Broken(DC)

"Life is unpredictable," I thought as I gazed at City Hall through the taxi window. A deal with my conscience that's what I could call what I was about to do.

Opening the door, I stepped out of the car. Surprisingly, it was a sunny day. Unusually warm for this time of year. Adjusting my suit, I headed for the gates.

The guards outside didn't stop me, merely watching me closely. Inside, at the reception desk, I approached the clerk.

"I need to see Mayor Cobblepot," I said.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"No, but tell him the Lame One is here," I replied. She studied me for a few seconds before picking up the phone and whispering something to someone. Receiving an answer, she nodded an almost unconscious reflex.

"You may go in. Do you need help finding your way?" she asked.

"No, I know where to go," I answered.

Inside, everything was the same as before: the guards watched me warily but didn't interfere. Reaching the mayor's office, I knocked. One of the guards opened the door, looked at me, and, recognizing who I was, silently let me in.

"If there's anyone I wasn't expecting today, it's you," Oswald said. Fatigue was evident on his face, though, as always, he frowned and smoked a cigar.

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"There were serious circumstances," I said.

"Talk. Why are you here? I thought we had already settled everything," Penguin asked sharply.

"I've come to form an alliance with you," I replied calmly.

"An alliance? In Gotham, I have no enemies left… except you," Oswald sneered before his expression darkened again.

"The Court of Owls," I interrupted.

His face changed instantly his jaw tightened, and the hand holding his cigar trembled slightly.

"Everyone out," he snapped at the guards. Once the room was empty, he stepped closer to me and muttered through gritted teeth, "Don't talk nonsense. Say it straight, or my patience will run out."

"I'll be direct: I want someone else as mayor someone who isn't a mobster. No, you're not an exemplary man, but at least you have some principles. The Court of Owls… those bastards deserve the harshest punishment. For a long time, I thought you were the one responsible for Gotham's decay. But they they are the true poison in this city," I said.

"I knew right away you weren't in Gotham just by chance," Penguin said, looking me straight in the eyes.

"We have a common enemy that must be destroyed," I continued.

"So, you're ready to get your hands dirty? What am I saying you're far more ruthless than I am. You slaughtered so many people in a single night, reducing their bodies to ash. At first, I refused to believe it was really you, but the facts speak for themselves. And now you're openly saying you want to kill me. Should I be happy about that?" Penguin asked.

"No. But I won't go against you. My enemy now is only the Court," I said.

He smirked at that.

"The Court of Owls… First, let me tell you something. Many years ago, some unknown people approached me. They were powerful and dangerous. They offered me help in my struggle for control in exchange for 'favors.' I agreed, hoping to get revenge for my humiliation. That was ten years ago. At first, everything went perfectly I became the most influential boss in Gotham, and no one dared to cross me. But then, these 'benefactors' decided to put a leash on me. They started clipping my wings, limiting my reach. That's when the idea of becoming mayor came to me. With more power, I thought I could eliminate the rest of my enemies."

"But you didn't expect to become their puppet," I interjected.

"Exactly. Those bastards from the Court of Owls control my every move. They've stripped me of my freedom. I can't leave my position, but I also can't get rid of them. Do you think I enjoy living like this?" Penguin stubbed out his cigar, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and took a large sip. "Two years ago, I decided to put an end to it, but they sent their people after me. I thought I was ready for anything, but I was wrong. My strength was running out, and I had to take a desperate step."

"You blew up two mansions," I said.

"Yes. That's how I got rid of one of them. But I knew for certain that everyone in the other house was innocent. I swore I would destroy everyone I could reach they believed my resolve. The Court of Owls wouldn't let that go unanswered, but they laid low, and we reached a truce.

"So tell me, how exactly do you plan to help me?" Oswald asked, watching me intently.

"I know a way to kill all the Talons," I said.

"Kill?" Penguin fell silent, staring at me, but then he slowly nodded. "I agree to an alliance. But there's something we need to discuss. When I step down as mayor, you will not harm me or my people," Oswald said.

"Deal. In return, you will cease all trade except for weapons and focus solely on the port," I replied. Controlling the arms trade in Gotham was nearly impossible there was simply too much of it. But this way, at least there would be only one monopolist.

"You're getting bold," Oswald said, his tone measured.

"Didn't you say you wanted a peaceful life? You said it yourself, and I'm even willing to protect you," I said.

