Party and Umbrella (3)

"Now then, Mr. Cobblepot, are you willing to cooperate with my treatment?"

In a ward at Arkham Asylum, Schiller pulled over a chair and sat beside Cobblepot’s bed. Cobblepot was still staring at the ceiling, but he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"All right. First question: was killing Old Edward your first murder?"

In an instant, Cobblepot’s splinted arm went rigid. His hand trembled, then clenched into a fist. He turned to Schiller, unable to remain silent any longer. "How did you know?"

"You answer my question first."

Cobblepot’s Adam’s apple bobbed as though he wanted to give an answer, but in the end, he said nothing and merely nodded.

"Old Godfather ordered you to do it, didn’t he?"

Cobblepot did not answer. He only said, "I swear before God that I will never reveal any…"

"All right, then you don’t need to say it. I’ll say it for you."

"Old Godfather needed an excuse to move against Young Edward, so he had you kill Old Edward and frame his nephew."

"By committing murder at the godfather’s son’s coming-of-age ceremony, no one could object afterward, no matter how the godfather dealt with the Edward family."

"No one would have imagined that a scrawny umbrella boy bullied by coworkers and mocked by customers was actually the Assassin Old Godfather had entrusted with such an important task."

"If that really was your first murder, then I can only say you had quite a talent for it. You cleaned up the washroom very thoroughly, and your escape route was excellently planned. You didn’t run into a single guest…"

Cobblepot turned and stared at Schiller. He seemed stunned by Schiller’s assessment. No matter what, a normal person should not have viewed the matter from that angle.

"All right, that’s all in the past." Schiller turned a page in the medical record. "Explain what happened recently."

"I suggest you come clean. I’m not the police. The police might not be able to do much to you, since you’re a minor and a mental patient."

"But I’m different. At present, I’m probably the only person in all of Gotham willing to treat this kind of mental illness and confident of curing it. If you refuse to say anything, I won’t save you a bed."

Cobblepot’s mouth twisted downward. He looked exceptionally vicious, with a maturity no one his age should have possessed.

Then he spoke, his voice hoarse and low. "I really was one of the godfather’s men. I don’t know why he chose me at first sight, but I worked for him, and I killed Old Edward for him."

"You should have guessed what I want to know…" Schiller said without looking up.

"He sent me to Living Hell to watch everyone there. He trusted no one there. Every corner of Gotham should have been ruled by Falcone…"

"So I went to the biggest gang there, the Muni Gang, and became Fish Muni’s subordinate…"

"She didn’t care about me. She even hated me. But she was still relatively sane then. I simply wasn’t valued, but that didn’t matter. I was used to it…"

Cobblepot’s tone was somewhat numb. It was clear that some words he wanted to say would not come out smoothly. The sedatives had not fully worn off, so his account was disjointed.

"Later, I went to work under Kevin. Fish considered that a betrayal, but I had no choice. Kevin gave me what I wanted…"

Cobblepot’s lips trembled as though he were about to fall into an excited state again. "I kept climbing there. From a lowly worker who only knew technical work, I became the person in charge of supplies for a restaurant…"

His tone became wistful, as if he were sketching a dreamlike picture. Cobblepot continued, "That restaurant was exactly the kind I dreamed of—big and luxurious. Gang bosses came and went, and they were all very polite to the restaurant owner…"

"I knew what I wanted. Yes… exactly that…"

"Calm down. Continue." Schiller’s voice shattered Cobblepot’s fantasy and stopped him from growing more agitated.

Cobblepot swallowed, letting out a dry breath before saying, "There, I was appreciated and transferred to manage the water supply system…"

"My coworkers were all idiots, but that was fine. It suited me perfectly. Sure enough, I rose step by step, until I even became a minor boss…"

"It felt so wonderful…" The veins in Cobblepot’s neck stood out as his whole body began trembling again. "It was wonderful… I started ordering people around, directing the work, holding all the cards…"

Soon, he stopped abruptly as if seized by nerves, returning to his stiff state. Then he said viciously, "So… I wanted more power! A bigger territory! No one could stop me!"

"Kevin… oh… right, they called him Black Hand Kevin. A resounding name. He was the first person to stand in my way…" Cobblepot’s tone sank again.

"After I took control of the entire North District water system, he believed I would threaten his position."

"And he was right. That idiot understood nothing. Following him only meant going hungry, but following me was different. Many people in the gang saw that clearly and began supporting me. That idiot’s position was shaken…"

"…This couldn’t go on. I knew it, I knew…" Cobblepot said almost word by word. "I had to kill him and take his position…"

"I went back to Fish. I fell to my knees at her feet and wept as I told her Kevin had forced me into it. If she would help me kill Kevin and secure the position for me, I could use my knowledge and abilities to help her drive all those outsiders away…"

"To earn her trust, I began providing her with all kinds of plans. Some worked, some didn’t, but in the end, Fish chose to trust me…"

Cobblepot swallowed. His voice trembled as he said, "On a street beside Living Hell, Fish killed Kevin, and I successfully took his place…"

"But afterward, Fish became more and more insane. She burst into my room while I slept and beat me with a gunstock and wooden clubs…"

Cobblepot’s voice took on a faint sob. Trembling, he said, "I knew I had to endure it. My position was still unstable. I couldn’t resist her… so I didn’t say a word. She tortured me like a madwoman, saying I had betrayed her, saying everyone had betrayed her…"

"I don’t know how long it went on." Cobblepot trembled all over as he continued, "She became crazier and crazier. Several times, I even thought she wanted to kill me. I knew it couldn’t continue like this. Otherwise, the insane Fish would definitely kill me…"

"So you killed her?" Schiller asked.

