If the Wayne Building represents Gotham's historical glory, then the Iceberg Restaurant in the Diamond District represents Gotham's wealth and luxury.

For more than a decade, this Michelin three-star restaurant with expensive consumption and top-level services has always been a symbol of the upper class. Those who enter and leave are either rich or noble. Whether they can book seats on weekends and afternoons is a great trick for ladies to identify their boyfriends’ value.

It was evening, and the restaurant manager, who had a meticulous mustache, had a cold face. He ignored the protests and questions from customers outside the restaurant, and was alone in the door frame.

"I have already booked a seat, why don't I let me in?" A playful and generous boy who hugged his female companion shouted impatiently: "I told your boss to open the door quickly, do you still want to do it?"

The restaurant manager didn't say anything, and didn't even glance at Kuo Shao. He just rolled up his sleeves and checked the time on the watch.

The rich young man who came from Europe to study gilded was even more annoyed. He was about to say the dirty words that had been brewing for a moment. The female companion next to him gently pulled his clothes and leaned into his ear and said, "This is Mr. Coppert's restaurant."

Copper, the word seemed to have magical power. The rich young man who was still stalking his neck just now stopped, his face changed, and he silently retreated into the crowd.

As the brakes rang out, a sports car parked by the road, and Oswald Copper, the bloated gangster giant, walked out of the car.

The penguin still held the umbrella, but the arms seemed a little dissonant. She could only use the umbrella to act as a crutch to support the weight of her body and limped forward.

The crowded crowds separated automatically in front of him, just like the sea separated by Moses in the biblical story.

The restaurant manager, who had been waiting for a long time, rushed over to support him, bathed in everyone's eyes, and supported the penguin people to walk into the restaurant.

The whole process was going on in silence, and no one in the crowd dared to laugh, and no one dared to stare at Coppert's staggering steps. They could only stare at the back of the penguin, watching the bloated, fat, small and deformed man walk up the second floor.

After a long time, the restaurant manager went downstairs and hung the wooden sign "rest" on the glass door.

He bowed gently and modestly, and said, "Iceberg Restaurant is only for Mr. Copper today, please forgive me."

No one protested, and there was not even the arrogant and domineering rich young man, and the crowd dispersed in the blink of an eye.

On the top floor of the restaurant, near the window, the penguin man sticks to the dining table and slowly ties his napkins.

The Kitagibashi, which was airlifted from Shiraocho Town, Hokkaido, was made into a sashimi. It was sweet and fresh. It was crispy when chewed, and it also had a bit of sea breeze.

The penguin eats very slowly, and his eyes are not concentrated on the plate, but the newspaper behind the plate, with the title "An Explosion Attack in the Arkham Mental Hospital" and the subtitle is "Several Patients Escape".

This is the news on the surface. All Gotham citizens think this is another jailbreak drama created by the villain who spreads chaos.

However, the penguin in a high position knew a deeper inside story - Arkham was indeed attacked.

The attackers did a neat job, first using micro explosives to trigger an explosion in various parts of the corridor. While everyone was in a hurry, they broke through the cells that were imprisoned by "extremely dangerous people" and plundered all the "high value" targets inside.

Poison ivy women, fireflies, frozen man, scarecrow, and doctor of phosphorus... none of these prisoners with more or less special abilities were left, and they were kidnapped. When the security personnel of the Arkham Hospital arrived and Gotham Tiaozi, they were all empty cells left opposite them.

Batman is gone, who can stop these evil people from escaping?

The penguin retracted his eyes from the newspaper and stared at his palm.

Although the palm of the right hand that was slaughtered off on the rooftop was spliced ​​in time, an action with a slightly larger amplitude would cause an uncontrollable itch to extend out of the bone marrow.

It was like tens of millions of needles piercing the cross section of the wrist, as if someone was poking the skin back and forth with a brush. The penguin wanted to cut off the palm of his hand again with a dining knife and mash it into minced meat to prevent this unbearable itching.

After all, he didn't do that, just turned over his palm indifferently, pulled open his gloves, and inspected the scars left by Renshu.

Or, there is another possibility that the attack on Arkham was not a long-standing criminal, but the slaughter of the famous man.

