Gordon was speechless; he didn't even know if he should speak.
Even someone barely aware of the situation could see that she wasn't normal at all. The identities of Bat Heroine and Briss seemed completely separated, like two entirely different people.
Every time the Jester was caught, she would always smile and shout to Batwoman:
"Dear Bat, you and I are the same!"
"I understand you! We are the same kind of people!"
"You made me what I am! Hahaha!"
Every time this happened, Batwoman would just stand silently, watching as the heavily injured Jester was loaded into the transport truck heading to Arkham Asylum. She said nothing, then flicked her cape and disappeared into the darkness.
No one knew what she was thinking, nor what she would do next.
Even if a mentally ill person could see it, how could Gordon not? Today, Gotham was filled with lunatics and freaks because there was a 'kindred spirit' here attracting them.
But on the other hand, Briss was someone he had watched grow up. He believed she would do the right thing, and Gotham indeed needed a force in the darkness to stem the spread of crime.
But today, Falcone told him that he knew everything...
The path Gordon chose was something Falcone had foreseen, and he had even arranged a helper for him.
Miss from the Kobert family, today's Penguin Lady, was supposed to handle these things from the shadows. The role Batwoman played today was originally meant for her.
"Look, Gordon, you are a man of integrity; you can't even lie to me again. We all know that Briss has gone mad, her personality split into halves," Falcone said to Gordon indifferently, without any joy at having obtained an answer, only endless sighs.
In the beginning, Gordon chose Batwoman to deter the dark forces of Gotham.
Compared to Penguin's energy, the help she could provide was minimal, besides that kind of bat fear, nothing else.
Gordon now knew that if Penguin Lady wanted to, she, being a descendant of the Ten Clans, could instill a fear in people that was a thousand times greater than that of the Bat!
Anyone in Gotham who was old enough would shiver at the mention of Falcone and the Ten Clans, the kind of dark terror, like a real night.
The Penguin Lady had long known everything, as Falcone had instructed. She was merely waiting in the shadows, accumulating strength. Once Gordon gives up the cooperation with Bat, she would take the initiative to step forward, pushing things in the direction the Romans wanted to see.
She ingratiated herself with officials, wove connections, stockpiled weapons, all for this day.
To reshape a brand new, beautiful Gotham, jointly governed by both the black and white sides.
If everything indeed went according to Falcone's arrangement, with him using white and Penguin using black, then the chessboard of Gotham City would have no other colored pieces. Everything could develop according to Gordon's ideas, and perhaps really become the happy city of his dreams.
Director Gordon wasn't a child; he knew that where there is light, there is darkness. Since darkness is inevitable, it might as well be subject to his governance.
But even so, Gotham would just be a chaotic city of black and white, merely transforming from the dictatorship of Caesar from the Romans to the senatorial republic, with no difference.
Rome would still be Rome.
"No, that would still be your Gotham, not the one I want. A city involving gangsters in governance is destined to fall!" Gordon shook his head, dismissing all sorts of associations from his mind. He had his principles and didn't want any association with the mob.
"Yes, I understand your thoughts; all these years, I've been watching you. You've worked very hard, even though Gotham has only gotten worse," Falcone consoled, pouring some more wine into his glass. "Under your supervision, daytime security has significantly improved, and government corruption has decreased. The only issue arises at night; Kobert disappointed me."
Gordon frowned. People who disappointed Falcone never met a good end; history had already proven that.
But Falcone did not continue the topic. He merely put down his glass, gently clapped his hands, and said to the door, "Sofia, you can come in."
The familiar woman outside the door entered the room, she took off the felt hat from her head, and her long black hair cascaded down like a waterfall. She glanced at Director Gordon sitting on the sofa and quietly walked to Falcone's side.
"Let me introduce her, she's Sofia Falcone, my youngest daughter. You haven't met her before, as she has been studying in Europe," Falcone said with a satisfied smile, patting her hand. "Saying this might make others uncomfortable, but Sofia is indeed the most talented of my children."
Gordon looked at the woman's face; he hadn't paid much attention before because the woman was always talking about 'the boss', 'our boss', and Gordon thought she was just a senior thug, of which there were tens of thousands in Gotham.
Now, under the light, a single word could describe her—a femme fatale.
She still bore that same smile that didn't reach her eyes. Compared to her father, she lacked the grandeur of ruling the world but had an added layer of neurotic madness.
Gordon returned his gaze and mockingly said to Falcone, "No need for introductions; we already knew each other well. She is very passionate...."
"Oh? Is that so?" Falcone raised an eyebrow, smiling as he inquired of his daughter, "Did you get along well with Director Gordon?"
"Of course, Father, Director Gordon is a very good person," Sofia responded in a sickly sweet voice, like a daddy's girl, but her eyes were filled with a profound meaning as she looked at Gordon.
"She will assist you in creating a new Gotham after everything, it will no longer be Kobert.... From now on, the Falcone Clan will be your support."
"Wait, after everything?" Gordon heard something off in his words, unable to comprehend Falcone's meaning, "What new Gotham?"
Falcone closed his eyes, furrowed his brow, tilted his head as if recalling something, but quickly smiled apologetically:
"Oh, did I not mention it? Alas, as you age, you tend to forget things... So, my dear Gordon, do you know where we are right now?"
"Where? Gotham's sewers? Or an abandoned asylum?" Gordon eyed the fireplace, then looked at the ceiling.
Falcone raised his right hand, making a small gap between his thumb and forefinger, regretfully shaking his head at Gordon.
"Sadly, you were this close, you really don't understand Gotham. The darkness you see is like a thin layer of seaweed floating on the ocean at night..... But it doesn't matter, you weren't meant to understand these things, these are matters for our families to handle."
"Where are we?!"
Gordon focused on him intently, tired of these riddles, tired of being arranged and manipulated.
Falcone leaned back in his chair, as if basking in the warmth of a winter afternoon sun, smiling contentedly by the fire.
"Indian Mountain, Gordon, we are at Indian Mountain."