Rome will always Be Rome

Gordon is at a loss for words, he doesn't even know if he should speak.

 Anyone even remotely in the know can see that she's not normal at all, that Batwoman and Bliss are like completely separate, like two completely different people.

 Even every time the jester is caught, she always laughs and yells at Batgirl:

 "Dear Bat, you and I are the same!"

 "I know you! We're of the same kind! '

 'You made me! Ha ha ha!"

 Batgirl would simply watch silently as the badly beaten jester was loaded into the Arkham Asylum transport van, without saying a word, then toss her cloak and disappear into the darkness.

 No one knew what she was thinking or what she would do next.

 How could Gordon not see what even a psychopath could see? The only reason there are so many crazies and weirdos in Gotham today is because there is one of their kind who attracts them.

 But on the other hand, he grew up watching Bliss, and he trusted her to do the right thing, and Gotham really needed a force in the dark to stop the evil.

 But today, Falcone tells him that he knows it all...

 The path Gordon has chosen, in fact, is one he has seen coming, and he has even arranged for him to have help.

 The Cobblepot lady, the Penguin woman of the day, was supposed to take care of things in the shadows for him, and she was supposed to play Batgirl of the day.

 "Look, Gordon, you're a man of integrity, and you couldn't even lie to me again. We all know Bliss, she's crazy, she's split in two." Mr. Falcone said to Mr. Gordon dryly, not in a tone of joy at the answer, but in a tone of gasps.

 Gordon had chosen Batgirl to deter Gotham's dark forces.

 Compared to the Penguin's power, she has little to offer other than a Bat-phobia.

 Gordon now knew that if the Penguin Woman wanted to do it, as the descendant of ten families, she would be a thousand times more fearful than the bat!

 Any Gotham old enough to hear the names of Falcone and the House of Ten would shudder, a black terror, like real night.

 The Penguin woman knew all about it, Falcone had confessed, she was just waiting in the shadows, gathering strength, and if Gordon ever gave up working with the Bat, she would come to the door and push things in the direction the Romans wanted to see.

 She had made friends with officials, cultivated contacts, and stocked up on weapons, all in anticipation of this day.

 A new, better Gotham, a Gotham run by both black and white.

 If everything really goes according to Falcone's plan, in white for himself and black for the penguins, then there will be no other colored pieces on the board of Gotham, and everything will develop according to Gordon's idea, and maybe it will really become the happy city he has in mind.

 Commissioner Gordon is not a child. He knows that where there is light, there is darkness. Since darkness must exist, it is better to let it obey his discipline.

 But then Gotham would still be a black and white city, just changed from the Caesar dictatorship of the Romans to the Senatorial republic, no different.

 Rome would still be Rome.

 "No, that's still your Gotham, not my Gotham, a city run by the mob, destined to fall!" Gordon shakes his head and pushes the associations out of his mind. He has his own principles and doesn't want any association with the mob.

 "Yes, I know how you feel. I've watched you all these years. You've worked very hard, even as Gotham has gotten worse." Falcone reassures, filling his glass with more wine: "On your watch, daytime policing has markedly improved, and the integrity of government has gone up. The only problem was at night, Cobblepot, she let me down."

 Gordon frowned, and it never came to a good end for those who let Falcone down, as history has long since proved.

 But instead of continuing the conversation, Falcone simply put down his glass, clapped his hands gently and said out the door: "Sofia, you can come in."

 The familiar woman outside the door entered the room. She removed her felt hat and her long black hair fell down like a waterfall. She looked at Commissioner Gordon on the couch and walked quietly to Falcone's side.

 "Let me introduce you. This is Sofia Falcone, my little daughter. You haven't seen her before because she's been studying in Europe." Smiling and patting her hand, Falcone said with relief: 'As much as it pains others to say this, Sophia is the most talented of my children.'

 Gordon looked at the woman's face, which he hadn't noticed before because she was constantly saying things like Boss, our boss, and Gordon thought she was just a high-class Gotham enforcer, one of hundreds of thousands in Gotham.

 But now, when he looked at her in the light, there was only one word to describe her: femme fatale.

 She has the same unsmiling look, and compared with her father, she does not have the air of domination, but more neurotic madness.

 Gordon looked back and said sarcastically to Falcone, "No introduction needed. We've known each other for a long time. She's very warm....."

 "Oh? Do you? ' Falcone raised his eyebrows. With a smile, he asked his daughter, "Are you getting along with Chief Gordon?"

 "Of course, Father. Chief Gordon is a very nice man." Sophia answered him in a sweet, greasy voice, like a daddy's girl, but with a deep look at Gordon.

 "She's going to help you build a new Gotham after everything, not Cobblepot.... From this day forward, the Falcone family has your back."

 'Wait, after all what? Gordon heard something wrong in his words, and he couldn't understand what Falcone meant: "What new Gotham?"

 Falcone closed his eyes and cocked his head with a frown, as if recalling something, but he quickly smiled apologetically:

 "Oh, didn't I say that? Well, when you get old, you forget things... So my dear Gordon, do you know where we are? '

 'Where are we? The sewers of Gotham? Or an abandoned mental hospital?" Gordon stared at the fireplace, then at the ceiling.

 Falcone raised his right hand, making a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger, and shook his head regretfully at Gordon.

 "Unfortunately, you don't know Gotham very well, and the darkness you see is like a thin layer of weeds floating on the sea at night... But that's all right. You're not supposed to know that. It's a matter for our families to deal with."

 'Where are we? !"

 Gordon watched him closely, he had had enough of the riddles, of feeling set up and pushed around.

 Falcone leaned back in his chair, as if enjoying the warmth of the sun on a winter afternoon, and smiled contentedly by the fire.

 'Indian Hill, Gordon, we're in Indian Hill,' he said.