Broken(DC)

Oswald Cobblepot POV

Over the past few years, I've solidified my position in Gotham significantly. Controlling maritime shipping and a share of freight operations has allowed me to manage vast volumes of weapons and ammunition shipped daily in containers to the city. However, the bulk of my income still comes from selling various magical substances. And while it's not the most honest way to make a living, people make their own choices.

I was certain my victory over Falcone would make me the undisputed boss of Gotham. Though his empire has crumbled, I still can't fully eradicate the remnants of his influence. It turns out Falcone was quite skilled at preserving his remaining territories and resources.

Lately, however, someone has been actively working against the expansion of my influence. The police have been uncovering my operations with surprising accuracy, leading to significant profit losses. Contracts are being severed, and shipments that should have arrived are vanishing without a trace. It seems even my so-called benefactors have decided to curb my ambitions. But the Penguin intends to devour everything.

If I can eliminate them, I won't just dominate the criminal underworld—I'll own Gotham itself. But first, I need to figure out who these unknown players are. Every attempt to gather information about them has been abruptly shut down; my people have gone missing without a trace. The whispers about them sound more like nursery rhymes meant to scare children:

"Beware the Court of Owls, that watches Gotham from the shadows. Behind the limestone and stone towers, they observe you always, in work or love. Speak not of them, or you'll lose your head."

They act like they're some kind of superior beings, but they're just people. Let's see how long they can maintain this arrogance. For now, though, I'll focus on building my strength and stop wasting resources on chasing phantoms. I'll come back to deal with them later.

Knock, knock.

I was interrupted by a knock on my office door. I had made it clear I wasn't to be disturbed.

"Didn't I make myself clear, you imbeciles? I said no interruptions!" I yelled, exasperated that my subordinates couldn't follow simple orders.

"Boss, uh... there's someone here claiming you're expecting them," came the hesitant voice of a guard from the other side of the door.

"If I were expecting someone, I'd have told you, you idiots! Bring this dead man walking to me," I growled, struggling to mask my irritation. If I wanted someone brought to me, it would have happened instantly.

"On it," the guard replied, his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Whoever dared to show up unannounced must be either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. I'll hear them out first—then, perhaps, they'll find themselves in my shark tank. It's a fitting place for those who fail to consider the consequences of their actions.

My wait didn't last long. The door opened, and my men escorted in a middle-aged man dressed in an immaculate suit with a sharp haircut that accentuated his features. His expression was untroubled, even with two of my most intimidating enforcers gripping his shoulders. If these two had taken even a moment longer to bring him in, I would've punished them along with this arrogant fool. I have little patience for preening upstarts.

"Well? Say something before you die," I growled, granting him a few more seconds to amuse me.

"After hearing my proposal, you'll likely want to spare my life," he said confidently, his voice steady and his face calm despite the iron grips on his shoulders.

"And what could you possibly offer to save your miserable hide? If I want something, I take it," I snapped, my patience wearing thin.

"This benefits you more than it does me," he replied with a knowing smile, as though he held some secret.

"You're testing me. Take him to the sharks, and don't bring me another waste of time like this. Or you'll be joining him in the tank," I barked, pointing toward the door in fury.

My men immediately grabbed him to haul him out of the room. The confidence drained from his face, replaced by fear as his plans unraveled before his eyes. His bravado disappeared in an instant. He struggled, but it was futile.

"Wait! Stop!" he shouted, his voice rising in panic. Just as they reached the door, he yelled, "Falcone!"

"What did you say?" I froze. If he was one of Falcone's lackeys, he wouldn't get off so easily. "Repeat that!"

"Falcone! If you want to take him down, hear me out!" he stammered, his earlier composure replaced by fear and desperation.

"Fine," I growled. "But I warn you, if your proposal doesn't impress me, you're shark food anyway." I gestured to my men to bring him back and sit him down in front of me. "Now, talk."

"Hmph, we have intel on secret caches belonging to the Falcone family and the pressure points you can strike to finish him off," he said quickly, straightening his suit and adjusting his tie with a trembling hand.

"I don't like dealing with secretive organizations. You'd better tell me who you're working for, or this conversation ends here," I said sharply, unwilling to entangle myself in another shadowy group's schemes.

"Fine. I represent Theo Galavan, a future candidate for mayor of Gotham. He's looking for strong allies to support his campaign, and he wants to collaborate with someone like you," he explained, his words carefully chosen. Allies could be useful in my climb to absolute power, and a mayoral candidate could open doors I hadn't yet unlocked.

"What does he want from me?" I asked, wary of revealing too much.

"Theo Galavan seeks only justice. The Wayne family wronged him deeply, and he wants to settle that score," the man said with a hint of venom. Justice? Nothing in Gotham is ever that simple, especially when it involves the Waynes and their sprawling empire.

