When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a sterile, white ceiling. Cobblepot tilted his head and saw his bodyguard standing to the side with a grim expression. Shifting his gaze further, he saw Jay sitting in a chair by the bed, nonchalantly peeling an orange.
"Hi, Jay. You're here? I'm so sorry, I should have woken up sooner."
Cobblepot's face was still a mosaic of purple and blue bruises, but he managed a weak smile. "I heard that thanks to you, the 'misunderstanding' with Lord Falcone was—"
"Not worth mentioning." Jay cut him off with a wave of his hand and stood up, looking down at him from his full height. "Last time, it was me lying in the hospital bed. Now… the tables have turned?"
Cobblepot looked a bit dazed. Jay paced around the room twice before turning back with a sharp question: "Oswald, I need to talk to you… about the theft from Lord Falcone's vault."
"Cough… hack… cough!"
Cobblepot clutched his throat and broke into a violent coughing fit. He kept it up for two full minutes until he realized Jay was just watching him, unmoved. He stopped sheepishly and gestured for his bodyguard to leave the room.
"Alright, Jay. I will always remember that you saved my life by taking me out of the Falcone estate. I will be forever loyal to you. No matter what you ask, I won't refuse."
"Oswald…"
Jay slowly drifted to the bedside, his shadow looming over Cobblepot. "Swear to me that you didn't hijack that money."
"I swear, Jay. Lord Falcone's money was taken by Black Mask."
"I'm talking about the second time. The second time the Roman's vault was hit."
"I swear, the second time the vault was hit, it wasn't me either."
"Swear on your mother's name, Oswald."
"You shouldn't be like this, Jay. I consider you my best friend, and yet you suspect me like this, extorting me again and again…"
Cobblepot put on a look of tragic indignation. "I love my mother, but for you, I am willing to swear on her name. The second heist on Lord Falcone's vault was not my doing."
"Oh, I'm truly sorry then, Oswald. I suppose I have been a bit paranoid. Don't take it personally; after all, we're frien—wait!"
Jay retracted the hand he was about to pat on Cobblepot's shoulder. He squinted and began to smile.
"Oswald, you surely won't mind doing it one more time. Swear on your mother's name that the money is not with you, and that you didn't hire the people who did it."
"Jay…"
Cobblepot's expression darkened, his chest heaving rapidly. "You can insult me, but do not insult my mother… As for that twelve million… I can! Swear on my mother's name! It is definitely not currently inside my hospital gown! Please, stop pushing me, I beg you."
"Ah… so that's how it is…"
Jay nodded earnestly, helpfully fluffing the pillow behind Cobblepot's back before sitting back down. "Oswald, you truly are a… linguistic artist. Fine, I believe you. Now, on to the next topic."
"Falcone has lost nearly twenty million in succession. He's not finished, but he's definitely crippled. And yesterday…"
Jay reached for another orange and peeled it. "Want a piece?"
"Oh, no thank you." Cobblepot forced a smile, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "What happened yesterday?"
"Yesterday, Falcone's men caught Black Mask's tail. There was a violent conflict. Falcone lost a lot of men."
Cobblepot's eyes visibly brightened for a split second before returning to a neutral, almost mournful look. "That news is so tragic. It's a pity I couldn't be there personally to…"
"Tsk… this is so boring… Oswald, you're getting too good at staying composed." Jay shook his head impatiently. "Too much caution looks like cowardice. Since you plan on staying this way, I'll just have to find another partner. Get well soon, Oswald. Goodbye."
With that, he stood up and headed for the door without looking back.
"Wait! Wait, Jay!"
Cobblepot lunged upward, hopping off the bed and limping a few steps to grab Jay's hand.
"Wait, Jay. We… we can speak more frankly."
"Looks like you're recovering fast, Oswald." Jay smiled slightly and waved him back to bed.
"Let's talk about something practical. Like I said before, Falcone is old. I think someone who understands cooperation and doesn't act on impulse is better suited for the leadership chair.
The GCPD doesn't want this city falling into chaos either. What about you, Oswald? Think before you answer. I won't ask a second time. Do you want to replace him?"
Cobblepot's jaw twitched, but he forced it still. His eyes stared unblinkingly at Jay. After a few minutes, a sinister, predatory look appeared on his face—like a raptor ruffling its feathers. He slowly nodded.
"Jay, if our plan can…"
"There is no plan. I don't have one."
"Huh?" Cobblepot's momentum instantly deflated. "Then you…"
"First, I need to know if you have the resolve and the courage. Someone who wants to rise must be able to bear the responsibility and the risk, not hide in the back like a chick all day. Oh, and one more thing just occurred to me."
He pointed at Cobblepot. "Think about it, Oswald. Even if you actually take the Roman's seat, will what he is experiencing today—from his subordinates, from his enemies—eventually happen to you?"