There are no airtight walls in the world. The Penguin has long learned about the battle that took place in the snow in the suburbs through various channels.

All the killers sent by the Owl Court were destroyed, and the Assassin Alliance that sneaked into Gotham was probably wiped out. The human slaughter was like a giant celestial body hanging high above the sky, illuminating every dark corner of Gotham with a fiery but without any emotion.

Are the poison ivy women, fireflies and others killed or imprisoned?

The penguin didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to stay in this restaurant, resisting all external messages like an ostrich. He didn't even dare to escape, for fear of being slaughtered on the way out of the city, and there was no news since then.

"I want something."

A man's voice suddenly rang downstairs, and the penguin stood up from his seat, holding the handle of the umbrella and aimed at the entrance of the stairs.

"This thing is owned by the poor and the rich need it."

The man's voice was getting closer and closer, and the corners of the penguin's mouth sank, grim and cold.

"If you eat it, you'll die."

The speaker walked up the stairs and his boots stepped on the floor of the hall.

This is a middle-aged man wearing a green suit, green trousers and a green hat. He is wearing red gloves and holding a yellow cane. The top of his palm is bent into the shape of a question mark.

He is a Ridder Man, whose original name is Edward Nigma, has a high IQ and antisocial personality. He has been engaged in terrorist attacks indoors in Gotham for many years. He is a regular visitor to the Arkham Mental Hospital, one of Batman's enemies, and an old acquaintance of the Penguin.

"Now, Copper, tell me, what do I want?"

The riddle man swung his cane and sat briskly on the railing, swaying his legs nervously, like a duck who knows how to float.

The penguin put down the umbrella and said coldly, "The poor have it and the rich need it, so it is naturally nothing."

"Yes." The Ridder jumped off the railing happily, sat on the seat next to the Penguin, pulled the plate over and picked up food for himself, "Oh my God, I'm about to starve to death."

The penguin sat down slowly, looked at the slightly shabby clothes on the Ridder's body, and said coldly: "Aren't you in the Arkham Mental Hospital? How did you get out?"

"If I walked out of the main door with a swagger, do you believe?" The rider shrugged indifferently and said casually: "That night, I was lying in bed thinking about the problem, and I heard a violent explosion. A yellow-haired British man rushed into the prison and somehow detained other special people in detention, taking them all away, and I escaped in the chaos."

"British?" the penguin frowned and said, "Who is he?"

"I don't know," replied the Ridder, "but I can infer from his stubble, the sauce stained on his brown windbreaker and the mud stained on his shoes that he should live in the suburbs of the city, often go to fast food restaurants to eat junk food, smoke, drink alcohol, have a history of drug use, but has not been infected recently, and his life is under great pressure..."

"Stop, stop, stop." The penguin interrupted the Ridder's inference and said, "Don't tell me this, I don't want to know at all."

"You don't know, either." The Ridder rolled his eyes, "Our team needs you."

"Team?" Penguin smiled contemptuously and said contemptuously: "What are you doing? Are you going to make a big fuss about Gotham."

"It's not like that," the Ridder man gradually faded away the laughing expression on his face and said solemnly: "Batman is dead, and the Poison Ivy Girls and others have been taken away. For us, Gotham has never been so dangerous.

The shadow of the bat was lost in the night sky, but it was exchanged for a more deadly hawk. I joined a team not to make a big fuss about Gotham, but to protect myself.”

"That's your business." The penguin said without hesitation: "Don't pull me in."

The Ridder man lowered his eyes, "I'm afraid it's too late. Do you know who killed Batman? You're the closest person to the real murderer, right?"

As if in response to his words, the calm footsteps of high heels sounded from downstairs, and a slightly short and fat middle-aged black woman walked up.

She was wearing workplace clothes, with a buzz cut, and had pearl earrings hanging on her ears, looking quite tough and difficult, "My name is Amanda Waller, and she belongs to the CIA."

The penguin narrowed his eyes and changed his mind. The CIA has six offices directly belonging to the director and deputy director, as well as four departments: the Management Office, the Operations Office, the Intelligence Office, and the Science and Technology Office. However, tens of thousands of employees here still have to obey the president and Congress after all.

