RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE!
The Ford E350's engine roared deafeningly. The huge GCPD decals on the body sent all the smart street thugs scattering far away.
The bar inside heard the commotion. Cobblepot's bodyguard, Gabe, led a few lackeys out aggressively, only to see Jay jump out of the car with his hand near his holstered gun.
Gabe instinctively clutched his fingers.
"Officer…"
"Get out of the way!"
Jay shoved him aside. "Where is Cobblepot? I'm stating this beforehand: if he dares to run, he and all of you will be treated as resisting arrest."
"Ah!"
Gabe and his crew were stunned. A plump man in his forties stood there, looking like he was about to cry, frozen in place.
They watched the officer barge in without looking back, catching a hastily rushing Cobblepot right in the hallway.
"Hi! Jay, my frie… Wait! Wait! Ah!"
The small man was grabbed by the collar and lifted high, then slammed against the wall. The cold, hard metal barrel of a 1911 pistol pressed against his chin.
"Cobblepot, I'm not in a good mood today. You better tell me the truth, or this gun might just go off by accident." Jay hissed menacingly into his ear. "Where did you stash the money you stole from the Roman?"
"I don't know! I don't know! I swear it wasn't me!" Cobblepot cried out hysterically, terrified out of his wits. "God is my witness! Holy Mother! Jesus above! How could it possibly be me!"
"Don't play games with me. You think I can't figure it out?" Jay clicked the safety off, poking the muzzle upwards slightly.
"No, absolutely not. Even if I had the idea, I don't have the muscle." Cobblepot's face was as white as paper, and his whole body was shaking. "Jay, I don't know what you've heard, but I swear on my mother's name, it wasn't me."
"Tsk, I thought I could bluff something out of him."
Jay lowered the gun, set Cobblepot back down on the ground, and reached out to smooth his collar.
"A small misunderstanding, right?"
"Bluff?"
Cobblepot's eyes widened, his expression slowly turning stiff and hostile. "Officer, you can't treat me like this. We were—"
"Misunderstanding. It's all a misunderstanding. It's not the first time we've had one," Jay holstered his weapon and smiled at Cobblepot. "Right?"
"But I already compensated you for that misunderstanding, Officer! You made me donate the car and the money to—"
"What was the deal with the car you donated?" Jay's smile suddenly vanished, and he stared expressionlessly at Cobblepot.
"Ah… huh?"
Cobblepot was stunned, his smile suddenly becoming unnatural. "I… I don't understand what you mean… That car…"
"You didn't think the precinct couldn't find out what it wanted to, did you?" Jay found a booth and sat down, ignoring the little man. "A car from Washington, huh?"
"Uh… well… I don't know…"
"Fine, that's not important. Anyway, regarding this incident involving Mr. Falcone, I should probably warn him that some of his people might be rats."
Cobblepot's eyes bulged, and his face instantly turned red.
"Officer, we are friends. You shouldn't threaten me, and you certainly shouldn't slander me with baseless accusations."
He forced a stiff smile, limping over to the back of the bar. "Have a drink, Jay. Let's forget all the unpleasant things."
"A drink is fine, but there are two things you need to know first." Jay's gaze slowly followed Cobblepot's movements, watching the blue veins bulge on the hand gripping the liquor bottle.
"First, if anything happens to me, a large number of police officers will immediately surround this place, and my statements will be delivered straight to Mr. Falcone's ears."
Cobblepot's hand, which was beginning to wipe a glass, trembled. "And the second?"
"Second, you better take out the gun you've hidden under the bar, or you can test how much it will cost you to try and kill me."
"You are such a… such a…"
Cobblepot stood frozen, gasping for air like a fish out of water. He looked up at Jay, his eyes darting around, then his face suddenly returned to its previous eager and fawning smile.
"My oversight, Jay." He pulled a shotgun from beneath the bar and placed it on the counter. "Alright, tell me, what do you want, my friend?"
He brought two drinks back and placed them on the booth table. He straightened his somewhat wrinkled suit and sat down across from Jay.
"What do you want from me… Also, can we put the past behind us?"
"Tell me first, what do you know this time?"
"No, I actually don't know much. Mr. Falcone summoned us this morning. Judging by the security footage, this group had about seven or eight people, heavy firepower, cruel methods, and everyone was wearing a mask…"
"If this were Miami, it would be 'Payday'," Jay thought.
"Not only did they steal the money, but they also left one deceased guard holding a sign that read… 'Get Out of This City'." Cobblepot's expression was serious.
"Ha!"
Jay let out a light chuckle. "No wonder Falcone is so anxious. It wasn't just about the money, but a power grab?"
"Yes, Mr. Falcone… is a bit anxious." Cobblepot nodded in agreement. "But that's only human nature. None of us want a lifetime of effort to go to waste."
"But he didn't need to aggressively flood the streets with his thugs, restricting even ordinary citizens' movements." Jay picked up his glass but didn't drink, slowly swirling the green liquid inside. "When a man gets old, he starts making irrational decisions."
Cobblepot's eye twitched, and he showed that shy, harmless smile again: "Mr. Falcone is vigorous and full of energy. His actions must be…"
"So you also think he's getting old?"
Jay interrupted him, stood up, leaned over the table, propping himself up with both hands. His massive shadow enveloped Cobblepot, like a hawk looking down at its prey.
"I think someone who understands cooperation and doesn't act impulsively is more suitable for a leadership position. And the GCPD doesn't want this city to descend into chaos. What do you say, Oswald?"
He drained the drink in one gulp, stood up, and turned to stride away.
"I'm going to Falcone Manor myself now. Mr. Falcone will likely demand that someone be assigned to work with the police."
"Opportunities like this don't come often!"
——————
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