"Mr. Cobblepot, does your ambition stop there? Think of your family and your mother. For them, don't you want to go a step further?"
"A… step further?" Cobblepot hadn't even let himself think that far. "That would be quite far indeed."
"But you have to have the vision first."
"I…"
…
BANG!
A gunshot rang out. The bullet punched through the black silhouette on the target paper and slid down the angled grate into the collection bin.
Jay lowered his gun, exhaled, and sank his consciousness into his mind.
Finally, the skill had upgraded!
*[Your understanding and proficiency with most thermal weapons have reached the level of: Mastery]
*[You use various firearms with ease, even capable of pulling off incredible (and absurd) trick shots]
*[Your base accuracy has increased by 5%]
[Upgrade Task: Firearm Disassembly/Maintenance: 0/2000 | Firearm Shooting: 0/2000]
*[Complete all tasks to increase skill level]
…Mastery is fine, but what's with the "(and absurd)" part in the parentheses?!
Whatever. He trash-talked people every day; he supposed it was only karma that the system was trash-talking him now.
By the time he walked out of the precinct's underground range, it was after 10:00 PM. The lights in the Forensics Lab were still on.
"What time is it…"
He pushed the door open and found Nygma, not tinkering with his odd gadgets, but hunched over the desk reading something.
"Ed?"
"Hi, Captain."
Nygma put down the volume. Jay caught a glimpse of the cover: Deep Deconstruction and Research of Flight Dynamics.
…What even is that…
He picked it up and read two pages. He recognized every letter, but put together, he couldn't even pronounce the words, let alone understand them.
"You're…"
"Just learning something new. Those are the books I bought today."
Jay looked where he pointed. On the shelf, besides the usual personnel files and news archives, there were dozens of new books on fluid dynamics, evolution, infectious diseases, the internet, electronic circuit modification, and more.
"Uh…" He looked at Nygma, stunned. "I didn't expect a guy as smart as you to still need to read this stuff."
"Intelligence and learning are two different things. No matter how brilliant the brain, knowledge doesn't fly into it on its own." Nygma smiled. "Was there something you needed, Captain?"
"No. I just feel like everything makes sense when you say it."
He wandered aimlessly around the lab. "By the way, how's the dismemberment case?"
"No useful leads yet. I've only noticed that the killer always chooses the filthiest places to dump the remains. Perhaps it stems from a profound dissatisfaction with his 'works'."
Nygma opened his notebook and pulled out a page of theories. "If that's the case, he might have severe OCD—unable to tolerate any imperfection. But currently, we don't know what his standard for 'perfect' is."
"However, I suggest starting with the materials needed for surgery. Anesthetics, steroids, the latex used for masks—especially the anesthetics. There's a high probability they come from the black market. As for the dump sites…"
He paused, arching an eyebrow. "I think Otis can help with that."
"Riddle Time: "Nygma said mysteriously. "What passes through walls without a shadow, coming and going through the streets day and night? Feasting under the moonlight, whispering my name in the dark?"
"Ha! Too easy. We deal with them every day." Jay gave a confident thumbs-up. "Smugglers!"
"You're doing that on purpose! Get out!!"
Jay scrambled back to the lobby. There weren't many prisoners today. To his surprise, Chief Bob was still there, sitting in a chair with other officers watching Friends.
"Hey, Boss! Why aren't you home? Planning on pulling a double shift to supervise us?"
"When you get to my age, you'll realize that sometimes being at work is better than being at home." Bob held a cigarette in one hand, laughing until he was red in the face. "They don't know that we know they know we know! Hahaha!"
After laughing a bit, he wiped a tear from his eye and looked at Jay, who was staring at him strangely. "You don't think it's funny? Why aren't you laughing?"
"To be honest, I've seen bits of it, but I can't even figure out how these people are related to each other." Jay shrugged. "So…"
"Oh, you really do like things orderly. But take it from me—enjoy the moment. Live for now." Bob shook his head. "By the time you get everything 'orderly,' it might be too late."
He leaned closer to Jay. "By the way, some internal news from City Hall. Loeb is likely on his way out. But since I backed down last time, my chances aren't great. The current favorite is Chief Nathaniel Barnes."
Bob leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blowing a smoke ring toward the floor. He looked a bit dejected. He turned to Jay. "Sorry, kid. You planned for so long, and I blew it."
"It's fine, Boss. There are plenty of opportunities." Jay gestured subtly toward the duty officers in the lobby. "At least you didn't send them to their deaths, right? You're a good man."
"Don't give me that shit. Good men don't live long in Gotham." Bob crushed his cigarette on the floor and stood up, grabbing his briefcase. "Alright, I'm heading out."
"Wait, Boss."
Jay called out to him, pointing at the cigarette butt on the floor. "Didn't you issue the regulation about fines for littering and damaging the environment last week?"
Bob: "??? "
——————
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