Gotham City never truly slept.
Even late at night, when neon lights flickered weakly through the fog and sirens echoed in the distance, the city's underworld remained wide awake—scheming, trading, and sharpening its knives.
Tonight, the heart of that underworld beat within the Iceberg Lounge.
Penguin's Decision
Inside the owner's office on the top floor, the air was heavy with cigar smoke and quiet authority.
A short, stout man sat comfortably behind an ornate desk, dressed in a tailored tuxedo that did little to soften his strange appearance. His face was round and bloated, his skin pale, and his nose long and sharp—curved almost unnaturally, like the beak of a bird.
A penguin's beak.
There was no need for introductions.
Oswald Cobblepot—Penguin—king of Gotham's black market.
Standing before him was Ogilvy, one of his most trusted subordinates. His posture was respectful, his voice steady as he delivered his report.
"The Notice letter has already spread throughout Gotham," Ogilvy said calmly. "Kaito Kid openly declared that he will steal an item during the auction."
Penguin listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable.
When Ogilvy finally finished, the room fell silent.
"Kaito Kid?" Penguin repeated, his tone flat.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a dismissive snort.
"A flashy thief with a white cape and a flair for theatrics." He waved his hand lazily. "Gotham attracts all kinds of idiots these days. Do they really think this city has no rules anymore?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"To dare target my property… does he believe he's Catwoman?"
Ogilvy hesitated before asking, "Boss, should we arrange for someone to eliminate him before the auction?"
Penguin let out a cold chuckle.
"No need. Someone else will do the job for us."
Ogilvy frowned slightly, confused.
"The auction will draw more than half of Gotham's major players," Penguin continued, his voice slow and deliberate. "The GCPD will be everywhere. Batman will be there too, lurking in the shadows with his little bird."
He tapped the desk with one finger.
"Even I have to think twice before acting under those conditions. And this thief? He's barely stepped onto the stage."
Penguin's lips curled into a cruel smile.
"If he insists on making a spectacle, then Gotham itself will crush him."
Ogilvy's concern deepened.
"Boss… what if Kaito Kid knows about the fake diamond?" he asked quietly. "If he exposes it publicly—"
"So what?"
Penguin interrupted without hesitation.
His eyes were calm, almost bored.
"Ogilvy, have you already forgotten why we made that fake diamond in the first place?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"I never intended to profit from the auction itself. It's bait. Influence. Leverage." He shrugged. "Even if the forgery is exposed, what do we lose? There's no proof tying it back to us."
He paused, then added coldly:
"In Gotham, rumors are cheap. Evidence is everything."
Ogilvy nodded, but the unease in his eyes did not fade.
"But the Notice letter…" he said. "He announced his intentions to the entire city. To outsiders, this looks like an open provocation against the Penguin. If we do nothing—"
Penguin's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade.
"Did I say we would do nothing?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"I said I won't act recklessly and attract unnecessary attention from the GCPD and Batman," Penguin said slowly. "That would be stupidity, not caution."
He straightened.
"But make no mistake—I fear no one."
Penguin stood up, walking around the desk.
"On the day of the auction, the hotel will be crawling with police. We won't interfere inside." His eyes glinted. "Outside is a different story."
He turned to Ogilvy.
"Place gunmen around the perimeter. Keep them hidden. If Kaito Kid escapes, eliminate him immediately."
He paused, then added with a cruel calm:
"If he's arrested… destroy the police car escorting him."
Penguin's smile was thin and dangerous.
"This is simple work. I trust I don't need to explain further."
Ogilvy bowed slightly.
"Understood, Boss. I'll handle everything."
He turned and left the office.
The door closed softly behind him.
For just a brief moment, as Ogilvy walked down the hallway, a strange glint passed through his eyes—cold, calculating, and filled with thoughts he would never share.
Penguin never noticed.
---
The GCPD Responds
At the same time, chaos was brewing at Gotham City Police Department headquarters.
Commissioner Jim Gordon stood at the front of a packed briefing room, his expression stern and furious.
In his hand was a familiar white card.
Kaito Kid's Notice letter.
"This," Gordon said sharply, holding it up, "is a public provocation against the Gotham Police Department."
The room buzzed with murmurs.
"A criminal who announces his crime in advance," Gordon continued, his voice rising, "and distributes his Notice letter across the city like a flyer!"
He slammed the paper onto the podium.
"What does he think this is? A performance? He wants citizens to gather and watch him commit a crime in front of our eyes!"
Gordon's eyes burned with anger.
"This is an insult to the GCPD."
The younger officers in the room straightened instantly.
"These past years," Gordon said, "we've faced enemies far more dangerous than some theatrical thief. Monsters. Maniacs. Supervillains."
He paused.
"But never someone who so openly tramples on the dignity of this department."
He scanned the room.
"I won't tolerate it. And I know none of you will either."
The response was immediate—clenched fists, determined eyes, and murmurs of agreement.
Most of these officers were new blood, people who had joined the force inspired by Jim Gordon himself. Unlike the older generation, they still believed in justice.
Gordon nodded approvingly.
"Kaito Kid will not become an exception."
Then his tone shifted—calm, commanding, final.
"From today onward, all officers not currently assigned to active cases will work overtime. Your task is to analyze, decode, and dissect every word of this Notice letter."
He pointed to the calendar.
"The auction is next Saturday. By then, we will be ready."
The room erupted in determination.
The GCPD had declared war.
---
Wayne Manor
Far from Gotham's neon streets, beyond the city's choking smog, stood a massive estate shrouded in quiet elegance.
Wayne Manor.
The five-story villa covered thousands of square meters, surrounded by ancient trees and guarded by silence.
Inside, priceless artifacts lay casually displayed—antiques worth fortunes treated like ordinary furniture. This was not just a home.
It was a fortress.
And something more.
In a vast dining hall capable of hosting dozens, only two people sat at the long table.
One was a young man with dark hair and sharp eyes—Dick Grayson.
The other was an elderly gentleman dressed in a pristine butler's uniform.
Tall, thin, refined, and dignified.
Alfred Pennyworth.
Dick stared at the white card in his hand, his food untouched.
Alfred noticed immediately.
"Master Richard," he said gently, "is today's meal not to your liking?"
Dick blinked, startled.
"Huh? No—no, it's great."
He quickly scooped up a bite, chewing absentmindedly.
Alfred sighed softly.
"I do hope you won't neglect your meals as Master Bruce does," he said. "You're still growing. Your body requires proper nutrition."
Dick stiffened slightly at the mention of Bruce.
"I'm not him," he said quickly, then forced a grin. "I'm just… me."
As if to prove his point, he set the Notice letter aside and began eating with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Alfred chuckled, shaking his head.
"I'm glad you enjoy my cooking," he said warmly. "But please, slow down. Even heroes can choke."
Dick laughed, but his eyes flicked back—just for a moment—to the white card on the table.
Kaito Kid. The auction. Gotham.
Something big was coming.
And everyone could feel it.
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