"No… no." Cobblepot shook his head tremulously. He gritted his teeth until they clicked against one another. He seemed to have fallen back into his memories. "How could I kill someone? I would have been caught and thrown in prison. I absolutely couldn’t be sent to prison. I had only just gained my position…"

"And then, someone came looking for me." Cobblepot paused, then slowly uttered the name. "Sal Maroney."

"Maroney told me he had been eyeing Living Hell for a long time. He had a grudge against Falcone and had already offended Old Godfather. He couldn’t let Falcone’s plan to transform Gotham succeed, or the Maroney family would cease to exist…"

"He asked me to work with him. I refused, so he kidnapped my mother, just a few days ago…"

"So I proposed that we join forces to kill Fish, then frame Evans and damage the godfather’s heir’s reputation."

"For me, it killed two birds with one stone. It would free me from Fish’s torment and let me save my mother…"

"He agreed to the plan. Then one day, I lured Fish out, and Maroney shot her dead…"

After saying that, Cobblepot was still trembling all over, as if trapped in certain memories. Schiller wrote and drew in his notebook, remaining silent for a long while. At last, Cobblepot could not hold back any longer and looked at Schiller.

Schiller only stared intently at his medical record, offering no judgment on the story. Cobblepot’s eyes reddened as he said, "Doctor, I’m willing to testify against Maroney. He killed Fish. I can testify in court. Please, you have to cure me, I…"

"Stop your nonsense." Without looking up from the medical record, Schiller said, "Your fabricated story was quite exciting, but you made one very serious mistake…"

Cobblepot looked at him. Tears ran from his eyes, and his pale face made him look pitiful. Schiller set down the medical record expressionlessly, looked him in the eye, and said, "Pretending to cry won’t help. Everyone who knows me knows I’m not a quack, but I’m very unethical."

"Your greatest mistake was failing to investigate the credentials of the Doctor you would encounter before making this plan…"

"Doctor, I know I don’t have any evidence, but I’m the only witness…"

"All right. If you insist, let’s start with the most recent crime scene."

"Professor Victor and I went to the crime scene where your mother was kidnapped. According to you, Maroney sent people to abduct her."

"It was indeed a very typical kidnapping scene. Someone had broken into your home, drugged your mother with sleeping pills, and taken her away while she was unconscious."

"On the surface, that was what it looked like. But, Mr. Cobblepot…" Schiller looked into Cobblepot’s eyes. "You clearly have never carried out a real kidnapping. The setup of this scene was riddled with flaws."

Cobblepot said nothing. He only stared at Schiller. Schiller continued, "First, almost nobody who commits kidnappings in Gotham chooses to sneak in. They usually smash down the front door, rush inside, spray every living thing with bullets, then carry away the bodies, wipe away the blood, and tell you they kidnapped your family member. In reality, your relative’s body has already been dumped into the ocean."

"Of course, I’m assuming Maroney is civilized. But I believe he would still have had no need to sneak in, much less use sleeping pills. No matter how strong your mother was, she could not have resisted four or five gang enforcers. They only needed to rush in, knock her unconscious, and drag her away. The sleeping pills were entirely superfluous."

"You were trying to recreate a perfect chain of evidence for a kidnapping, but you added far too many unnecessary steps."

"For instance, that struggle scene you arranged was completely needless. Who did you think your mother was? A retired female agent? Faced with gang intruders, she picked up a chair and fought them?"

"You did too much." Schiller concluded, "You tried to recreate a perfect method of committing the crime, create a realistic scene, and even designed an intruder’s route, deliberately using the table and sofa to leave traces of their movements…"

"I can only say you’ve watched too many detective dramas. Most real cases don’t happen like that, and most killers aren’t that professional. Violent break-ins, crime scenes full of loopholes—that’s what most gang kidnappings look like."

"Because you were naturally weak, most of your murder methods relied on cunning. But for those strong gang members, there was absolutely no need to do so much."

"They weren’t like you, struggling even to pick a lock. There was no door in this world that Submachine Guns and bombs couldn’t break through. No one would spend two hours studying an infiltration route for a job that could be done in five minutes."

"You imposed your own criminal mindset on those gang enforcers. It was like making a burly Texas cowboy wear a lace-trimmed dress."

"As for the scene you arranged…" Schiller picked up the medical record again and said mercilessly, "I can only give it a failing grade."

"Without the godfather’s pressure, the work you completed independently was a complete mess. It was far inferior to the method you used to murder Old Edward. I’m starting to wonder whether you hired someone to write it for you…"

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DC will adopt a structure similar to the comics, focusing mainly on small-scale, low-power incidents. The conflicts will mostly be won through brains, while major events will come later, when the power levels are higher.