Broken(DC)

Late at night, in the grim depths of Gotham, a group of people wearing owl masks gathered around a long table. Several men and women waited patiently for something.

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"We've been waiting for you," one of the women said.

"Apologies for the delay, urgent matters came up. Shall we begin?" he replied, taking a seat at the table.

"Let's start the meeting. Today's agenda is the Penguin," said one of the attendees.

"We've reached a truce with him, but we all agree that this street-level runt doesn't belong in our circle. Sure, he controls part of the city now, but he's interfering with our business," added the first member of the Court of Owls.

"We have a good opportunity. A new adversary might put an end to his influence," said the fourth member of the Court.

"You mean the new clown? He's just chasing small-time thugs," the third member, a woman, said doubtfully.

"But there's someone capable of much more. If we support him now, we can solve all our problems at once," the fourth member continued.

"Good plan. Are you sure he can handle it?" asked the first member of the Court.

"Remember how he wiped out all crime in Star City," the fourth member replied.

"Ah, so that's who you're talking about... Still, he's just another street orphan like the rest. They're all the same," the third member said skeptically.

"Ahem, if I may point something out won't we end up like the mafia bosses of Star City?" one of the members interjected, trying to voice a reasonable concern.

"What happened to the Star City mafia bosses?" the first member asked sharply, encouraging the speaker to clarify their point.

"They were pathetic thugs. No wonder they lost. That won't happen to us, especially considering our army," the fifth member of the Court declared confidently.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, let's deal with one problem at a time," the first member concluded.

While his colleagues continued their discussion, the second member of the Court of Owls was lost in his own thoughts. He understood that his companions were far too arrogant, viewing themselves as near-immortals who controlled everything. But he knew it wasn't that simple, and that their old methods of manipulation might fail. His words would fall on deaf ears, so he chose to remain silent, hoping for the best.

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

An old gym, littered with worn-out weight plates scattered across the floor, each covered in a thin layer of rust. Time had left its mark on the walls, with mold creeping into the corners. On one of the benches lay a massive man. His body was covered in bulging muscles, veins as thick as fingers, seemingly ready to burst. He was bench pressing a barbell weighing close to five hundred kilograms.

"Hoo," he exhaled, completing another rep. "Hoo…"

With great effort, he pushed the barbell up one final time and slowly stood. He wore a black tank top that barely concealed his immense physique and a wrestler's mask. A cable carrying green liquid ran from his forearm to the back of his neck. Rising to his feet, he cracked his neck, the joints popping audibly.

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His name was Bane. A test subject in an experiment to perfect the Viper serum, he was being used to trial a variant labeled "Venom," which lacked the side effects seen in others. He maintained control over his mind and thoughts, but the power he gained was nothing short of superhuman.

"Boss," came a cautious voice.

"Did you get the explosives?" Bane's rough voice demanded as he turned his head toward the subordinate. The man immediately shrank back.

"There was… a small problem," the subordinate stammered nervously. In a flash, Bane lunged forward, gripping the man's throat with one hand.

"A problem?" Bane growled, lifting the man to eye level.

"C-cough… W-we got… it…" the subordinate choked out. Bane released him, and the man collapsed to the floor, coughing violently.

"We got most of it, but… that Bat… he attacked us," the subordinate managed to say.

"Him again," Bane snarled with anger. "It doesn't matter. How much did you manage to get from Penguin's warehouse?"

"About twenty kilograms," the subordinate replied.

"That's enough," Bane said. He fell silent, his mind envisioning the explosion that would tear down Arkham's walls and release every criminal within. When chaos and disorder engulfed the city, he would emerge from the shadows to claim the throne of Gotham.

They thought of him as nothing more than a lab rat, but he would prove to them all what he was truly capable of.

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

POV: Brian Foreman

It had been so long since I'd last seen him. James Gordon had aged significantly. He was already in his forties, but he looked even older his stressful job had taken its toll. He often climbed to the roof of the police station, as if lost in thought, staring out at the city. I had been watching him, and when the opportunity came to speak with him one-on-one, I decided to take it.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat to get his attention. I wasn't hiding my face.

He turned to look at me. He opened his mouth to say something but then stopped.

"I thought it was him again, but I don't know you," he said. It was clear how much he'd been through his face looked tired, worn.

