Capítulo 12: Blissful Ignorance

June 6th, 2010

The Iceberg Lounge, Uptown, Gotham City.

1:30 PM

Oswald Cobblepot, better known as "the Penguin," was comfortably settled in his private office within his establishment known as the Iceberg Lounge. This upscale venue was a unique blend of a casino and a nightclub, attracting high-profile clientele from Gotham City.

Seated on his office chair, he savored his beloved delicacy: fresh fish. It was his fondness for this aquatic treat that bestowed upon him the nickname "the Penguin." While his appearance might have played a role, nobody dared to express it openly to him.

Oswald Cobblepot's origins mirrored those of many villains who found their way into the city's criminal underbelly. He started on his path by engaging in modest criminal activities, such as theft and drug-related offenses, just like countless others seeking their place in the city's underworld.

the Penguin's commitment to his criminal pursuits bore fruit as he eventually formed his very own gang. Through calculated heists, he swiftly climbed the ranks, accumulating both influence and wealth in the process. But as he matured as a criminal mastermind, he recognized the limitations of a hands-on approach to crime. He chose to refine his methods and adopt a more strategic, "hands off" approach.

With intelligence, he carefully forming a network of influential connections and alliances. Operating from the shadows, he became a puppet master, manipulating events and crimes to serve his ambitions.

Despite facing numerous incarcerations, the Penguin possessed a knack for evading justice, as his substantial wealth allowed him to sway the corrupt judges with bribes, ensuring that charges against him were always dropped. However, realizing the need to alleviate some of the mounting pressure and scrutiny, he made a decision to establish a legitimate business, presenting a façade of respectability and entrepreneurship to the public.

Approximately three years ago, the Penguin went on a venture to "go legit" by opening the Iceberg Lounge, a seemingly legitimate establishment within Gotham City. On the surface, it appeared to be an upscale casino and nightclub, attracting the wealthy patrons. Yet, unbeknownst to the unsuspecting clientele, the lounge served a dual purpose - operating as a front for the Penguin's continued control over the city's underworld.

Behind closed doors, beyond the glitz and glamour, the Iceberg Lounge is a hub for the illicit activities that defined the Penguin's empire. Information brokering, counterfeit cash, and drug trafficking were the clandestine trades in which he specialized. Under the veneer of legitimate business operations, the Penguin maintained his grip on the criminal underbelly of Gotham, leveraging his network, influence, and resources to orchestrate these illegal enterprises.

The Penguin's was abruptly interrupted by a knock on his office door. "Come in," he commanded, setting aside his unfinished meal. The door swung open, revealing one of his trusted lieutenants, who appeared slightly apprehensive, fidgeting with the suit he wore.

"Boss, I have... news regarding the deal from yesterday," the lieutenant started, his voice laced with nervousness.

"Well, don't keep me waiting," the Penguin snapped, his impatience palpable. "Spit it out already. Can't you see I'm busy?"

The lieutenant hesitated, knowing the gravity of the information he was about to deliver. "There was a shootout at Mosaic's warehouse yesterday," he trailed off, hating his role as the bearer of bad news.

"....Who?" the Penguin questioned, elaboration was unnecessary as the lieutenant understood the intended meaning.

"All of our men were knocked out, including Mosaic," he paused to take a breath, feeling the intensity of the Penguin's gaze. "The police got involved and they found the drugs. Mosaic is facing up to 20 years in prison," he finished off, bracing himself for the Penguin's reaction.

Silence hung in the air as the weight of the lieutenant's words settled upon the room. The Penguin's expression hardened, his mind racing to assess the situation and its implications.

The Penguin's businesses operated on a carefully devised system that relied on the use of middlemen. Instead of directly selling the products to consumers, he employed intermediaries to handle the distribution process. Although this method might not have been the most lucrative, it provided a layer of safety and protection that was paramount to the Penguin's operations.

Oswald Cobblepot is "legitimate" businessman after all. This approach allowed him to operate in the shadows while maintaining a respectable facade to the outside world.

