DC: A Cop in Gotham

Chapter 15: Penguin

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Dean was escorted into a lavish room. The pot-bellied Penguin lay on a luxurious chair and regarded Dean with a calculating gaze.

"Do you know that just by making threats, I could sue you until your family is destroyed?" Penguin's voice was cold with malice.

Penguin, confident in his position, was certain Dean couldn't hurt him. He didn't even bother to take away Dean's gun.

Dean, keeping a serious expression, responded: "That's not a threat, Mr. Cobblepot. I'm simply reminding you out of good intentions. If you don't act soon, you and your family will soon lose the right to breathe."

**Pong!**

The Penguin slammed his hand on the table, and several members of the Penguin Gang immediately drew their guns, pointing them at Dean's head. They were ready to turn Dean into Swiss cheese at the slightest movement.

Dean remained unfazed. He knew Penguin wasn't foolish enough to kill him, especially considering the public nature of his actions. Dean had arrived at the Iceberg Lounge in a police car—if he died here, it would only push Penguin into the spotlight, something no criminal mastermind wants.

Seeing Dean unbothered by the threat, Penguin straightened up, adjusting his suit, and walked toward him, his umbrella in hand. His sharp, aquiline nose protruded as he spoke with a sardonic smile.

"It seems our guest has something to say that's not suitable for the company of others. In that case, you all should leave."

The henchmen obediently filed out, leaving only Dean and Penguin in the large office.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You know it's inconvenient, yet you said it out loud? Aren't you worried that our meeting might leak?"

Penguin chuckled darkly. "You should be the one worried. You're meeting with a gang boss alone. What do you think Commissioner Gordon will think?"

Since the day Dean moved into Gordon's house, his presence had been known by all major gangs in Gotham. Everyone has informants in the police force these days. Even Commissioner Gordon has to be careful about his plans—nothing is secret.

"And don't worry about the news leaking now," Penguin said, a sneer playing on his lips. "The moment you stepped into the Iceberg Lounge, every move you made was under surveillance."

Penguin, known for his control over Gotham's underworld, was keenly aware of every mole in his organization. Despite the risk, he had no choice but to elevate these moles to higher positions to avoid getting caught by the people pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Dean was somewhat surprised. "It seems you're more aware of things than I thought, Mr. Cobblepot."

Penguin dismissed his concern with a casual wave. "You mean the business you ruined? I know I was sold out, and I have a pretty good idea of who did it, but I can't touch him."

That morning, Penguin had lost five million dollars, not to mention the damage to his prestige in front of his men. For a gang boss in Gotham, losing respect could quickly lead to the collapse of everything he built. Gotham's criminals were a proud bunch, and if their leader lost his grip, his empire would fall apart.

Seeing Penguin's defeated posture, Dean realized that this failure had been orchestrated by someone far more powerful—someone manipulating events from the shadows.

"He's tired of it," Dean said, his tone turning serious.

Penguin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Dean leaned in, his eyes sharp. "He's tired of playing by the rules. He's tired of the Gotham that exists today. He wants to subvert everything—rebuild Gotham in his own image."

Penguin's eyes widened. "You're talking about *him*?"

Dean nodded. "He wants to create a new Gotham."

The Penguin's eyes narrowed, his face betraying concern. "I still don't understand."

Dean, reading the situation clearly, pressed on. "Don't play dumb, Mr. Cobblepot. You're not an idiot. If you're involved, I'm willing to bet you're more aware of this conspiracy than Batman is—and perhaps you've even warned him. But you can't be too obvious, or else you'll be eliminated."

Penguin lifted his umbrella, twirling it casually. "I've got more than one umbrella. These have saved me many times. But the real reason I'm where I am today isn't just luck or brute force—it's my intellect."

Dean, perplexed, asked, "What's more important than personal courage?"

Penguin's face twisted into a smile. "You're wrong."

Penguin opened his umbrella, resting it on his shoulder.

"Strength and wisdom are equally important. Without strength, wealth is useless. Without wisdom, power can't be held."

Dean frowned, realizing that Penguin had mastered the balance between cunning and power—something he himself still needed to grasp.

Through his monocle, Penguin studied Dean, sensing the young officer's thought process. "I know you want to cooperate with me, but I need to make sure you're not just some hot-headed fool who charges in without thinking."

Dean realized then that in terms of raw power, he could stand toe-to-toe with Gotham's second-tier players, but when it came to navigating Gotham's endless webs of intrigue, he was out of his depth. Gotham's criminal masterminds played a different game altogether.

Penguin got down to business. "Let me make something clear—the Penguin Gang doesn't offer military support. But financial backing? That's within my realm, though I doubt you'd accept it."

He continued, playing his usual game of manipulation. "All I can offer you is information."

The Penguin, known for his extensive network of spies (his "penguins"), was the most significant intelligence dealer in Gotham. His connections stretched across the city, and his information was often invaluable. Dean realized this was the resource he needed.

"Where's the man behind the scenes? Just tell me where he is."

Penguin cleaned his monocle with a silk handkerchief, then spoke slowly, his voice laced with an unsettling calm.

"I doubt Batman's figured it out yet. The man's hiding in the shadow of the Bat. As Batman's presence looms larger, the shadow he casts gets darker. The man's been hiding in that shadow for years."

As Penguin spoke, he revealed his knowledge of the true mastermind: "Indian Hill. That's where he's hiding. Deep underground, like a mole. But be careful, young officer—his influence spreads throughout Gotham. You'd do well to watch your back."

Dean left the Iceberg Lounge quickly, eager to distance himself from Penguin's manipulative games. The Penguin had a way of controlling the conversation, and Dean realized that if he stayed, he might be manipulated into becoming just another pawn.

After Dean left, Penguin immediately ordered his men to leave him undisturbed for the next 24 hours. Then, he descended to the bottom floor of the Iceberg Lounge.

There, in a specially designed safe room designed to withstand a nuclear winter, he lit a cigar and reclined on a sofa. On the large screen in front of him, a familiar face appeared—the man who had changed his life.

"Falcone, you were the one who helped me rise, and I'm grateful. You gave me the chance to build my empire, and I followed you loyally."

Penguin's voice trembled with anger. "But you've changed. You can't control the Bat anymore, so now you plan to tear everything down and rebuild Gotham in your image."

Penguin slammed his fist on the table, sending the red wine spilling across the floor.

"There's no place for me in your new world, is there, Falcone? You chose Black Mask instead—he's easier to control."

For the first time, Penguin's usually calm and collected demeanor cracked. He was no longer the poised gentleman—he was a cornered animal, fighting to survive.

But within moments, Penguin regained his composure, wiping the spilled wine from his suit. He chuckled softly.

"I've found a new partner. A young man with great potential. He's destined to rise and take Gordon's place. Unlike Gordon, he's willing to work with someone like me."

His eyes glinted with ambition. "In him, I see the Gotham you envisioned. But it's a pity…"

Penguin leaned back, his expression once again calm and calculating.