Finalizing the plan

This was not the first time something like this had happened with Maroni.

Back at the Glacier Club, his affinity bar had also risen after William talked back to him.

This guy...

Was he a masochist?

The truth was not quite as dramatic as William imagined, but it was not far off.

Maroni was not a good father and knew absolutely nothing about raising children. He habitually brought intimidation, abuse, and obedience tests into his parenting, producing a sensitive, self-abasing waste of space like Charloes, who knew only how to obey.

But what Maroni really wanted was a successor like himself, someone who had clawed his way out of blood-soaked streets with shards of glass embedded all over his body.

That was where the contradiction arose. He enjoyed dominating his offspring, yet subconsciously hoped they would resist, perhaps even stage an Oedipus-style patricide.

William could not fathom Maroni's mindset, but he seemed to have found a way to survive.

Fight back!

"You dare look at me like that?!"

"No wonder Falcone keeps you under his thumb. You're not even in the same league as him!"

William opened with his biggest weapon, striking Maroni right where it hurt.

Enraged, Maroni pressed his gun against William's forehead, while the affinity bar above his head lurched up and down like a drop tower.

"You think I wouldn't dare kill you? You're worth absolutely nothing to me!!!"

"Go on, shoot! Remember who I am now, then think about the consequences!"

Maroni certainly did not dare pull the trigger. Batman was back in action, and William was a cop. Even if Maroni had not committed the crime, Norman would find some way to pin it on him.

"I honestly feel sorry for you. You don't even trust me, your own flesh and blood. Who can you trust?"

Of course, William was not about to truly push him over the edge. A seemingly defiant retort that expressed loyalty was his best option.

"Come on, shoot!"

William simply stood up and seized the barrel pressed against his forehead.

His bloodshot eyes and the savage expression of a rabid dog were reflected in Maroni's eyes.

For a moment, the man's expression turned dazed.

Inside the cramped rental room, the atmosphere turned ice-cold.

At last, Maroni moved.

He reached out and pried William's fingers loose one by one.

"Enough. I won't come here again... You're right. The man on the ground always has more say... From now on, aside from the regular weekly reports, I won't assign you any more impromptu jobs... Do you have enough money?"

The proud Maroni would not apologize. A softening of his tone usually meant he was backing down.

William did not want to drag this out any longer either, so he moved aside.

Only after the man's tall frame squeezed through the doorway did he slump back onto the bed.

Not long afterward, Stuart walked in carrying a training bag.

"I bought dinner. Chicken sandwiches."

When William did not respond, he turned and looked questioningly at the despondent figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

As far as he knew, William was not someone who lost heart easily.

"Did Maroni scare you out of your wits?"

"No... Wait, how did you know?"

"Don't ask stupid questions. He left too many traces."

Before entering, Stuart had noticed the violently smashed door lock and the large footprints left on the floor. Of course, the decisive evidence was the overpowering smell of cologne.

The private room at the Glacier Club had been filled with that same scent.

"I also think that since he's gone and you're still alive, you've handled the problem adequately. So what exactly is bothering you?"

"His existence is a huge threat to me. I want to... kill him."

William raised his head and met Stuart's eyes.

Stuart was not surprised in the slightest.

But his focus was different from William's.

As he pulled on the Batsuit, Stuart offered his friend some advice.

"It's too early to kill your biological father. Wouldn't you rather inherit his criminal empire before making your move? It's a good deal. You only have one rival..."

William made a time-out gesture.

He really could not handle Stuart spouting such monstrous ideas while pulling a Batman mask over his head.

It was too horrifying!

Still, it was an excellent suggestion. William had long since had enough of scraping by as a lowly cop. If he could use the affinity system to inherit Maroni's assets, he could solve his money problems once and for all.

Of course, looking at the bigger picture, he could also contribute to Gotham's stability along the way.

"Don't come out with me tonight. Take some time to plan your next steps."

Fully suited up, Stuart cast a long, slender silhouette in the moonlight.

When he simply stood there, he strongly evoked Batman. But the moment he opened his mouth, evil seemed to seep through the gaps in his armor.

Could Bruce's personality ever come back?

William watched him leap out the window.

But he soon rallied.

Whatever happened, he needed to sort out the "system save" first. Then he would have some room to maneuver the next time his life was threatened.

At almost the same moment, at an abandoned chemical plant in the old industrial district.

An old Ford sat beneath a flickering streetlight.

The windows were fogged over, and a cigarette poked through the gap at the top.

"We've been waiting for two hours. Why aren't they here yet?"

"Wait a little longer. Be patient. This deal is very important to Mr. Maroni."

The cigarette withdrew into the car. When it emerged again, it was noticeably shorter.

"This is your only chance, too. If we pull this off, you can stop serving drinks and waiting tables, and I'll be able to afford my rent."

Headlights shone on the dark road ahead.

"They're here. Take the stuff and get out."

The car door opened, and a sharp gust of cold wind tousled Oswald's greasy long hair.

He made a couple of hasty attempts to fix it in the side mirror.

In the driver's seat, George narrowed his eyes and lit another cigarette.

The ashtray was already crammed with cigarette butts.

He was not usually such a heavy smoker.

What did people live for?

He wanted to find the answer to that question.

A brief flash lit up beyond the foggy glass. Almost simultaneously, shrill gunfire echoed down the deserted street.

Bang!

"Was it to meet other people's expectations, or to fulfill their own potential?"

Bang!

Another gunshot.

"But I don't seem to have achieved either."

George thought of his mother, who had died of cancer three years earlier. He had promised to earn enough to pay for her treatment, but in the end, he had even needed to borrow money from his boss for her funeral.

The gunfire grew more intense, its scattered flashes hammering against his thoughts like raindrops.

Bang!

Bang, bang!

Bang...

The gunfire came to an end.

A staggering figure approached the car and knocked impatiently on the glass.

When the window rolled down, Oswald stood there clutching his bleeding shoulder.

"Those bastards... They started shooting right away. They weren't here to make a deal at all. Good thing I came prepared!"

His voice carried the wild elation of having narrowly escaped death.

"I suspect Maroni wants me dead. This was an operation aimed at me..."

His words cut off abruptly.

A cold gun barrel was already pressed against his forehead.

His pupils contracted, his gaze focusing on George in the driver's seat, a cigarette butt between his lips.

"Why..."

"My friend, you even suspected Mr. Maroni. Why didn't you think to suspect me while you were at it?"