"Agreed. But know this if you break your part of the deal, I will burn everything to the ground," Penguin warned.

"Then tell me honestly what is it that you really want? It always seemed like nothing mattered more to you than power," I asked, looking him directly in the eyes.

"It used to be that way. But we are not friends, you and I, to discuss such things. It's time for you to go. I have a lot to think about," Oswald replied.

Rising from my chair, I headed for the exit.

It seemed I didn't know Oswald at all.

Perhaps behind the mask of Gotham's most dangerous man, there was something more.

He wore more than one mask one was the Penguin, a ruthless crime lord willing to destroy anyone in his way.

And the other was Oswald Cobblepot, who, perhaps, never wanted this war at all.

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

POV Oswald Cobblepot

An upstart who thinks he's someone important. Just a boy at first glance, but behind that face hides a terrifying bastard. He might even seem like a man of honor, a righteous one. But people like him never change. He's willing to spill rivers of blood to achieve his goal. And he will keep doing it.

Yet, despite that, he can be worked with.

Mad Strange is unreliable, and even Bane's subordinate won't be able to handle the Court of Owls alone. Those damn immortal soldiers! If not for them, I would have wiped everyone out long ago.

Ring.

Seeing the number on the screen, I quickly pushed aside unnecessary thoughts and switched to a secure channel. Masking my irritation, I answered the call.

"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep my voice soft.

"Nothing, I just missed you and wanted to hear your voice," my wife replied.

For her, I would break the necks of anyone who stood in our way. But this was a dangerous game with high stakes. I remembered the days when I walked over people without looking back, but now, the stakes were too high. And the one thing I treasured most was in danger.

What a difficult choice love or power.

"Everything's fine. Soon, we'll see each other much more often," I said. I had to take her out of the country and hide her somewhere they couldn't reach her.

"I hope so. I miss you, Oswald," she said tenderly.

"Very soon, my love, we'll be together again," I promised.

"You know, recently I went..." she began telling me something trivial, but to me, her voice was a real comfort. All my worries faded into the background when I listened to her. She loved me despite my past, despite the vile soul I hid from everyone.

Can I not do the same for her?

Can I not give her the peaceful life she deserves?

"Forgive me, Victoria. Business won't wait," I had to cut her off. Right now, I couldn't afford to waste a single minute.

"Alright, I'll wait for your call," she said. After a brief goodbye, I hung up.

And yet… how did the Lame One heal his leg?

I know about his old injury, but now he moves without any trouble.

Maybe my own deformities can be healed too?

End POV.

**********

"Aaaaaah!"

The scream echoed through the underground chamber. On the concrete platform, Bruce dragged a heavy load chained behind him, rebuilding his physical strength. A long scar stretched across his back a reminder of his injury and the grueling surgery that followed. But success spoke for itself: he was standing on his own two feet.

Tensing every muscle, he shifted the weight once more, finally crossing the marked line before letting the chains drop. With a heavy clang, they hit the concrete, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Master Bruce, I must commend you your strength is returning," Alfred remarked, as composed and unshaken as ever.

"Strength isn't always the greatest advantage. My coordination and reflexes still leave much to be desired," Bruce replied, wiping away sweat.

Alfred merely sighed. Excessive pride could sometimes cloud one's judgment, but Bruce was always too hard on himself.

"You're doing remarkably well, Master Bruce. And, fortunately, thanks to your sheer willpower, your recovery is progressing quickly," Alfred said.

"No. Too slowly. The situation in the city won't allow me any more time to rest," Bruce said, striding toward the computer.

"If I may disagree, sir. Despite recent events, Gotham is stable for now," Alfred countered.

"That's what worries me the most. I can feel something brewing, and I need to be ready to protect the people," Bruce said, flipping through screens until a series of images appeared.

The photographs displayed a young man in a business suit, leaning on a cane.

"And I know exactly where to start."

"Be careful with your assumptions. I refuse to believe he could have changed so much," Alfred cautioned.

"We knew him as someone else. Too much time has passed," Bruce replied coldly.

**********

A Few Hours Later

POV Brian Forman

The day's business wasn't over yet. I had received a call from James Gordon he wanted to discuss something important and insisted that I come.

The Court of Owls must have figured out who was watching them, and there were likely officers in the department working for them. This was dangerous, but refusing Gordon wasn't really an option. It's hard to fight openly against those who lurk in the shadows.

