Transaction

After seeing Scarecrow out, Penguin let out a sigh of relief and slumped back into his seat. The Joker and Scarecrow taking turns tonight had left him feeling utterly drained.

Back in his office, he picked up his milk again. It had gone from hot to cold, and only a quarter of it remained.

Penguin decided he'd call it a night after finishing this drink.

He picked up the cup.

He brought his lips close to the rim.

If nothing unexpected happened, this was usually when the unexpected would occur.

But nothing did.

Penguin let out a breath and chuckled.

That's right, the Joker had barged in earlier, Scarecrow had just left, and this time, surely no one else would burst in?

He took a relaxed gulp of milk, and the very next second...

A henchman stumbled into his office, his face a mask of terror, tripping on the pristine carpet once again.

"It's bad, boss! It's Bane! Bane is here!"

The milk sprayed out of his aquiline nose once more.

Ten minutes later.

Penguin, with a scowl on his face, walked with Bane across the rooftop of the Iceberg Lounge.

"Follow me, Penguin."

Seeing that Penguin seemed disinclined to speak, Bane spoke first. His voice sounded like a hole had been ripped in his throat, with an unnatural tremor that made Penguin shiver.

Strange, that voice sounded like the pathological reaction one would have after inhaling Joker's special laughing gas.

Penguin thought to himself. After so many years in Gotham, he'd almost become accustomed to encountering lunatics suffering from the Joker's virus on the streets, so he was naturally very familiar with it.

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

Penguin had considered lying, but it was pointless.

He wasn't sure how Bane knew Scarecrow had been there just minutes ago.

So he replied:

"That's right, he came by, as usual. Crane lamented endlessly, as if the world belonged to him. Spreading fear is his trade, but he's also the one most easily scared witless."

"You have your reservations about him, yet you still play both sides. That's your nature," Bane replied, his eyes gleaming with a rational light. "Self-interest is the purest motive. I believe him, rely on him. Every city is governed by self-interest."

"I'm aware of your family's history in this city, Cobblepot. I understand how deeply you feel for her brickwork, her mortar, her steel. You're not like those opportunistic Gotham freaks who always want to win her without sacrifice, only to be defeated in Batman's shadow."

Bane continued, "Like you, I understand the hardship it takes. I also know what it feels like to be toyed with, to feel that despair like a sharp thorn in your back."

He said, "This city has failed the men and women who built her. They worked hard only to end up dead in the streets. And this is the law of this city, as it should be."

His voice drifted on the Gotham night wind.

"--This is the inevitable cost of progress. Old buildings must be torn down for new ones to be built. Death is merely a part of the natural order. Believe me, I've just had a recent experience with death."

Penguin inwardly scoffed:

Bullshit, did you just die and come back to life again?

Despite his thoughts, Penguin's gaze lingered on the green shoots sprouting from Bane's other arm.

These sprouts should have been rejuvenating a century-old tree, not growing on Bane's bicep.

"I came to you almost completely defenseless, Bane, because I know that, for now, we still need each other," Penguin said, not in the mood to dwell on sentimentality.

He spoke.

"You're accustomed to changing your sails with the wind, Penguin, while I will remain steadfast."

Bane placed his large hands on Penguin's shoulders. He had no doubt that if the man wished it, those hands could snap his neck in the next second.

"You are suspected by both me and those Arkhamites."

"Yes, uh, it's a talent. I don't think being unscrupulous 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 night wind.

"It is both chaotic and orderly, organized and anarchic. The constant tug-of-war between them is the true culprit that has plagued Gotham City for decades. It was like this long before you and I, long before Batman."

"For so many years, Gotham has festered and rotted in the mud, and Arkham Asylum is the city's largest breeding ground for disease."

"And it is time for us to eradicate this mental tumor that has drained the entire city."

"I will give Gotham City something it truly needs--a clear direction."

"And you, Cobblepot. I need you to provide me with information on Blackgate Penitentiary, and when the Arkhamites seek refuge with you, to provide me with their intelligence, even to join my ranks."

"Intelligence and opportunity will be your work, and treachery will be your ruthless method."

Penguin met the gaze of the hulking freak without fear. "But I prefer to stand by and watch, Bane. I've already guessed what you intend to do with Blackgate Penitentiary, which is why I'm wasting my breath talking to you. There's something I'm interested in there, something you can easily provide when you're in a position of power."

Penguin adjusted the brim of his hat. "His name is Ignatius Ogilvy. He was my right-hand man, Emperor Penguin, I treated him like a son. Hehehe..."

Penguin lowered his head and laughed, but when he looked up, the smile on his face was quickly pulled away, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"He's someone who tried to replace me."

"I still have a lot to give back to him, he owes me a life... that life he squandered. You will bring him to me."

Bane agreed.

"Bruce, have you truly made your decision?" Lucius Fox, the president and chief technology officer of Wayne Enterprises, was Batman's personal scientist, one of his most trusted confidants, and one of the few who knew Batman's true identity.

"A completely sealed tempered glass tank, once closed, it can never be opened again, completely sealed inside, multi-layered sealing, not even a bit of gas will leak out?"

Lucius repeatedly confirmed the request with Chen Tao. "It's equipped with high-tech devices capable of reducing a living person to quark-level, enough to kill someone in an instant, eliminating any possibility of resurrection?"

The scientist couldn't help but inwardly complain. Who could possibly be resurrected after being reduced to quark-level particles?

And what did he think quarks were, some new ice cream flavor from downstairs? Or a new browser?

So, he could only scratch his head with a headache. "Quark-level is impossible, but killing the person in the glass coffin directly is no problem. The only issue is..."

"Bruce, are you truly prepared to commit murder?"