Rome Will Always Be Rome

Gordon was speechless. He did not even know whether he should say anything.

Anyone who knew even a little of the truth could see that she was not normal at all. Batwoman and Bliss seemed completely severed from each other, like two entirely different people.

Whenever Jester was captured, she would always smile and shout at Batwoman:

"Dear Bat, you and I are the same!"

"I understand you! We're the same kind of people!"

"You made me what I am! Hahaha!"

Whenever that happened, Batwoman would merely stand there in silence, watching the badly injured Jester being carried onto Arkham Asylum's transport van without saying a word. Then she would flick her cape and vanish into the darkness.

No one knew what she was thinking, nor what she would do next.

How could Gordon fail to see what even a psychotic lunatic could see? So many madmen and freaks had appeared in Gotham today because there was one of their "kind" here, drawing them in.

But on the other hand, he had watched Bliss grow up. He believed she would do the right thing, and Gotham truly needed a force in the darkness to stop crime from spreading.

But today, Falcone had told him that he knew everything.

The path Gordon had chosen was one Falcone had foreseen long ago. He had even arranged an assistant for him.

The Cobblepot Family's young lady—the Penguin of today—was supposed to handle these matters for him in the shadows. She should have been the one playing Batwoman's role today.

"Look, Gordon, you're an upright man. You can't even lie to me again. We both know that Bliss has gone mad, her personality split into two halves." Falcone spoke calmly to Gordon. There was no joy at receiving an answer in his tone, only endless regret.

Back then, Gordon had chosen Batwoman and let her intimidate Gotham's dark forces.

Compared to Penguin's influence, the help Batwoman could provide was negligible. Aside from that fear of bats, there was nothing else.

Gordon now understood that if Penguin wanted to do it, then as a descendant of the Ten Families, the fear she could bring people would be hundreds or thousands of times greater than that of Batman!

Any older Gotham resident would tremble upon hearing the names Falcone and the Ten Families. That black terror was like true night itself.

Penguin had known everything long ago. Falcone had already given her instructions. She had merely been waiting in the shadows, gathering strength. The moment Gordon gave up cooperating with Batman, she would volunteer and come to him, pushing matters in the direction The Roman wished to see.

She befriended officials, built networks, and stockpiled weapons, all while waiting for this day.

To reshape a brand-new, beautiful Gotham—a Gotham jointly ruled by both the legitimate and criminal worlds.

If everything truly went according to Falcone's arrangement, with Gordon using white and Penguin using black, then there would be no chess pieces of any other color on Gotham City's chessboard. Everything could develop according to Gordon's wishes, and perhaps it truly could become the happy city of his ideals.

Commissioner Gordon was not a child. He knew that wherever there was light, there was darkness. Since darkness was bound to exist, it was better to make it obey his discipline.

But then Gotham would only be a city of black-and-white chaos. It would merely change from the dictatorship of Caesar, The Roman, to the republic of the Senate. There would be no real difference.

Rome would still be Rome.

"No. That would still be your Gotham, not the one I want. A city managed with gangsters involved is doomed to fall!" Gordon shook his head, throwing those thoughts from his mind. He had his own principles and did not want any connection with the gangs.

"Yes, I understand your thinking. I have been watching you all these years. You have worked very hard, even though Gotham has only grown worse." Falcone comforted him, pouring more wine into his glass. "Under your supervision, public security during the day has improved significantly, and the government has become cleaner as well. The only problem is at night. Cobblepot has disappointed me."

Gordon frowned. Those who disappointed Falcone had never met a good end; history had long proven that.

But Falcone did not continue the topic. He simply set down his glass, lightly clapped his hands, and called toward the door, "Sofia, you may come in now."

The familiar woman outside entered the room. She removed the felt hat from her head, and a cascade of black hair spilled down. She looked at Commissioner Gordon on the sofa, then quietly walked to Falcone's side.

"Let me introduce her. She is Sofia Falcone, my Youngest Daughter. You have never met her before because she has been studying in Europe." Falcone smiled and patted her hand, saying with satisfaction, "Though saying this may make the others uncomfortable, Sofia truly is the most talented of my children."

Gordon looked at the woman's face. He had not paid much attention before, because she constantly said things like "the boss" and "our boss." Gordon had assumed she was merely a high-ranking enforcer. There were hundreds of thousands of such enforcers in Gotham.

But now, under the light, there was only one phrase that could describe her: a femme fatale.

She still wore that same false smile. Compared to her father, she lacked that air of controlling the world, but possessed a little more neurotic madness.

Gordon looked away and mocked Falcone. "No introduction necessary. We've known each other for a long time. She's very enthusiastic."

"Oh? Is that so?" Falcone raised an eyebrow and asked his daughter with a smile, "Did you get along well with Commissioner Gordon?"

"Of course, Father. Commissioner Gordon is a very good man." Sofia answered in a syrupy voice, like a good daughter speaking to her father, yet her eyes stared at Gordon with deep meaning.

"After everything is over, she will assist you in building a new Gotham. It will no longer be Cobblepot. From now on, the Falcone Family will be your support."

"Wait, after what is over?" Gordon sensed something wrong in his words. He could not understand what Falcone meant. "What new Gotham?"

Falcone closed his eyes, frowned, and tilted his head as though recalling something, but he quickly smiled apologetically.

"Oh, didn't I say? Ah, when one gets old, it becomes easy to forget things. So, my dear Gordon, do you know where we are right now?"

"Where? Gotham's sewers? Or an abandoned asylum?" Gordon stared at the fireplace, then looked at the ceiling.

Falcone raised his right hand and held his thumb and index finger a tiny distance apart, shaking his head regretfully at Gordon.

"Unfortunately, you were only this close. You do not truly understand Gotham. The darkness you see is like a thin layer of seaweed floating on the nighttime ocean. But it doesn't matter. You were never meant to understand these things. They are problems for families like ours to handle."

"Where are we?!"

Gordon stared at him. He had had enough of these riddles, enough of being arranged and manipulated by others.

Falcone leaned back in his chair, as though enjoying the warmth of sunlight on a winter afternoon. By the fire, he smiled contentedly.

"Indian Hill, Gordon. We are at Indian Hill."