Trade

After seeing Scarecrow off, Penguin let out a long breath and slumped back into his seat. Having Joker and Scarecrow show up one after another tonight had left him feeling nervous and exhausted.

Back in his office, he picked up his milk again. It had gone from hot to cold, with only a quarter left.

Penguin decided that once he finished it, he would call it a night.

He picked up the cup.

He brought it to his lips.

If nothing unexpected happened, then something unexpected was about to happen.

But nothing happened.

Penguin breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

That was right. Joker had broken in earlier, and Scarecrow had just broken in. Surely no one else would break in this time, right?

He calmly gulped the milk into his mouth, and then, the next second—

One of his men stumbled into his office in a panic, tripped once again on the immaculate carpet, and nearly fell flat on his face.

"Bad news, boss! It's Bane! Bane is here!"

The milk sprayed out through his hooked nose again.

Ten minutes later.

Penguin wore a foul expression as he walked with Bane across the rooftop of the Iceberg Lounge.

"Come with me, Penguin."

Seeing that Penguin had no intention of speaking, Bane took the initiative. His voice sounded as though there were a hole in his throat, and it carried an abnormal tremor that made Penguin shudder.

Strange. That voice sounded like the pathological reaction caused by inhaling Joker's specially made laughing gas.

Penguin thought silently. After spending so many years in Gotham, he had practically come to regard encountering lunatics suffering from the Joker Virus on the street as part of daily life. Naturally, he was very familiar with it.

"I know Scarecrow visited you, didn't he?"

Penguin had originally planned to tell a lie, but there was no point.

He was not sure how Bane knew that Scarecrow had only been here a few minutes ago.

So he said:

"That's right, he came, as usual. Crane kept lamenting over and over, as if the world belonged to him. Creating fear is his old trade, but he's also the person most easily scared out of his wits."

"You have quite a few complaints about him, yet you still move between both sides. That's your nature," Bane replied. A rational light flickered in his eyes.

"Self-interest is the purest motive. I believe in it and rely on it. Every city is ruled by self-interest."

"I know your family's history in this city, Cobblepot. I understand how deeply you care for her bricks, her mortar, and her steel. You're not like those wavering, opportunistic Gotham freaks. They always want to win her without making sacrifices, only to be defeated beneath Batman's shadow."

Bane said, "Just like you, I understand how much hardship this requires. I also know what it feels like to be toyed with in someone else's palm. I understand that feeling of despair that leaves you constantly on edge."

He continued, "This city has failed the men and women who built her. They worked hard, only to end up as corpses in the streets. That is this city's law, as natural as anything."

His voice drifted through Gotham's evening breeze.

"—It is the inevitable price of progress. Without tearing down the old buildings, the new ones cannot be built. Death is merely one part of the natural order. Believe me, when it comes to death, I've only just experienced it myself."

Penguin cursed inwardly:

Bullshit. Did you just die once before or something?

Though he thought that, Penguin's gaze remained fixed on the green shoots sprouting from the other half of Bane's body.

Those green shoots should have been bringing new life to the dead wood of a century-old tree, not growing from Bane's biceps.

"I came to see you almost completely unprepared, Bane, because I know that, for now, we still need each other." Penguin had no mood to waste time reminiscing.

He said:

"You're accustomed to changing sides with the wind, Penguin, while I will remain firm and loyal to the end."

Bane placed both massive hands on Penguin's shoulders. Penguin had no doubt that if Bane wished, those hands could snap his neck the very next second.

"You're under suspicion from both me and those Arkham people."

"Yes, well, it's a talent. I don't think using every means necessary is shameful—"

But Penguin saw that Bane was no longer paying attention to him. He stood at the edge of the rooftop, silently observing the cool city in the evening breeze.

"It is both chaotic and orderly, organized and anarchic. The struggles between them are the true culprit that has tormented Gotham City for these past decades. It was this way long before you and I. It was this way long before Batman."

"For so many years, Gotham has continued to rot and stink in the mud, while Arkham Asylum is the city's largest gathering place for viruses."

"And now it is time for us to eliminate this mental cancer that has drained the entire city dry."

"I will give Gotham City something it truly needs—a firm direction."

"And you, Cobblepot. I need you to provide me with information on Blackgate Penitentiary. When the Arkham people turn to you for shelter, you will provide me with their intelligence, and even join my faction."

"Information and opportunities are your work, while smiling daggers will become your merciless hand."

Penguin fearlessly met the towering freak's gaze. "But I'd rather stand by and watch, Bane. I've already guessed what you want to do to Blackgate Penitentiary. That's why I've been wasting time talking to you."

"There's something there that interests me. Something you can provide with a simple favor while you hold a high position."

Penguin pinched the brim of his hat. "His name is Ignatius Ogilvy."

"He was once my right-hand man, Emperor Penguin. I treated him like my own son. Heh heh heh..."

Penguin lowered his head and laughed, but when he raised it again, the smile was rapidly pulled from his face like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"He was someone who once tried to replace me."

"I still have plenty to repay him for. He owes me a life... that recklessly squandered life of his. Bring him to me."

Bane agreed.

"Bruce, are you really sure about this?" Lucius Fox was the president and chief technology officer of the Wayne Group. He was Batman's personal scientist, one of his most trusted people, and one of the few who knew Batman's true identity.

"A completely sealed tempered-glass container. Once it's closed, it can never be opened again. It will be sealed tight inside, with multiple layers of sealing, so not even a trace of gas can escape?"

Lucius repeatedly confirmed Chen Tao's requirements. "It will be equipped with high-tech devices powerful enough to reduce a living person to quark-level particles, killing them in an instant and preventing any possibility of resurrection?"

The scientist could not help complaining inwardly. Who could revive after being reduced to quark-level particles?

And what did he think a quark was, ice cream bought downstairs? Or some new browser?

So he could only rub his aching head. "Quark-level is impossible, but killing the person inside the glass coffin directly isn't a problem. The only issue is—"

"Bruce, are you really prepared to murder someone?"