had grown increasingly intense.
New Jersey was a staunch blue state. Few of its citizens adhered to traditional moral values; most supported neoliberalism, and there was no shortage of white liberal do-gooders. Thus, public opinion was currently almost unanimously condemning