"Alright, see you in a bit."
Axel patted Oswald on the shoulder, then pushed open the large door.
Inside, Victor and Falcone watched him.
"Hello, I'm Axel. Looks like you've been waiting. My apologies for the slight delay—I had to finish an outrageously expensive steak first."
He nodded at them casually and sat on the sofa opposite Falcone, crossing his legs. Axel pulled out his pistol and leveled it at Victor, who stood beside Falcone.
"Although this is our first meeting, I assume the one sitting is Falcone, so you, standing, must be Sabatino, right?"
"No, I'm not," Victor said, confusion flickering across his face. "I am Victor Zsasz. I thought you'd have my information, but it seems I'm still an insignificant nobody in your eyes!"
Victor's sneer was cruel, the kind that thrived on being underestimated. Axel raised an eyebrow.
"You're smiling like you're about to eat a child. Keep a straight face. And Falcone, right? If Sabatino isn't here, what exactly are we discussing?"
Axel toyed with the Desert Eagle in his hand, amusement flickering across his expression. One sentence from Victor told him enough—they'd made a mistake.
If Falcone truly had all the intelligence they claimed, he'd know there was no "him" on Earth before today. It was just Axel, alone. So who did they think he represented? Who did they think was the "we" behind him?
Falcone frowned, considering the young man before him. Axel wasn't the Talon or the Court of Owls operative he'd imagined. Second-hand reports never captured reality. A brief encounter was enough for Falcone to reassess.
Falcone waved at Victor.
"Since Mr. Axel wants to see Sabatino, bring him here too. Curiosity calls."
Victor nodded and left with near-silent footsteps. Falcone's initial caution toward Axel had been tactical; he still didn't fully understand Axel's objective.
What drove Axel to attack the Iceberg Lounge? Sabatino? Or something else entirely? Falcone scrutinized every detail, from Axel's scuffed leather shoes to his cold, sharp pupils.
When their eyes met, Falcone froze. Those eyes mirrored his own, years ago—when he had resolved to carve a place for himself in Gotham. This young man radiated readiness.
Axel interrupted his thoughts with a casual wave toward Victor.
"Wait, Victor, could you bring some food and wine? You invite me to a meeting and forget the wine? A bit negligent for hosts, don't you think?"
Falcone nodded at Victor, who swiftly left. Once alone with Axel, Falcone spoke.
"Before meeting you, I thought you were a shadow of my past—friends I'd known long ago. But now I see my mistake. Fear seems distant. It takes someone like you to remind me it exists."
Axel nodded knowingly.
"You've made an error. Victor referred to me as 'you all,' but I'm alone. One is enough in this world. If another me appeared, I'd be the first to eliminate him. And Falcone, as your gaze grows sharper, what do you see in my eyes? Our eyes are… similar, aren't they?"
He clapped his hands, smiling.
"Before meeting you, I wondered who Falcone really was. Gotham calls you its king, but the streets here are treacherous beyond any godfather's reach. You are far more dangerous than any title. If I were the Axel of yesterday, I'd avoid you entirely. Life was precious then. Now? I see Gotham's danger as my playground."
Falcone smiled slightly, rubbing his ring.
"Only one? Who else do you think deserves that fear?"
"They're your old allies. The League of Assassins, the Court of Owls… Gotham is crawling with threats." Axel's chuckle carried amusement and warning.
Falcone's expression deepened with fascination.
"You know more than I expected. I thought you merely a talented youth, lucky to survive by chance."
"Yes, even you call it talent. But Falcone, this gift—my inability to die—has a single, critical prerequisite." Axel's tone darkened. He tapped the table with the Desert Eagle.
"I'll give you a chance to guess, a test of our understanding."
Falcone's brow lifted. "A chance, huh? Even if I'm not your target, I can become one. The ability to live beyond death is enviable. Were I granted it, I could rule the world."
"Bullshit! You don't understand. Gotham's waters are deep, but the world's waters are bottomless. Guess the prerequisite quickly—old men shouldn't swim these depths!" Axel interrupted, urgency in his voice.
Falcone nodded. "Not a riddle, but a prerequisite. I see… only those who have truly died can be reborn."
A melancholic sigh escaped him. "Even if you've lost your fear of death, how could I not understand it? Standing at death's edge for the first time… walking toward it… it's unpleasant beyond words. You came here to kill Sabatino, yes? Witness your first Death at his hands? Unforgivable hatred, troublesome indeed."
Falcone's gaze sharpened. "According to the GCPD, you resurrect, disappear before death, evade capture. You're intelligent, rational, fearless. Your abilities are a problem. Protecting Sabatino would cost me face."
A dangerous glint appeared. "Axel, understand me. Face is everything. Provoke me, and every predator in Gotham will see weakness. Were I young, I'd confront you, cleanse Gotham anew. But I am old. Even seeing my younger self in you, must we be locked in endless conflict?"
Axel spread his hands, nodding.
"Indeed, Falcone. But this is normal. Don't pretend to be regretful. Your hesitation comes not from benevolence, but from my being far more troublesome than any challenger before. Since my first Death, I've sought to savor Gotham's chaos fully. This is my destiny. If Gotham were a woman, I'd be her only man. Unending conflict? Perfectly natural."