"You're suggesting we kill their heir?" I asked. It would certainly complicate things, but complications can be managed.

"No, that's a last resort. First, we need to put them in their place," he said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. My men immediately grabbed his arm, ready to act.

"Relax, relax, it's just a photo," he said hastily. With a nod, I allowed him to retrieve it. He pulled out an image and handed it to me—a photograph of the Waynes' newest skyscraper.

"And you're suggesting we blow it up?" I asked, studying the photograph. "A building like this would be difficult to destroy, and the collateral damage would be enormous."

"Not quite," the man replied with a sneer. "It needs to burn. Publicly. Let everyone in Gotham see the symbol of their family reduced to ashes. Surely, such a task is within your capabilities?"

"I have someone in mind for the job," I said, leaning back slightly, "but first, I want the information on Falcone. That takes priority over any favor you're asking for."

"We trust your reputation and word, but..." He paused, the cursed "but" that always preceded something aggravating. "...should you fail to deliver, Theo Galavan won't forgive such an insult."

"You dare threaten me, the Penguin?" I roared, slamming my umbrella against the desk. The man recoiled into the chair, terror flashing in his eyes as my men pushed his shoulders down with force.

"Tell your boss this: I will get the information first. And I always keep my word. Now get out before I change my mind and feed you to the sharks!"

The guards didn't wait for me to repeat myself. They hauled him out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Moments later, Joseph Duncan entered the room. My loyal assistant, a shrewd operator, and the man whose business I had wrested from Falcone's clutches.

"Joseph, find me Garfield Lynns. I have a task for him," I commanded. There's no one better for a job like this. Lynns is a pyromaniac and a virtuoso in his craft, known in certain circles for his unparalleled ability to conjure fire from thin air.

"So you're planning to fulfill this request?" Joseph asked, his sly tone hinting that he'd overheard more than I'd intended.

"Only if the information proves valuable," I replied, giving him a pointed look.

"Understood," he said, disappearing with efficiency. I appreciated his effectiveness, but lately, he'd grown a bit too bold for my liking. I'd have to remind him of his place soon enough.

Silence returned to my office, sweet and uninterrupted, allowing me to contemplate my next moves. The flames of chaos were always enticing, but every spark required careful handling. This game of alliances, betrayals, and destruction could bring me closer to the power I craved—or send it all tumbling down.

One way or another, Gotham would learn that you don't play with the Penguin without consequences.

End of POV.

********************************

Every day became increasingly monotonous. I spent most of my time alone at home, focused on training and studying, yet I couldn't help feeling bored. The month dragged on slowly, each day stretching into what felt like eternity. I eagerly awaited the summer holidays when Alice would finish the school year, and we could go to summer camp. I'd never been to one before, but this year Elizabeth had decided to send us there. According to Alice, it was going to be a fun and exciting experience, filled with activities and celebrations.

Lost in thought, I almost forgot about my pull-up set. Gripping the bar firmly, I resumed my exercise. My strength had noticeably improved since I woke up from the coma, and I'd built an impressive muscular frame for my age. It was remarkable. Even though I weighed much more than my peers—35 kilograms, to be exact—my strength matched my weight. On top of that, my skin had become far tougher; even to get a cut now required significant effort. Thanks to my rapid regeneration, injuries healed quickly. However, I noticed something peculiar—whereas before, cuts would make my skin even tougher, now, even if I repeated the process, there was no change.

After experimenting with different types of injuries, I realized none of them seemed to affect my body's durability anymore. Perhaps this was the limit of my invulnerability, though I suspected I might grow even more resilient as I aged.

On the bright side, I had made great strides in knife-throwing. I could navigate my surroundings perfectly without relying on sight and hit my targets with precision. My throwing speed had reached an almost unbelievable level. It seemed I had hit a plateau here too, and I wasn't sure how to push this skill further.

After finishing my training, hunger set in, and I headed off to replenish my body's resources—simply put, to eat. Once I'd enjoyed a satisfying meal, I was about to return to my routine when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Strange. Who could that be? Could Alice be home early? Or maybe Elizabeth? Curious, I approached the door and peered through the peephole. Standing there was the doctor who had treated me, wearing a coat and hat, suggesting the weather outside was still chilly.

"Mr. McNider, is that you?" I asked, wondering what might have brought him here.

"Oh, Brian, yes, it's me. I've come to talk to you about something important," he replied, smiling slightly as he looked into the peephole.

After a moment's hesitation, I decided to open the door. After all, he had helped me, even if it was just part of his job. Opening the door, I invited him inside.

"Thank you," he said, stepping in and removing his coat and hat, which he hung up in the hallway.

As I led him to the living room, it occurred to me that I should offer him something.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" I asked.

"Tea, please. I can't stand coffee. I have to drink it at work, of course, but I really can't tolerate the stuff," the doctor replied with a chuckle.

