Theodore sighed for the umpteenth ti, marveling at what a free and wonderful place Gotham was.
Coming here was like returning to his unfamiliar hotown.
If he hadn't been targeted by Wayne, Theodore might have been reluctant to leave.
The two robbers in front of him: one had a head of angry, fiery red hair, deep wrinkles on his face, and loose skin, clearly a middle-aged man who was perpetually drunk.
The other, assisting the redhead, was a punk-dressed hooligan.
He looked about Theodore's age, also had a pair of blue eyes, and his hair was dyed a clumsy green with cheap dye, as he fiercely brandished a knife in the air towards Theodore.
"Kid, hand over all your money!"
"Your clothes look pretty valuable too, take them off. And on your hand, are you wearing a watch?—Hey, you are, good for you, kid!"
Theodore smiled slightly, reached into his suit jacket, and gripped the crowbar handle hidden inside.
Just as he was about to raise the crowbar to deliver a righteous beating to these two clumsy thieves who had picked the wrong target, the green-haired young man suddenly leaned in, examining Theodore's face closely.
"Look, this kid is really handso!"
The green-haired man revealed a lewd smile, his eyes sparkling with ill intent.
"I say, boss, why don't we sell him to Black Mask?"
"..."
Upon hearing this suggestion, the older redhead was visibly tempted.
Neither of them noticed that Theodore's initially amused smile was slowly turning cold.
Black Mask's gang controlled half of Gotham's flesh trade.
What these two intended by selling Theodore to Black Mask was simply self-evident.
Under the suit jacket, the hand gripping the crowbar loosened.
Theodore, whose trigger had been pulled, moved his fingers upwards, then pulled out a screwdriver from inside his jacket.
"I swear by Arkham Asylum, I originally only wanted to rob a docunt," Theodore said expressionlessly, "But you two just pissed off."
Batman pursued the trail and finally caught Penguin's tail in a safe house about five kiloters from the Iceberg Lounge.
With a crash, glass shattered like raindrops.
A Batarang broke through the window, tracing a crescent-like arc in mid-air, its angle ghostly and eerie, striking Penguin from behind.
The mont it touched his skin, the Batarang glowed with electricity. Penguin's limbs instantly lost control, and he convulsed and fell to the ground, his umbrella rolling to the side.
Batman followed closely, leaping into the room, and pressed his knee against Penguin's chest.
From beneath the pointed-eared mask, a deep interrogation, as profound as the Gotham night, erged, hoarse and low.
"Everything that happened today is not your and Black Mask's style. Answer , who is the mastermind?"
Among the many Gotham villains, Penguin was often the one who was more adaptable and relatively flexible.
Batman first pursued Penguin precisely because he was easier to break than Black Mask.
However, this ti, Penguin kept his mouth shut, as if determined to resist to the end.
Batman knew how to persuade him.
The next mont, Penguin took three punches in one second, each landing squarely on his face.
Fine cracks vibrated on his spectacles, which then rolled off Penguin's nose, the last punch so heavy and brutal it almost caved in Penguin's entire face.
The man, shaped like a Penguin, let out a painful groan, but Batman rcilessly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close.
At this mont, they were so close their noses almost touched.
Batman forced the words out in a tone as if he had just climbed out of hell:
"Last chance—who is it?"
Penguin spat out his broken teeth and mumbled indistinctly:
"With 50% profit, capital dares to take risks; with 100% profit, it dares to trample all human laws; with 300% profit, it dares to risk the gallows..."
"—If that day cos, I'm willing to provide you with a Bat-gallows," Batman said coldly.
He skillfully tied Penguin up, using a lasso to tightly bind Penguin's ankles, hanging him upside down like a cocoon from the eaves outside the safe house.
As the Gotham night wind blew, Penguin groaned rhythmically, like the pendulum of a brass grandfather clock.
Batman ssaged Robin: "I'm going to find Black Mask; Penguin is your problem."
"Okay, Bat, I'll be there in ten minutes."
Robin's complaining voice ca through the earpiece.
"By the way, remind Penguin for not to talk like Riddler next ti; out of all of Gotham, Riddler gets beaten the most."
Oracle suddenly interjected: "Surveillance shows that Dwarf Falcon just entered the alley with a green-haired man. There are no caras in the alley, so it's not ruled out that he's a mber of the Joker gang. I'm investigating his identity."
This news was nerve-wracking.
But a few seconds later, Oracle's tone suddenly shifted, carrying a hint of oddness.
"Wait, it seems to be fine."
"What?"
"Red Hood," Oracle zood in on the computer screen, "Red Hood just happened to be heading in that direction."
In the alley, the red-haired middle-aged man's eyes were tightly shut, as he plunged headfirst into a dilapidated, empty trash can.
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