Lake had originally planned to go in, meet Carmine Falcone face-to-face, and have a little talk with him—conduct an interview, so to speak.
But.
That room was filled with the smell of heather.
After thinking it over, Lake decided to forget it. He simply sent Carmine Falcone a thought from afar, then took Vivian and left the chaotic neighborhood, where explosions could still be heard from time to time, returning to Wayne Manor.
The next day.
When the sun broke over the horizon, the chaotic district that had been roaring with gunfire just a second before suddenly fell completely silent. Countless gang members put away their guns, as if tacitly obeying an unwritten rule that had never even been committed to paper.
"Carmine..."
"Get lost!"
When the new morning arrived and Carmine had been untied, he looked at the younger brother who had freed him and said coldly, then walked out of the bathroom. With his bloodshot eyes, he stared at his mother as she came strutting out of the bedroom, smoking and putting on an affected display. Then, expressionless, he pushed open the door and left the house.
He couldn't stay in this home for another day.
That afternoon.
Lake and Vivian were having tea in downtown Gotham with the patriarch of the Kane family, chatting and laughing, when Lake subtly raised an eyebrow.
The seed he had planted the previous night had finally been buried in the soil.
In fact, Lake hadn't done anything to Carmine the previous day. He had merely sent him a thought, much like how people occasionally experienced a sudden whim. Lake had sent Carmine the thought: If you seek opportunity, look to Gotham Harbor's thirty-seventh storage warehouse.
Inside, if Carmine went there and opened it, he would find a cluster of memories that