The black woman in front of her is at most a big shot under the National Security Council. With his connections and influence in Congress, the other party can be in trouble in a minute.

With this mentality, Penguin still maintains his reserve as a capitalist. He changed his sights between Amanda and the Ridder Man before speaking for a while: "The team that the Ridder Man mentioned was formed by you?"

"It's me," Amanda said frankly: "The CIA has a secret plan to search for criminals with special abilities from prisons and transform them into elite fighters who can serve the Federation."

The penguin narrowed his eyes. He knew a little about the secrets of the federal privacy within the West Coast, and pointed to the riddle and said, "He is also serving you?"

"To some extent, yes." Amanda nodded, "We influenced Mr. Nigma."

"Influence?" The penguin almost laughed, "I'm afraid he was holding his vitals hostage in some way and forcing him to serve you under the threat of death."

Amanda nodded undeniably, "The department I belonged to has been paying attention to Gotham for a long time. After the attack on the Arkham Mental Hospital, we immediately sent elite soldiers to capture the dangerous people who escaped in time, including Mr. Nigma."

"Sounds great." The penguin smiled slightly, sat back on the chair, and said calmly: "Continue talking, I'm listening."

"Gotham is in danger," Amanda continued: "The criminal code-named Man Slaughter participated in several murders and was identified by our intelligence as a high-risk criminal who poses a threat to national security. He cannot be allowed to continue to act recklessly in Gotham."

She threw a stack of photos on the table, stretched out her stubborn fingers, and spread the photos of the crime scene one by one: "The Sapa Manor massacre, Batman's disappearance, the entire killing of Hydra and its leader Baron Strack, the missing owl court killer in the snow in the suburbs, the Assassin League team led by Lars Goul Al, and even swallowed the Arkham attack case... These things are connected together, pointing the clues to the man who slaughtered, and you can help us find him."

The penguin remained silent. He looked at the photos, and his eyes under the lens did not have any emotion. "First of all, why should I help you? Secondly, from the moment, the enemies that Renshu targeted were limited to criminals who were highly threatening to society. In the moral concept of the general public, Renshu was a completely good person, but his methods were slightly extreme."

"Haha," Amanda sneered: "When an independent individual possesses force beyond the conventional rule, he is a threat to the country. What's more, according to the profile evaluation results of our department's psychological analysts, the moral concept of human slaughter is extremely weak, and he doesn't mind the massacre. He is a dark box bomb that can explode at any time."

"Well, even if he is a threat, what does it have to do with me? I am a businessman, that's all."

Amanda Waller smiled, and she took out a photo that was probably taken from CCTV surveillance system and pressed it on the table, "The man in the photo is called Constantine, an exorcist, a mysterious warlock. He disappeared in Gotham a few months ago. This time he participated in the terrorist attack on the Arkham Mental Hospital. We speculate that he has some connection with the slaughter, and even directly worked for the slaughter.

I'm afraid that the reason you only broke one hand, not lost your head, is because you, like Constantine, work for the slaughter of human beings out of coercion, don't you want to get rid of this Damocles sword hanging around your neck?"

The Penguin was silent. He pushed his glasses and said in a deep voice: "So you want to catch him? I always thought this was what S.H.E.L.D. should do."

Amanda said coldly: "National Security Agency CIA, FBI, Homeland Security Agency DHS, National Geographic Intelligence Agency NGA, and National Reconnaissance Office NRO, all five departments have their own action plans for the extraordinary, and they often cooperate with S.H.E.L.D. within their functions, and I represent CIA."

That's all, Penguin can't pretend to be stupid anymore. Amanda Waller's official position may not be as high as the director of SHIELD, but her sphere of authority is absolutely quite large, and she is even directly responsible for the White House.

It's ridiculous to say that the Penguin's identity as a capitalist is the reason why Amanda Waller put on a respectful attitude. If he had extraordinary force like others and had no corresponding social status, he would have been dragged into a small black room and forced to confess.

"..." Penguin twitched his face and said coldly: "Manshu asked me to deal with the corpses of the Hydra soldiers on the rooftop, that's all."

Amanda skipped the topic and asked bluntly: "So, do you still have his contact information?"
Chapter completed!