I Told You I Wouldn't Use a Gun

On the streets of Gotham in the evening, a light rain washed over the hazy neon lights. On a rainy night like this, most people would have gone home early.

But Ma Zhaodi didn't go home, because it was nine o'clock in the evening, and his work wasn't finished yet. At this moment, he was worried if he could still get off work on time.

"Bang! Bang!"

Santos's face was contorted. He was holding a pistol, huddled behind a large, overturned round dining table with Buli Ji. The gentle and polite expressions they usually wore were gone, their foreheads bulging with veins, looking extremely ferocious.

"Bastards! How dare you cause trouble at the Red Dragon Restaurant! You're dead!"

And in the direction of the restaurant entrance, a group of burly, gun-wielding thugs were exchanging fire with the restaurant's armed waiters. It was clear they hadn't come through a reservation.

A thug wearing a gentleman's top hat and a tuxedo shouted loudly towards Santos from the entrance: "Cobblepot says hello! This is the consequence of competing with the Iceberg Restaurant for business!"

Gunfire, curses, and the laughter of madmen mingled and intertwined, tearing apart the hazy atmosphere of the rainy night with these frantic notes. Ma Zhaodi, huddled in the corner, watched the bullet-scarred wooden tabletop reveal the solid bulletproof steel plate beneath and calmly took a pocky out of his cigarette case.

Damn it, no wonder the tables in the restaurant are so damn heavy, you need several people to move them. So they were prepared for this.

Ever since he arrived in Gotham, he hadn't had a single peaceful day. It was always robberies or shootings, the least serious being theft. The most peaceful day was when he performed an exorcism for an evil spirit car with nine soul rings.

"This damn city, the people who live here are truly blessed, for a lifetime."

The restaurant he worked at was also something else, always encountering bizarre customers. Last time it was Two-Face Harvey Dent, and this time it was Cobblepot's thugs.

Similar to Mr. Freeze, his identity as the supervillain Penguin was much more well-known than his long given name, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. As part of the Cobblepot family, one of the four founding families of Gotham, his father still possessed considerable wealth when Penguin was young. However, he himself was obese and short, with a long, hooked nose, and was often envied and ostracized by his classmates because of these traits.

His father later died of pneumonia caused by exposure to the rain, and his mother became almost completely insane. The Cobblepot family thus declined, and he eventually transformed from a fallen scion into an intelligent supervillain through self-study, becoming a renowned mob boss in Gotham City. However, he himself suffered from mental illness-level inferiority complex and paranoia, and his consistent style was feigned elegance mixed with explosive anger.

As his property, the Iceberg Restaurant appeared to be a popular, normal restaurant on the surface, but in reality, it was used for underground illegal financial activities such as money laundering, as well as handling various affairs between Cobblepot and other gangs.

It was clear that "competing with the Iceberg Restaurant for business" mentioned by his subordinates likely didn't refer to the restaurant's customer traffic.

Normally, Penguin would never dare to openly challenge them, but Batman had recently dealt a significant blow to the Falcone family. The Wayne Group had taken the opportunity to seize and purge many of the grey industries that were originally under Falcone's control, forcing them to squeeze and take over Cobblepot's grey businesses in retaliation. This was something the Falcone gang had done many times before.

Clearly, the Penguin of the past would have swallowed this insult, but now, he was growing impatient with the Falcone gang, which was no longer as authoritative.

Ma Zhaodi sighed amidst the flying bullets, took a bite of the pocky stick in his mouth, and checked the cross pendant he wore under his clothes—its durability was still nine times, indicating he was lucky not to be in mortal danger.

He looked at the drizzling rain outside the window and even got a little lost in thought. The rainy nights in Gotham City had a rather cyberpunk, psychedelic flavor. Although there was also a bone-chilling coldness mixed in, he personally enjoyed watching such beautiful rainy scenes from indoors.

He really wanted to go home at this moment, buy a "happy meal for otaku," and continue binge-watching shows with this view. But in reality, the current situation was that he couldn't be sure if he could get off work from the restaurant on time and go home today.

Sigh, this is what it's like to be a worker, never having any choice.

The supervisor saw Ma Zhaodi cowering behind the table and thought he was scared stiff. He shouted in his direction: "Ma Zhaodi! Don't just stand there like an idiot! Shoot!"

"I can't!"

Ma Zhaodi didn't know if it was his imagination, but the supervisor beside him seemed to freeze for a moment the instant he shouted this.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" he widened his eyes. "This is Gotham!"

"Can't there be a few people in Gotham who can't shoot?" Ma Zhaodi protested. "The Waynes didn't even carry guns when they went out back then!"

"You should have moved to Star City long ago!" the supervisor shouted through gritted teeth. "Unlock the safety! Pull the trigger!"

Ma Zhaodi fumbled with his Beretta according to his instructions for a long time, finally figuring it out. The supervisor saw him hesitate, aim for a long time, and then put the gun down again.

"I might hit something in the store."

"Don't worry about that!" The supervisor, already anxious from watching, saw him put the gun down again and his blood pressure shot up. He roared at him, "These tables and chairs are for hitting when it matters! Shoot them!"

"You said it!"

Ma Zhaodi immediately aimed at the opposite side and pulled the trigger. The shot hit the chandelier directly above.

"Crash--"

A series of shattering sounds rang out. The huge crystal chandelier fell to the ground, scattering like water splashes, exploding into countless tiny, iridescent gemstone fragments.

"No--"

Although it was rude to say so, the supervisor's voice at this moment truly resembled a deceased acquaintance from Ma Zhaodi's memory.

It even felt like familiar music was playing in his ears.

"Snowflakes fluttering, north wind whistling--"

"Ma Zhaodi!"

The supervisor's roar suddenly rang out, pulling him back from his daze.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that chandelier was-- "

"I was aiming at the table!"

"You were aiming at--"

The supervisor hadn't been particularly angry at first, but upon hearing Ma Zhaodi's blunder of an answer, he felt another sharp pain in his heart.

At this moment, the room, which already had insufficient lighting, lost the light from the large chandelier and became even darker. Even the hazy lights outside the window and the faint moonlight filtering through the clouds were overshadowed in this corner.

Cobblepot's subordinates in the darkness heard the news of the supervisor's collapse and looked at each other in confusion.

"Did their leader fall?"

"It seems so. Should we still fight?"