"We've met before. You might remember me," I said. He now studied my face carefully, examining every detail.

"Brian, right? You've still got familiar features. I see you managed to overcome that limp," he said, looking me over.

"Yes, it's me," I confirmed.

"If you wanted to meet, you didn't have to sneak up on me like that. You can come down to my office," Gordon suggested.

"I can't show my face inside the precinct," I replied.

"Committed a crime and now you're hiding from the police?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"I admit, I'm no saint, but that's not the reason. It's to make sure Penguin's people don't report back about me," I explained.

"Penguin? Why would he be interested in you?" he asked, then paused, thinking. "You've gone down the wrong path too. This city never changes," Gordon said, walking to the edge of the roof and leaning against it, tired.

"It's not like that. I want to help you fight him, but he mustn't suspect anything about me. I have the finances and the means to make a difference, but we have to act carefully," I said.

"Now it's the kids saving us," Gordon muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, let's hear what you've got."

I laid out my entire plan for him. He listened attentively, occasionally asking clarifying questions. I didn't know much about Gotham, after all, and James Gordon had lived here his entire life, seeing far more than I ever could.

"In general, I agree this could work. But how do we get that much equipment? I know our mayor keeps a close eye on all transportation routes," Gordon said.

"There's no need to use transportation. There are enough factories and facilities here to supply any operation," I replied.

"When I first became a detective, I thought no one could escape me, that the law would find everyone. But as the years went by, I made more and more compromises, letting criminals go in exchange for less bloodshed. Now the most powerful criminal in the city stands above me, and I have to report police actions to him. Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous. I don't want a war," James Gordon said.

He was starting to lose hope for a better future after so many years of fighting that seemed futile.

"You've saved many lives. Think of how many people you've helped, including me. We need to act decisively," I said.

"Youth," Gordon muttered, heading toward the staircase leading down. "I'll think about it."

Gordon disappeared, and I watched him go. He neither agreed nor refused. Perhaps he really just needed time to process everything. I had already begun manufacturing the equipment that would save countless lives.

I had told him the plain truth: the police needed gear. The problem was that the budget was controlled by City Hall, and it was clear that nothing was being allocated for public safety. The next issue was the transportation system, which was entirely under Penguin's control. From trucks to ships he didn't own every company or piece of equipment, but everything went through his oversight. All the docks belonged to him and his thugs, and every checkpoint had bought-off cops. Smuggling large shipments without his knowledge was nearly impossible. Small shipments by passenger cars were possible, but it was time-consuming, and if they were discovered, security would tighten even more.

My plan was fairly simple: establish my own production facilities here while also creating jobs. The first goal was to protect the police officers. Not everyone even had bulletproof vests damn Penguin. All the weapons were outdated and desperately needed replacing, not to mention the vehicles. To put it bluntly, the crumbling patrol cars were barely functional.

After traversing several rooftops, I found myself on a street near the police station. Getting into my car, I started the engine and was about to drive off when two men stepped in front of the vehicle. They were dressed in trench coats and hats. One of them approached the window and knocked. I rolled it down and met his gaze.

"Mr. Cobblepot is displeased that you haven't paid him a visit. As a guest in our city, your behavior is rather disrespectful," he said.

"This is my hometown. I was born here," I replied.

"Undoubtedly, but you're a stranger here now, and perhaps you've forgotten the rules. When you come to someone's home, you must show respect to the host," he said.

"You've left me no choice," I retorted. They moved their hands under their coats and tensed slightly. "Fine, I'll pay him a visit later."

"Mr. Cobblepot insists on meeting you," he repeated.

"Then I'll go see him now," I said, realizing that a shootout could break out and jeopardize my plan. For now, I had to swallow my pride.

"We'll take our car," he said.

Taking a deep breath, I removed the keys from the ignition and abruptly opened the door, nearly knocking him over. He clenched his jaw but refrained from taking any action. It seemed Penguin had ordered them to proceed with extreme caution.

As I approached the parked car, I considered that using such a conspicuous vehicle might not be the best idea. I hadn't thought he'd monitor me so closely. Besides, I hadn't noticed any surveillance. Perhaps they stumbled upon me by chance and contacted their boss to report in. That seemed like the most likely explanation.