The system of middlemen was meticulously crafted to ensure a seamless flow of products. Each intermediary had a specific role and responsibility within the distribution chain, carefully selected and vetted to minimize the risk of compromise. It was designed to shield the Penguin from direct connections to illegal activities.

However, the major flaw in this system becomes evident when one of the key middlemen is compromised. The repercussions of such an event could be catastrophic for the Penguin and his operations. The potential disruption of the product flow and the risk of exposure posed a significant threat to his criminal empire.

"Was it Batman?" the Penguin asked, his mind immediately jumping to the possibility of the Caped Crusader's involvement. Given their history of clashes, it wouldn't have been surprising if Batman had played a role in the compromising of the major middleman.

"No," the lieutenant shook his head, dispelling the Penguin's assumption. "It was 'The Humiliator'," he revealed.

The Penguin's already sour mood turned even darker. Unlike Batman, this vigilante wasn't afraid to employ dirty tactics and kept their identity and appearance shrouded in mystery, making it difficult for anyone to identify them.

The implications of the Humiliator's actions on his middleman weighed heavily on the Penguin's carefully crafted reputation. If this vigilante got their hands on him, his carefully constructed image would be tarnished, dragged through the mud. Determined to protect his reputation and maintain his grip on power, the Penguin knew he had to take swift action.

In a moment of tense silence, the Penguin finally broke it, addressing the lieutenant with a cold tone. "Do you know how they looked like?" he asked, his gaze piercing.

The lieutenant nodded quickly, "Some of our boys managed to catch a glimpse of them," he confirmed.

The Penguin decided to make his intentions clear. "I want a bounty placed on their head, on 'the Humiliator'," he declared, his voice dripping with cold determination.

"How much would it be, boss?"

The amount was given.

"Sir, are you sure—" the lieutenant began, only to be interrupted by the unmistakable click of the Penguin's umbrella shotgun being aimed directly at him.

"Did I stutter?" the Penguin asked, his tone laced with a chilling threat. The lieutenant, quickly shook his head in compliance.

"Go then," the Penguin dismissed him, causing the lieutenant to scramble out of the room, now fully aware of the consequences of questioning the Penguin's orders.

If luck were on his side, he would eradicate a plague before it escalates beyond control.

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June 6th, 2010

The industrial zone, East End, Gotham City.

6:00 PM

Standing on the ledge of one of the abandoned factories, Andrew surveyed the area, contemplating a new ability he hoped to acquire—flight. As a shapeshifter with the power of Black Sperm, he theorized that he could manifest wings and take to the skies.

Summoning his imagination, Andrew willed wings to sprout from his back. They appeared in a smaller size, suitable for his compact frame. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, preparing to test this newfound potential.

While Andrew possessed confidence in his abilities and was unafraid of heights, the idea of attempting flight brought a tinge of apprehension. Despite his powers, the act itself felt audacious, prompting him to close his eyes.

Mid-air, Andrew began to rapidly flap his wings, hoping to achieve some semblance of flight or at least hover in place if flying proved impossible for him. Initially, there was no sensation of wind as he leaped from the ledge, but soon enough, a rush of air engulfed him. However, instead of lifting him up, the wind seemed to push against him, propelling him downward.

Realizing the dire situation, Andrew quickly opened his eyes only to find the ground hurtling toward him at an alarming speed. In a moment of realization and impending impact, he could only utter a single word before the inevitable collision, "fuck."

As his body crashed onto the concrete, spiderweb-like cracks formed upon impact. Andrew groaned in pain as he picked himself up, finding that the discomfort was not as severe as he had anticipated.

With a frown, Andrew gazed back at the ledge from which he had jumped, understanding that achieving flight would require more time and experimentation. He proceeded to spent the next two hours tirelessly working on that ability, altering the shape and size of his wings and body, hoping to achieve the ability to hover in place at the very least.

Unbeknownst to Andrew, word had spread about the bounty placed on his head, containing information about his appearance. As he focused on his experiments, he remained oblivious to the growing awareness of his presence and the dangers that awaited him.

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(A/N)

My flight got delayed, twice.

Sorry about the delay in posting chapter, but that's I guess that's divine punishment for choosing american airlines. chapter's should posted more frequently from now on.