Chapter 25: The Penguin

For a time, Batman’s popularity in Gotham City plummeted.

Bruce, however, did not care much about this. A major reason he had become Batman was to pose a credible threat to criminals; perhaps a tarnished reputation would make the villains of Gotham fear him even more.

"Master Bruce, are you alright?" Alfred asked cautiously as he served coffee and bacon and eggs to Bruce, who was reading the newspaper.

"It’s fine, Alfred." Bruce smiled, eating his breakfast while scanning the paper. "Though, I think I need to go pay this photographer a visit."

***

An abandoned church.

"Huh? I never thought a big-shot like Batman would do something like this. You really can’t judge a book by its cover," Roland remarked, reading the paper while eating a piece of bread.

"I think Batman must have been framed," Jason said.

"That goes without saying." Roland folded the paper. "I’ve got it. Go gather the others and have them spread a rumor for me."

"What kind of rumor?"

"That Batman’s true identity is..." Roland glanced at the paper, "Dian Gilden. Yes, that’s the one."

"Isn’t that the photographer who takes pictures of Batman?" Jason looked at the paper as well. "Does that even make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense! Haven't you ever read 'Spider-Man'?" Roland coaxed. "Why is Peter Parker always able to get exclusive shots of Spider-Man fighting villains? Because he is Spider-Man himself, obviously."

"...I’ll go tell them to spread the word," Jason hesitated, "but why are you doing this?"

"Because this little jerk managed to snap a photo of me, too," Roland said, pointing to a picture.

"Your method of revenge is absurd," Jason noted.

"Just wait and see the show," Roland smiled. "Daring to stalk Batman and then plastering his own name on the credits—this guy is clearly bait. Since that’s the case, it’s only logical for me to use this chum to attract even bigger fish, right?"

"I see." Jason nodded. "I’ll get it arranged."

*A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.* — Mark Twain

***

A few hours later, rumors about Batman were rampant throughout Gotham City, and the claim spread by Roland—that the photographer was Batman—gained massive traction.

These rumors quickly caught the attention of a major underworld boss: Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. He went by another name: The Penguin.

"Let’s go. I think it’s time we pay this reporter a visit." The Penguin grabbed a sophisticated-looking umbrella, donned his top hat and tuxedo, and adjusted his 1980s-style monocle, looking impeccably formal. Behind him stood two two-meter-tall thugs in black suits, following him in silent, hulking guard.

***

*The Gotham Gazette* offices.

"Boss, are you sure this is okay?" star photographer Dian Gilden whispered into his phone, hiding in the restroom. "Several groups have already come looking for me today. They don't look like friendly people."

"What are you worried about? With my arrangements, how could you possibly come to any harm?" a scolding voice replied from the other end. "Keep testing them. See if any of them have a suspicious identity."

"...I feel like everyone who comes to see me has a suspicious identity," Dian replied after a moment.

"I’m telling you to see if Batman is among them!"

"About that... I don't think so."

"You idiot! Be careful—if you ruin my plans, don't blame me for what happens!"

The line went dead. Dian sighed, flushed the toilet, and walked out.

"Dian, someone is here to see you. Seems like a very wealthy gentleman," the editor’s secretary winked at him. "Looks like you’ve become a celebrity overnight. Your future is bright."

Normally, this would have made his heart race, but Dian had no mood for such things now. He simply walked silently to the reception room.

Sitting in the room was a short, stout man. He looked quite peculiar, almost like a penguin, though his attire was impeccably tailored. While he dressed like a high-society gentleman, the cunning and sinister glint in his eyes made it impossible to mistake him for one.

"Hello. How can I help you?" Dian asked.

"Hello, Batman," the Penguin said, poking the tip of his umbrella into Dian’s chest. "Let me introduce myself. I am Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. You’ve certainly caused quite a bit of trouble for my business."

"I... I’m not Batman..." Dian stammered.

"You play the part well," the Penguin sneered. "If I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe a cowardly, unremarkable wretch like you could be Batman."

"I’m really not Batman..." Dian stepped back. "I’m just a photographer. I just happened to capture photos of Batman by chance..."

"Oh, catching Batman in one place could be called a coincidence. But catching him in five different locations... hehehe..." The Penguin let out a strange cackle. "I have to say, Batman, I assumed you were some billionaire to afford all that expensive gear. Who would have thought you’d have to resort to selling photos of yourself to make a living?"

"I’m really not Batman..." Seeing that the Penguin was impervious to reason and showing signs of attacking, Dian decided to strike first and subdue him. After all, he had been a street brawler, and he didn't think taking down a short guy would be difficult.

However, despite his short stature, the Penguin had trained in martial arts and judo. His strength and close-quarters combat skills were not to be underestimated; while he couldn't beat the real Batman, handling Dian was no challenge at all.

The Penguin dove forward, caught Dian’s fist, tucked his other hand under Dian’s ribs, and executed a clean shoulder throw.

"Don't underestimate my fighting ability..." the Penguin said, pinning Dian down triumphantly.

Just then, a person in a sharp suit pushed the door open. "Let him go, Cobblepot."

"A Falcone? What do you want?" The Penguin looked back to see a woman in a red dress, whom he had crossed paths with at a few galas.

"He’s one of ours."

"Are you joking? Batman is one of yours?" The Penguin laughed derisively. "Hasn't Batman been constantly fighting against the Falcone family?"

"He isn't Batman. He’s the bait we’re using to catch Batman. Those photos were taken by our people."

"I have a question," the Penguin frowned. "When you were taking those photos, why didn't you just capture him? Or better yet, why not just shoot Batman dead?"