"Oswald?" Axel shoved the barrel of his Desert Eagle into the man's mouth, suspicion sharp in his voice.
"Don't speak yet. I need confirmation."
He waved to Liv, who was quietly backing away.
"Liv, this Buddy really isn't Sabatino?"
"Uh…" Liv hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "He… he's definitely not Sabatino."
"Damn it!" Axel cursed, wiping the gun's saliva onto Oswald's clothes before giving him a sharp look.
Oswald, seizing the chance to speak, hurried to justify himself. "Mr. Axel, whoever you work for, whatever money you've received, I'll double it! I'm not asking you to abandon your mission. Go ahead, kill Sabatino, but—let a good person earn a little extra! That bastard humiliated me in front of all my men. Ask them—everything I'm saying is true!"
A henchman stepped forward, prompted by Oswald's frantic gesture.
The man shouted at Oswald, "Boss Sabatino, don't be cowardly! Pretending to be trash like Penguin gets you nowhere!"
"What the hell?!" Oswald's face went green, but Axel's trigger finger didn't waver. Bang! The henchman's head snapped back, and Axel used the gun's stock to smack Oswald, laughing.
"What a stupid act—loyalty even for false accusations," Axel muttered. He studied Oswald. "Don't worry, Buddy, you're no longer my target. Sabatino is Italian—he shouldn't be as short as you."
Oswald's veins bulged at the word 'short,' but he stammered, "Y-yes… Sabatino is a big shot. I'm just a bouncer. I… can't compare."
"Don't sell yourself short, Buddy," Axel said. "Before Gotham, I hadn't even heard of him. You're the famous Penguin—you're far more known."
The veins on Oswald's neck throbbed, but Axel's gun silenced any protests. "Absolutely right," Oswald spat, swallowing a mouthful of blood. "I've been called Penguin since childhood. I… I miss that name, Mr. Axel!"
"Haha, only fools would believe that," Axel said. "Probably dying of rage right now, huh? Stop pretending. If we swapped places, would you let me live? Should I let you go?"
Suddenly, a gunshot rang from the crowd. Blood sprayed across Axel's shoulder.
"Damn it!" Axel cursed, shoving Oswald forward as a human shield. Oswald raised his bulletproof umbrella, face full of fear.
Axel muttered, "Using you as a shield and still getting shot. Completely useless. If I don't kill you, who do I kill?"
With the umbrella barely protecting him, Oswald crouched as sparks flew from the bullets. His eyes flashed with fierce light. "At a time like this, why hold onto me? Let me fight Sabatino's men! We help each other—mutual benefit, Buddy!"
Axel tapped Oswald's butt with his knee. "Even now, confirming I ignore death? True gold fears no fire. Your idea's solid. Later, we'll talk. Also, why the hell isn't your umbrella bigger?"
He flung Oswald away. Without the cover, Axel was hit by multiple bullets, barely diving behind a gambling table. He grabbed a string of grenades, pulling pins and tossing them toward Sabatino's subordinates. Explosions rocked the room.
Amid the chaos, Axel glimpsed a slender figure floating above, watching him. He waved, then closed his eyes, catching a breath.
When he opened them, he found himself in a lavish bedroom. A massive bed with luxurious linens dominated the room. For a moment, he considered resting, but time was not right. He tested the soft bedding, then stepped over it toward the door, only to comment on the carpet.
"Feels like stepping on excrement," he muttered, opening the door to a long corridor adorned with rich decorations.
"Look at this decor—this is a wealthy household," Axel noted.
"The facts do not require additional reminders, Sir," a calm voice responded.
Axel turned. An older man, gun in one hand, steak in the other, walked toward him.
"Introduce yourself, and explain your purpose," the man demanded.
"Even if I tell you my name, you won't know if it's true. As for why I'm here… honestly, I don't even know. Do you believe me?" Axel shrugged, tossing his jacket aside. He raised his hands, revealing the pistol tucked in his back.
"My actions prove my intent more than words. I'm not even on guard against you, so can I at least taste that steak?"
"Interesting," the man said. He placed the tray on a shelf, then threw Axel's gun and backpack across the room, glancing at the money inside. Checking Axel carefully, he commented, "Your wounds are real, your body unharmed, skin spotless. First time I've seen such a case. By the way, I'm Alfred, and this is Wayne Manor. Now, your identity and purpose?"
"Oh my… I'm actually in Wayne Manor?" Axel turned, startled.
"Yes," Alfred nodded. "You don't know how you got here, infiltrated the central bedroom. Bruce just returned to Gotham. To deal with an incident like you and protect him, I brought my weapon. If all you wanted was a steak, the Waynes wouldn't be stingy."
Alfred retreated to the shelf, handing Axel the steak while still aiming his gun and dialing the Gotham Police Department.
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