I had no choice but to meet with him and find out what was going on.

The police station was as busy as ever people constantly coming and going, detainees being led to holding cells, and some sitting on benches, handcuffed, awaiting their fate. No one seemed to pay me much attention, allowing me to make my way toward Gordon's office without trouble.

"Sorry, sir, but you can't go in there," a woman with dark skin stopped me. She wore a tank top under a blazer, her gaze sharp and confident.

My eyes involuntarily dropped lower.

"My eyes are up here," she added coldly, noticing I was staring a little too closely at her badge.

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"Ah, my apologies," I said calmly. "I have a meeting with Commissioner James Gordon. He's expecting me."

"Hmm, alright, but I'll escort you," she replied, giving me a suspicious once-over.

I shrugged and made my way to the office, climbing the stairs to the second floor. Approaching the door, I knocked and waited for a response.

The commissioner was seated at his desk, flipping through documents and making notes.

"It's you, Brian," Gordon said, shifting his gaze to the detective. "Detective Renée Montoya, is there something you need?"

"No, I just wanted to be sure," she replied, eyes gleaming, before heading off to her duties.

I stepped inside, closed the door, and looked at the commissioner.

"You wanted to talk?" I asked.

"This is a very serious conversation," James Gordon replied.

He opened a drawer, pulled out a folder, and placed it in front of him right next to a revolver. The sight of the weapon made my muscles tense involuntarily.

"Just today, I received these documents from the federal agencies. They're demanding your arrest for numerous crimes."

I opened the folder and saw my file. Case number 65M34, suspect Brian Forman, also known as The Lame The charges included murder, bribery, large-scale fraud, and tax evasion. The last one made me chuckle.

"Funny?" Gordon said through clenched teeth. "I could arrest you right now, lock you up and throw away the key. The only reason I haven't is because I know you've helped the police. So tell me are these accusations false?"

The agencies did have some information on me, but its credibility was questionable at best. The only thing they could definitively charge me with was my involvement in certain illegal operations. All the evidence they had was circumstantial not enough for a conviction, but enough to raise suspicion. Everything pointed to the Court of Owls.

"It's true. I won't lie or make excuses. But you need to understand something I never chose this life. I've done everything I can to fix the mistakes of my past. I didn't come to Gotham for power or money. I came to help this city."

My words didn't seem to faze him. His gaze remained as sharp and piercing as ever.

"You've certainly learned how to talk," Gordon said, not bothering to hide his anger or disappointment. "You're trying to manipulate me, to make me believe you have noble intentions. But I'm not some old fool who's easily swayed. As of this moment, our paths diverge. I'm giving you one chance leave Gotham. Tomorrow, I'll issue an arrest warrant, and if you resist, my officers have orders to shoot."

His tone left no room for negotiation.

Well then, the game with the Court of Owls had just become more complicated but it was far from over. This was just the beginning.

"Don't refuse help," I said, pulling out a document and handing it to him. "Here's the paperwork that gives you legal rights to the equipment manufacturing plant. All it needs is your signature."

I understood why he hesitated. James Gordon was a man of honor he couldn't cross the very law he had sworn to uphold. If he did, everything he had fought for would be meaningless.

We stood in silence, locked in a tense stare, as if neither of us wanted to be the first to break it. Then, the door creaked open.

"Dad?" A familiar voice peeked in Barbara.

"Barbara?" Gordon replied, surprised.

"Oh, you're busy… I'll come back later," she said after noticing me.

"No, we're done," he answered curtly.

I stepped aside, giving her space, nodding slightly in farewell before crossing the threshold.

For a brief moment, I felt tempted to stay, to wait for her. But it was too dangerous for her, at least for now. Maybe, one day, when this was all over, I'd ask her to dinner. But only when the Court of Owls was no longer a looming threat.

Home, family... I found myself thinking about it more and more. Dreams of peace, quiet, fresh air somewhere far away from the endless battles and schemes, in a small village. But maybe that life wasn't meant for me.

Before I could shake off those thoughts, my feet had already led me to the printing house.

"Such a tragedy. Their newspaper issues were always good… Shame the owners had to die in that fire," a passerby murmured beside me.

I had to meet John Constantine. The Penguin would only act when he knew all the pieces were in his favor. So, I had to make the magician move faster.