In Gotham City, on the busiest boulevard in the Theater District, a large crowd gathered outside the Iceberg Lounge, waiting for the nightclub to open.
As dusk deepened into night, the sign lit up. One by one, people passed the bouncers' scrutiny and slipped into the neon-soaked venue.
It was Gotham's best bar—
and also the city's largest hub for underworld deals.
The club's owner was Batman's longtime enemy: The Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot.
Up on the top floor, in a private room closed to the public, a massive iceberg-shaped sculpture of ice dominated the space. A raised platform sat embedded into the "iceberg," like a throne.
There, the short, stout Penguin sat at a dining table, surrounded by bodyguards, eating a lavish seafood meal.
He grabbed an entire fish with his bare hands, brought it to his mouth, tore off a bite, and chewed with the vicious intensity of a wild animal.
Yet once he finished, he still made a show of elegance—lifting a wineglass like a refined gentleman and slowly savoring the drink.
A Penguin Gang lieutenant stumbled into the room. After being searched by the guards, he dropped to his knees at Cobblepot's feet.
"Mr. Cobblepot!"
Penguin set down his swaying wineglass. A bad feeling crept up his spine.
"In Gotham," he'd always said, "business goes wrong seven times out of ten."
But as long as the merchandise still existed—even if the GCPD seized it—he could eventually recover it and still get paid.
"What is it?" he asked.
The lieutenant trembled.
"It's… Joker and Harley Quinn…"
The Penguin's brow tightened hard.
"Didn't that lunatic just steal a dirty bomb to play games with Batman? What's he doing now?"
He'd just heard Joker had swiped a dirty bomb specifically to provoke Batman, and Penguin had planned to use the chaos to quietly smuggle in some rare goods.
Instead, Joker hadn't gone after Batman.
He'd come after him.
"They jumped us out of nowhere and hijacked two trucks of our new shipment. After a short chase with Batman… they drove the trucks straight into the ocean."
The lieutenant kept his head bowed low. Penguin hated incompetent underlings—especially ones who lost his merchandise.
"What?" Penguin snarled. "Where are those animals?!"
Fury detonated in him. He smashed the wineglass, shards scattering across the floor.
Two whole trucks—dumped into the sea.
Even if the vehicles were salvaged, the cargo was finished.
He seized the man by the collar, yanking him up until their faces were inches apart—his sharp nose almost drilling into the lieutenant's skin.
"Harley got tossed aside again. Batman sent her to Arkham. Joker—no one knows where he ran off to."
Everyone knew Joker never cared about Harley. Once again, he'd thrown her to Batman like trash and vanished.
No one could predict what Joker was thinking.
Penguin, meanwhile, only cared about the two lost trucks—
and what he dreaded even more was the bat that always followed after Joker.
Joker steals a dirty bomb and hides it somewhere.
Then steals Penguin's trucks and dumps them in the ocean like it's a joke.
Penguin could already picture it: Batman dropping from the ceiling, slamming him onto his own table, demanding to know where Joker was.
"Dispose of this useless idiot," Penguin snapped, voice razor-sharp, "and send every location of Joker's hideouts to Gordon."
Then his temper surged into a full roar.
"Damn it! I don't want that filthy bat coming after me again just because he can't find Joker!!!"
"Yes, sir!"
The two bodyguards didn't waste a second. They grabbed the kneeling thug—who started begging—and dragged him out of the room.
Penguin exhaled, simmering.
"Honestly… I just want to do business. Why is it so hard?"
Times had changed. He missed the early days.
Back then, Falcone was the kingpin of Gotham's underworld, but at least people followed rules. Everyone "did business."
Now? More and more lunatics and monsters had become the mainstream of Gotham crime.
If you hadn't spent a couple days in Arkham, you practically didn't qualify as a serious criminal anymore.
And the recent alien invasion—plus Atlantis rising from the depths—made one thing painfully clear:
The era was shifting again.
If he couldn't catch the next wave, then rats like them—creatures of the shadows—would be swept into the trash heap for good.
Before he could finish brooding, a well-dressed female secretary approached.
"Mr. Cobblepot."
He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and looked up.
"What now?"
She checked his schedule and smiled politely.
"The team you sponsor is about to start their game."
The game itself meant nothing to Penguin.
What mattered was the guest he'd had the team's representative invite.
"And the invitation," he asked, "did we get a reply?"
The secretary had already confirmed the situation with the team rep. She answered evenly:
"He said Cyborg and his friends have already arrived at the stadium, but…"
"But what?"
Penguin frowned. After losing two trucks, he didn't want to hear more bad news.
The secretary delivered it.
"Only Cyborg came. And he brought two kids with him."
"Only one?" Penguin muttered.
Then, after a beat, his eyes narrowed—calculating.
"That's still enough."
Even if the chance of cooperation was nearly zero, he still intended to try.
Once his men helped him into an appropriate suit, Penguin took up his signature umbrella and left.
"Then let's go," he said softly, almost reverently.
"Let's meet… the future of this world."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 120)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 85)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter85)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter81)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter60)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter66)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 40
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 50
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin