Falcone's Bearing

Falcone's rule, seen from today's perspective, had been a dictatorship steeped in dark violence.

No matter what business you ran in Gotham, you had to pay protection money to the families led by Falcone. Otherwise, you would not survive in this city for even a day.

Of course, the reason it could be called order was that this protection money could easily be renamed a management fee or something similar. After all, Gotham had already become a city of crime families.

But this brought a problem as well: in this city, the rich grew richer while the poor grew poorer. After all, the lower one stood in society, the more one was exploited.

Like in the ocean, where big fish ate little fish, little fish ate shrimp, and shrimp ate sludge.

And in the Gotham of that time, over ninety percent of people did not even count as sludge. They could only struggle to survive in the most ordinary jobs. After handing over their protection money each month, what remained was barely enough to keep them alive, so they could continue making money for the major families the next month.

Everyone was rushed and numb, living the same day over and over. Under strict surveillance, they did whatever they were told to do, no matter what it was.

The slightest disobedience would bring a beating or something even more terrifying. Their homes might be set on fire, they might be sprayed with Submachine Gun fire in the street, or their whole family might be tied to concrete blocks and sunk into the sea. Everyone lived beneath this dark terror.

You could not even own anything they took a fancy to. They would take everything.

Your husband was handsome? Taken.

Your bicycle was good quality? Taken.

Your sofa fabric was nice and soft? Taken.

Though these things were not done by the Falcone Family, but mostly by insignificant little scum, their small forces clung to larger ones, and those larger forces clung to still greater ones, until they all ultimately belonged to the Ten Families.

Elsewhere, if you asked children what they wanted to be when they grew up, their answers would surely vary. Some wanted to be scientists, some priests, some firefighters.

But in Gotham back then, there was only one answer—boss.

Because the only way for children to rise above their station was to join the darkness, follow a good boss, become the kind of person they had hated most as children, and climb step by step through every kind of dark deed.

At that time, more than half of Gotham's officials accepted political donations from the Ten Families. The other half lived under all manner of threats and intimidation. It was, without question, a city without hope.

It was then that the discharged James Gordon returned to the city and became a homicide detective. The first case he took was the shooting of Bliss Wayne's parents in an alley.

He comforted the young Bliss and promised her that he would get to the bottom of it all and bring justice to her parents.

But every clue pointed toward the Ten Families. During the investigation, he encountered countless things that showed him the terrifying undercurrents lurking in the darkness.

Strictly speaking, Gordon's life had been fairly good back then as a homicide detective.

As a police officer, he did not need to pay protection money, and the thugs would not go out of their way to trouble the police.

After all, in the eyes of the Ten Families, Gotham was their city, and the police within it maintained public order for their families. Why would their own people need to pay protection money?

Although Gordon had been born in Gotham, he had seen the outside world. That vibrant, colorful world was nothing like Gotham, which was forever gray and gloomy. He could not accept his city being like this.

He intended to bring every villain to justice and let Gotham see the light again.

Even though half the bowl in his hands bore the Falcone name, and it was always filled with the finest dishes.

But he was not doing this for himself. He was doing it for more poor and suffering people.

So he endured a great deal: demotions, threats, false accusations, assassination attempts.

The deeper his investigation went, the more vicious his enemies became. He narrowly escaped death countless times, until Batwoman appeared more than a decade ago. The two struggled together for three years, and at last, he won.

The Ten Families collapsed completely, leaving only the Cobblepot Family. That was today's Penguin. The territory she occupied was not even one percent of its former size.

He had personally sent Falcone, once the emperor of Gotham, into Blackgate Penitentiary.

Though Falcone had soon gotten out, he went to Hong Kong, and Gordon never saw him again.

After that, Gordon devoted more of his energy to dealing with the endless stream of masked figures. Perhaps only when he rested alone at night with a drink would he remember those thrilling days of his youth.

Now, the man from his memories had appeared.

"Gordon, you were such a fine young man back then. Now you're old too."

Falcone spoke with emotion. There was no hatred in his eyes as he looked at Gordon, as though he were merely an ordinary old man looking at his own nephew.

He was still so poised, his suit immaculate and his manner refined. Everything in this room seemed like Time Reversal, returning to the glorious days of The Roman, when Gordon had first met him.

At the beginning of the investigation back then, Gordon had gone to Falcone's home seeking clues. Falcone had received him with the same composure. The emperor of the city and a lowly police officer had conversed across this very desk.

Just like today.

Gordon would not be fooled by him. Maybe he would have been thirty years ago, but not now. He still remembered how Falcone's men had "invited" him here.

The Roman had returned, and he was fully armed!

"You've aged faster than I have, Falcone."

Even in a desperate situation, Gordon did not back down. He immediately shot back.

Falcone merely smiled, still stroking his cat at an unhurried pace. The cat had grown drowsy from the fireplace's warmth, and kept yawning comfortably in his lap.

"Yes, we're both old. This world is destined to belong to the young, so before I die, I decided to return and take a look at this place."

"There's nothing worth seeing in Gotham. You should leave." Gordon sat opposite him and met his gaze calmly.

Falcone's hand paused. He lowered his head and smelled the rose on his chest, then looked up at Gordon in confusion. "Yes, there's nothing worth seeing. I handed you a glorious city, yet you let it become this?"

"At least the people have freedom." Gordon closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa.

"What good is freedom? At night, they don't even dare step outside." Falcone shook his head and laughed, as though he had heard a joke. Seeing Gordon close his eyes, he continued, "You and Batwoman deceived me once. I don't blame you, because I knew what you wanted was a better city."

"I don't blame her either, because someone in my family killed Bliss's parents behind my back. Though it was the Court of Owls' infiltration, it was still the retribution I deserved."

"..." Gordon said nothing.

"Do you remember? I asked what you wanted. You told me you wanted a city where people could live and work in peace, where children could grow up healthy. So I let go. I handed it to you and let you accomplish what I could not. I let you put me in prison. I let you become Gotham's hope. Then I went far away, yet this is the answer you give me?"

Falcone calmly set the cat down on the carpet and watched it curl into a ball on the spot, soon falling asleep with soft snoring. He took a bottle from his desk and poured into two glasses, the golden liquor gleaming strangely in the firelight.

"Gotham... just needs more time. It will get better." Gordon spoke words even he found difficult to believe.

"That is why I always thought highly of you, Gordon. You always carry hope in your heart. You never give up." Falcone rose with a smile and, trembling slightly, handed Gordon a glass. He gently clinked it against Gordon's. "Compared to that little cripple from the Cobblepot Family, you are my most ideal Inheritor."