I had already had my tea, so I decided to prepare just one cup. Pouring the tea into a mug, I also grabbed a tray of my cookies. Bringing everything to the coffee table in front of the sofa, I offered it to the doctor.

"Thank you," he said, immediately picking up the tea and taking a sip. When he grabbed a cookie and tried it, his expression turned to surprise, and he quickly finished it. "This is incredibly delicious! Where do you buy these?" he asked, his mouth still full as he reached for another.

"Nowhere—I bake them myself," I replied. It seemed my cooking skills had also reached a high level.

"Brian, my boy, you're full of talents," he said, looking at me in amazement.

"Thank you. But what did you want to talk about?" I decided to steer the conversation back to the reason for his visit.

"Oh, right, sorry. It completely slipped my mind. Old age is no joy," he said, setting aside the cookie he was about to eat. "It's about your future."

"What about it?" I asked, wondering if he was planning to tell someone about my abilities.

"You possess rare talents, and I'm sure they'll only grow stronger with time. Where you choose to direct them could greatly impact your life," he explained.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," I replied, confused as to why he was bringing up my future.

"I won't beat around the bush, but first, let me ask about your plans. What do you want to become?" Mr. McNider asked.

"I planned to finish school and enter medical university to learn more about my body," I decided to share.

"You want to become a doctor?" the doctor asked in surprise. "That's wonderful."

"Well, not exactly a doctor, but it will help me expand my knowledge," I answered. "But why do you need to know about my plans?"

"You see, ordinary citizens don't see the horrors that happen in the shadows. There are those who fight these horrors in the dark," he replied vaguely, but I understood he was referring to heroes and villains.

"You mean heroes and villains, right?" I asked.

"Essentially, yes. But sometimes, you have to be even more terrifying than the heroes and use harsher methods. But that's not the point. I came to tell you one thing: I don't want this world to lead you down a dark path," he said. Was he afraid I'd become a criminal?

"I don't intend to break the law," I assured him.

"I believe you. You're a good kid. Just look at what you did that brought you to me in the first place. But..." he paused, his tone becoming heavy. "Often, life leaves no choice, and I don't want you to end up in such a situation."

"I'll manage," I replied confidently. My abilities should help me with that.

"I hope so," he said, falling silent. An awkward pause followed as we looked at each other, waiting for someone to say something else.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" I eventually asked.

"Yes. And remember, you can call me anytime. I'll answer any of your questions, and if you face difficulties, I'll help," he said, taking out a business card and handing it to me.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, accepting it. Knowing someone like him could be very helpful.

"All right, I won't keep you any longer. I'll be on my way, and thank you for the treat," he said as he got ready to leave. I decided to pack some cookies for him.

"Here, take these," I said, offering the package.

"Oh, thank you! After this, I don't think I'll be able to eat ordinary cookies again," he said sincerely, accepting the gift. He then put on his coat and opened the door. "Goodbye, Brian."

"Goodbye," I said as I saw him off.

There's something unusual about him, as if he's been through a lot in his life. But one thing I don't understand is why he treats me so kindly and offers his help. I'll have to ask him about it later.

The rest of the day passed unnoticed, as usual.

Theo Galavan's POV

My plan for ascension is gaining momentum. Once it's set in motion, nothing will stop me. I will become the true king of Gotham and reclaim my throne. If not for the cursed Wayne family that overthrew my dynasty, my bloodline would have ruled long ago. Let's see how brightly their status symbol burns.

Standing on the balcony, admiring the view, I heard my phone ring. Finally, he decided to call—I was beginning to think he wouldn't make it back from the Penguin. That criminal boss is nothing more than a rat, one I'll discard as soon as he serves his purpose.

"Speak," I answered the call.

"Mr. Galavan, I went to the Penguin. He almost killed me," my subordinate whined.

"I don't care. Is he willing to cooperate?" Whether or not he got torn to pieces doesn't concern me.

"Yes, but he demands information first. Only then will he hold up his end of the bargain," the subordinate replied. The audacity of the Penguin knows no bounds. Fine, he'll get the information, but he'll regret his insolence.

"Take cell number six in compartment 5B. There's a folder with the information he needs. Visit him tomorrow and seal the deal," I instructed. "Understood?"

"Yes, I understand," he said.

"That's all." I ended the call.

The work never stops. Massaging my temples with a sigh, I dialed the number for my hired operatives.

"Yes, boss," came the voice of the squad commander.

"As soon as the Penguin fulfills his part of the deal, abduct his mother. After that, he'll play along without question," I informed him. According to my intel, he's deeply attached to his mother. Manipulating her life will ensure his obedience.

"Understood, boss. It'll all be taken care of," the commander assured me.

"Get it done." I hung up once more.

That's enough work for one day. Time to rest.

End of POV.