"There seems to be some confusion. My name is Oswald Cobblepot. Many of you, no doubt, will have heard of me. Some of you, clearly, have not. For those poor, ignorant souls, I offer illumination. I am not a man to be trifled with. No. I am powerful. I am vicious. I'm King of Gotham."
—Oswald Cobblepot
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Gotham, Iceberg Restaurant
The Iceberg Restaurant, a luxuriously decorated and magnificent hotel, has been a favorite among Gotham aristocrats and upper-class elites. It serves as a prestigious venue for them to showcase their status. What many don't know is that the owner, Oswald Chesterfield Copper, is a renowned underworld boss in the Gotham underground.
Born into the Copper family, one of the four major families in Gotham, Oswald's talent for reinvention is remarkable. Despite being born deformed, short, and overweight, he leveraged his skills to ascend to the position of Gotham's boss. While everyone feared him, they secretly mocked him, giving him the nickname "Penguin."
The Iceberg Restaurant has become a front for Penguin's illicit activities, including selling stolen goods and money laundering.
"Huh..."
Exhaling a mouthful of cigar smoke, Penguin swiveled in his seat. His voice, naturally sharp, deliberately lowered to embody the demeanor of a gangster—low and authoritative, not the shrill and unattractive tone that belied his appearance.
"Bob Dylan, what brings you to me? Speak quickly; I have another important event to attend."
Even as the deputy warden of Black Gate Prison, Bob Dylan approached the Penguin with caution. He knew too well that despite the comical appearance, the man before him harbored a dark heart. One moment they could share a laugh, the next, Penguin could send them soaring.
"Mr. Oswald, I've encountered some trouble recently and need your assistance. Naturally, I won't ask for your help without offering something in return. Your two men in prison can be released without conditions."
Penguin's small eyes scrutinized Bob Dylan, and he replied, "Do you think I'd expend my efforts on two worthless individuals?"
With a turn of his head, Penguin continued, "However, I've heard that a subordinate of the Black Mask entered yesterday. If you can arrange an 'accident' resulting in his demise, I'd be delighted to assist you."
Bob Dylan furrowed his brow. The Black Mask's henchman was no ordinary adversary. As the underground boss of Gotham City, the Black Mask was more brutal and bloodthirsty than Penguin himself. The Penguin, sensible and hoping for stability amid chaos, desired a Gotham where the gang could survive long-term. The Black Mask, however, was far more unpredictable, even proclaiming a desire to turn Gotham into hell.
But with the thought of his misdeeds potentially exposed, Bob Dylan found no peace in his sleep or meals. After contemplating, he proposed, "Mr. Oswald, if he isn't dead, he'll be left as an imbecile. Is that acceptable to you?"
Grinning, Penguin responded, "That's acceptable. Now, reveal your troubles."
Minutes later, Bob Dylan left the Iceberg Restaurant with satisfaction. He believed that if the Penguin intervened, the nuisance that was Jude Herbert would be eliminated.
The Penguin hummed contentedly, reflecting on the Black Mask's subordinate. To boldly declare himself a Penguin in the Black Mask's presence? It was an act of mercy not to end the man's life.
Leaning his umbrella in the corner, Penguin shed his suit and donned a prepared tuxedo. Topping it off with a hat, he positioned the umbrella on the ground and struck several poses before the mirror.
"Well, not bad."
Consulting his pocket watch, he noted that the party would start in three minutes. The Penguin paced the room unhurriedly, recognizing that important individuals often made fashionable late entrances.
A knock at the door signaled that it was time for him to play host. As the party's host, he needed to present himself meticulously and avoid losing face before Gotham's political and business elite.
The door opened, and a man announced, "Mr. Oswald, Mr. Ivan from Bigfoot is here and wishes to discuss something with you."
Penguin expressed his discomfort, "Don't they know the party is about to begin? Let him wait."
With that, Oswald waddled toward the party hall. Could anyone meet whoever they wanted at any time? Despite cooperating with the Bigfoot Gang, Ivan Strank wasn't qualified for a private audience; the Bigfoot Gang's leader would need to come personally.
The party extended for over three hours. When Penguin returned to his office, he found someone seated—none other than Ivan Strank.
His initially smiling face twisted into unease, "Strank, who gave you permission to sit in my chair?"
Ivan Strank rose, smiling, "Mr. Oswald, please don't be upset. After over three hours, I needed a place to rest, didn't I?"
"It's almost midnight, and I won't keep you from your rest. Shall we get straight to the point?"
Despite his physical inferiority, Penguin's demeanor leaned towards a gentlemanly manner. It was a psychological compensation for his lack of physical stature.
Moreover, Bigfoot possessed something he needed. Oswald suppressed his anger and said, "Proceed, but spare me the trivial details."
"Five of my men are missing. I hope you can help me investigate."
Penguin responded angrily, "You're bothering me with five scoundrels?"
"These aren't just scoundrels; you must understand, I only brought a few dozen people to Gotham. If five are missing today, ten might be missing tomorrow. I need to know who's meddling with me. If you cooperate, it's not just dealing with Bigfoot; it's dealing with you."
Penguin waved his hands dismissively, "I'm not interested in such trivial matters. Currently, I'm running for mayor, and I'll deal with it after the election."
Strank narrowed his eyes and hummed, "Mr. Oswald, this isn't a cooperative attitude. Don't you want the source of the mutation? Don't you want to cure your deformed body?"
Upon hearing those words, Penguin erupted furiously, "Do you want me to throw you in a blender? I want to see tangible results, not vague promises."
"Very well, today I'm here to demonstrate the power of the source of mutation."
"What?"
Roar!
With a violent roar, Ivan Strank's body instantly swelled and metamorphosed. His clothes tore as he transformed into a rhino.
"Did you see it? This is the power of the source of mutation. It can turn people into monsters and reverse monsters back into people. As long as you use it, your deformed body can return to normal."
Penguin, indifferent to Strank's lack of respect, looked at his comrades with excitement. Bigfoot hadn't deceived him; everything was true, and he now had a chance to become a normal person.
"Very well. Starting today, Bigfoot can act under my banner. Whatever you're planning, ensure the source of mutation is brought to me as soon as possible."
"Excellent, sir. Happy cooperation."