Once inside, one of them sat next to me, never taking his eyes off me. We remained silent for the entire drive.

The car arrived at City Hall, where the mayor's office was located. The security detail was heavily armed and constantly patrolling the area. Hmm, he's afraid for his life? That means things aren't as simple as they seem. He has enemies perhaps ones capable of killing him.

I was led into a lavishly decorated mansion there was no other way to describe the opulence surrounding me. Everything was adorned in gold and expensive decorations. His men were stationed everywhere, armed and ready.

They escorted me into a spacious office where Penguin sat behind a desk. He had grown into his nickname his figure had become quite round, and his attire matched his ostentatious style.

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"What an unexpected guest," Cobblepot said, tearing himself away from his meal. One swift move, and his life would end along with his reign. My hands itched to do it, but I couldn't. His life and authority were the only things keeping the streets under his control. Without him, true chaos would erupt.

"Penguin," I said. His expression changed sharply.

"I am Mayor Oswald Cobblepot," he snapped. "Don't forget where you are and who you're standing before, Cripple. You may have authority and influence in your domain, but here, I am the king."

"I apologize. I respect your authority here, and I am merely a guest," I replied.

"Good. You know your place. You deeply insulted me by not presenting yourself when you arrived in my city. When I am insulted, I get very angry. And when I'm angry heads roll," he said threateningly. Picking up a cigar, he lit it, taking a few puffs until the room filled with smoke. "So, why have you come to my city?"

"This is my hometown, and I decided to visit it," I said.

"Ha-ha-ha, amusing, truly amusing," he said, suddenly slamming his hand on the table and tossing the cigar aside. He shouted, "Blatant lies! And you dare to come here and feed them to me? Speak the truth about why you're in Gotham, or you won't leave through these doors today."

The men in the room raised their guns, aiming at me.

"I'm here for one purpose: to visit old acquaintances and see my hometown," I said.

He reacted sharply, freeing his umbrella and swinging it. A burst of gunfire from a concealed weapon in the umbrella sprayed across the floor in front of my feet. I didn't flinch at his display.

"Tch. Consider yourself lucky. My hand slipped," he said, lowering the weapon. "I'll accept your answer, but if you even think about taking a single step against me in my city, you'll pay dearly for it. Remember, you're a guest here. Now get out. Gotham doesn't welcome you."

Penguin's mood seemed particularly foul lately. He saw enemies everywhere. That's the fate of those at the top: constant fear, always looking over their shoulder, seeing threats in every shadow. The constant tension could drive even the sanest person mad.

Silently, I walked out the door. Everything was becoming harder and easier at the same time. Harder because of this madman, willing to do anything to stay on his throne. I thought those bombings were just extreme measures to win a war, but it seems he's lost himself completely.

Easier because, apparently, he has enemies ready to take his place. That gave me something to think about who they were and how to avoid ending up with another Penguin.

I had to walk back to my car on foot.

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

POV Penguin

Why is he here? Has he conspired with my enemies? Yes, that must be it. Everyone wants to take what's mine. I built all of this with my own hands, earned it myself. I endured so much suffering only for it all to be taken away from me now? No. No one will do that. I have a little surprise for all these small fish a special gift.

This Court of Owls they can't sit still, can they? They think they're the most important players, those bastards. If it weren't for their immortal freaks, I'd have crushed them in their infancy. But they're almost impossible to kill. They keep fighting even after you pump hundreds of bullets into them. I had to hire a few mercenaries just to deal with them. Then I went after their nests, planting a few bombs in their homes. Sure, I killed nine unrelated people in the process, but at least one of them was a Court member.

"Everyone out," I said. My subordinates filed out. The moment the door closed behind them, all the feigned aggression drained away.

Let them think there's something wrong with me, that I've gone mad. Fools. I've come too far and worked too hard to lose to myself. No, that won't happen. I need to think this through. I've gone too deep into all of this. I thought I could handle it, but it seems even my luck has its limits.

If I give up a few pieces of the spoils, I might take some of the targets off my back. Yes, it's a mistake on my part, but I've accounted for it. The Court of Owls is a problem, but if I satisfy their interests, they'll go back to their little paradise.

The power I've worked so hard for am I really giving it away willingly? Sacrifices... sacrifices I'm not ready to make.