Aging Honor

In Gotham today, he was probably the only one who could call Penguin "little cripple."

There was no contempt in it, nor any emotion. When the term came from his mouth, it sounded as though he were merely talking about an underachieving junior relative. It was like two old friends chatting about everyday matters, without the slightest reservation.

Gordon frowned. He could not quite understand what Falcone meant. Had he kidnapped him with dozens of guns just to reminisce?

Falcone took a sip of wine, sat back down, and let out a soft sigh.

"After I came back, I looked over her territory. I have to say, she is far inferior to her mother. Even I, as her uncle, feel ashamed."

"Penguin?"

"Yes. These days, everyone remembers her as Penguin, and she has taken it as her own nickname. But she has forgotten that she ought to be Miss Cobblepot, not defined by a name earned from her lame leg." Falcone leaned back against the sofa, gently turning the ring on his finger.

"She is different from you."

Gordon picked up his glass as well and took a small sip. Facing Falcone, he needed something to calm himself down so he could think clearly.

"Yes. That was why I let her keep the Cobblepot Family back then. She was cunning, but useful. At the time, I thought she would have a promising future." Falcone smiled at the memory and looked up at the pitch-black ceiling, as though gazing at the sky. "But over the years, she has lost far too much territory. She even allowed these new-style families to rise. That was her greatest mistake. Look at this—she actually let the Japanese Yakuza into Gotham."

"The Yakuza came to Gotham under the cover of legitimate companies, pretending to conduct business and investments. But one day, I will bring them to justice."

Of course Gordon knew about those Japanese women. Most of Gotham's street racers belonged to them now, and they ran underground racing, drug trafficking, and all kinds of other operations. He simply needed evidence, and he had been working on it.

Falcone nodded and extended one hand, giving it a slight wave toward Gordon.

"Yes, I understand. But that was never your duty. You stand in the light; this is Miss Cobblepot's duty." Falcone smiled as he said something that shattered Gordon's entire worldview. "Before I left, I met with her. I preserved her family and territory so that she could assist you, and she agreed."

"Wha—" Gordon was utterly shocked. What was going on?

"You are a police officer. You can arrest any criminal. But when people like the Yakuza enter Gotham wearing a legal mask, do you not find yourself powerless?" Falcone spoke calmly, as though everything had unfolded exactly as he predicted. "That was why I left Cobblepot behind. Whenever darkness arose that you could not deal with, she would handle it using underworld methods. But she..."

Falcone shook his head and smiled at Gordon. His ring clinked against the glass.

"Her operations are a complete mess now. She is like someone frightened out of her wits. I can accept the rise of Black Mask and Hush; the Sionis family and Elliot family are old Gotham blood, after all, even if these younger generations are somewhat mad." The Roman spoke with displeasure, his rebukes spilling rapidly from his mouth. Though his voice was not loud, his overwhelming presence bore down on Gordon. "But Red Hood, Two-Face, the Clayface gang, and dozens upon dozens of gangs large and small—what are they? No honor, no rules!"

Even an old lion was still a lion. Gordon had only ever seen that kind of majesty in him.

And Falcone had not even become angry. He had merely voiced a few complaints.

Yes, these newly emerged forces were less criminal organizations than gangs of lunatics running black-market businesses. Almost none of them were normal.

What they cared about was not business, but entertainment.

Gordon was still trying to process the shocking revelation. He felt as though everything in his life had been manipulated by the old man before him, while he also considered Falcone's purpose.

Falcone looked at him and continued, "And you too—Cobblepot only moves some goods through her territory, and it is only arms dealing. Why do you keep raiding her places? Has she ever caused you trouble? Has she been anything less than polite to you? Has she threatened Gotham's safety?"

Under Amazon rule, arms dealing was legal. To them, weapons were merely external tools; the warriors who fought were what truly mattered. So long as one reported where the weapons came from and where they were going to the Council, anyone could engage in that business.

A coward with a gun still could not defeat a warrior armed with a wooden stick. In the Amazons' eyes, selling weapons was no different from selling wood.

The Amazon Council ruled the entire world. They had millions of the strongest warriors on Earth, many of whom possessed divine power. What was there to worry about?

The only issue was that Penguin dealt in enormous quantities of weapons and never filed reports.

Calling it illegal was not quite right, because all she needed to do was submit an application afterward and pay a little extra tax. But calling it legal was not right either, since she had skipped all those procedures.

She was more like one of Gotham's big shots of the "gray trade." Everything she did was ambiguous.

Unfortunately, Penguin was the only surviving descendant of one of the Ten Families, the same Ten Families with whom Bliss had a blood feud. Batwoman kept her eye on Penguin every day. Forget secretly selling weapons—even if Penguin sold a boatload of fish without paying taxes, Batman would hand the clues to Gordon.

Gordon was an upright and decent man, and Bliss constantly supplied him with evidence. Naturally, Penguin's places were the ones he raided most often.

To be honest, although Penguin was short and walked in a comical way, she was extremely shrewd and utterly without scruples.

Flattery and sucking up were her specialties. She followed the old families' path while using the methods of the new forces.

She did not need honor, but she remembered the rules.

Penguin rarely caused Gordon trouble on her own initiative. Most of the time, she managed her restaurant. Sometimes, when they encountered each other while driving, she would enthusiastically invite Gordon to eat there. At busy intersections filled with traffic, she would loudly tell him how authentic that day's lobster and salmon were, and how fresh they tasted.

Gordon would always quickly roll up his window to block out her endless sales pitch, then drive away. But Penguin never minded. The next time they met, she would recommend new dishes all over again.

She had close ties with many senior city officials, and the Iceberg Lounge was one of the city's most popular places. Every night, high-ranking officials and influential figures gathered there, while she navigated among them with ease.

Just as the Ten Families had done in the past. Gordon did not like that atmosphere.

"Because she broke the law," Gordon told Falcone.

"I know. That is the kind of person you are. You cannot tolerate even a grain of sand in your eye, hehe." Falcone laughed again and picked up a white handkerchief to wipe the corner of his mouth. "But I also know that it was the Wayne family's little girl egging you on. She has always hated us."

"Because you killed her parents."

"It was not just us. The Wayne family was also one of this city's founders. We shared this city's prosperity and glory. She should have become an outstanding entrepreneur, or a boss—not what she is today. Not like this." Falcone looked guilty. Bliss's parents had been his friends too, and they often went to the theater together.

"A Hero today?" Gordon raised an eyebrow.

"A lunatic today." Falcone raised his head, his aged eyes studying Gordon as though examining his heart. "Tell me, Gordon. Do you think Bliss is still normal? She wears that little animal costume, flying around the city and unleashing the fear inside her. She spreads fear to her enemies, only for it to rebound upon herself twice as strongly. Is that normal?"

Gordon's lips moved, as though thirst had robbed him of speech. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out.