American comic Gotham, the sheriff of Arkham

In the penthouse in downtown Gotham, this is the home of Roman Falcone, at the very top of Gotham.

Compared to those mafia bosses who keep their homes like fortresses, Falcone has moved past that time. He is a businessman and an upper-class figure in Gotham.

The president of an Italian import company, a famous philanthropist in Gotham City, an entrepreneur, a real estate tycoon, and the owner of a financial group, he has many titles and honors.

These gorgeous titles also allowed him to stand safely in this penthouse apartment and overlook Gotham. No matter day or night, there was always a part of Gotham that belonged to him.

Even for those small-time thugs who robbed people on the streets at night, out of the $100 they stole, $30 would go through layers of transactions and eventually end up in his safe.

Falcone was lying in bed. The only thing that made him dissatisfied was that the damn bat still came out at night. If it weren't for Oswald who had negotiated the "business", it would have been gone.

The funds the company received this month might incur a loss. Money was no longer important to Falcone, but the bat was repeatedly challenging his authority.

This is absolutely unforgivable!

If the Romans lost their dignity, it would be like an old lion losing its strength, and those who were usually calm and respectful would be ready to challenge his power.

In his drowsy sleep, Falcone dreams of his deceased mother. They are happily sitting together for dinner, but his son, Alberto, rubs his fork and knife together.

The harsh sound made Falcone very uncomfortable. He suppressed his anger and scolded Alberto, but Alberto acted as if he didn't hear it and continued to rub his knife and fork.

"Enough!" Falconet roared like an angry lion, waking him up from his dream.

Falcone raised his head and looked at the dim bedroom, only to realize that he was having a nightmare. He tried to raise his hands to sit up, but found that his hands were tied to the bed.

The sound of knife and fork rubbing against each other, accompanied by the sound of smacking lips, sounded beside me. This was not a dream!

After all, Falcone is the godfather of the Gotham Mafia. Years of hardships have tempered his temperament and courage. He calmed down and turned to look at the man next to him.

A guy in a purple striped suit was sitting at the table, holding a roast goose and gnawing on it rudely, tearing into the fat and tender goose meat in big mouthfuls. The roast goose was heated and roasted.

The ferocious way the food was eaten and the aroma wafting over made Falcone swallow his saliva.

He is no longer at the age where he can do whatever he wants. For the sake of his health, his personal nutritionist no longer recommends that he eat this high-fat, high-calorie, unhealthy roast goose.

"you're awake?"

The clown, who was gnawing on the roast goose, threw down the goose with holes in it and wiped his greasy hands on the tablecloth.

"Ding ding ding, do you still recognize me? Mr. Falcone?" The clown stood up with a smile and turned on the light in the bedroom.

It was only then that Falcone realized that his bedroom was a mess and there was a large refrigerator at the door, which was from the kitchen and had been moved here somehow.

However, when Falcone saw the clown's face, his expression suddenly became gloomy. He hated this kind of clown.

"Oh, it seems you don't know who I am. That's right, I'm just an unknown little person." The clown lowered his head and walked over like a child who had made a mistake.

Suddenly, the Joker looked up and laughed, then he picked up the fork in his hand and stabbed it directly into Falcone's thigh.

"Ah...ha!" Falconet screamed in pain, but he swallowed it back with gritted teeth and turned it into a sneer.

The Joker tilted his head to look out the window, with a hand to his ear, as if expecting Falcone to scream.

After failing to get what he wanted, the clown sighed, took out a stethoscope from his arms, hung it around his neck, and shook his head:

"This is the first time I've seen a patient like this, but don't worry, Uncle Jack will cure you!"

The Joker smiled and took out a medieval armor-piercing hammer from under the bed. It was a decoration hanging on the wall of the living room, but now in the Joker's hands, it was a deadly weapon.

Especially the hammer, which was stained with dark red blood.

"No! What do you want to do?!" Falcone also became anxious and asked quickly: "Money, or something else, tell me!"

"Shh!" The clown put his finger on his mouth and laughed while carrying the armor-piercing hammer: "I just hope that no one will bother me, you know? I always wanted to be a star on the stage."

As he spoke, the clown raised his head with a look of longing, looking at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, as if he saw himself under the spotlight.

"I can help you, whether it's making a movie, going to Hollywood, or Broadway, I can help you become a star," Falcone said, taking advantage of the opportunity.

"No!" The clown turned his head, the longing look on his face had disappeared, replaced by extreme indifference.

"Someone took my head and exchanged it with you for a lot of money, right? But I'm still alive." The clown licked his scarlet lips, grasped the hammer handle with both hands, swung it up violently, and hit Falcone's leg.

With a crack, the heavy armor-piercing hammer smashed Falconet's right leg into a pool of mud, with broken bones sticking out.

"what!!!!"

Falcone raised his head and screamed. The severe pain almost made him faint, and sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.

"This is just a little warning. Also, don't be so serious. Smile." The Joker threw down the hammer and pulled the corners of his mouth, revealing a big smile.

Falcone's eyes widened, wishing he could grind the Joker to dust. His clenched teeth broke into pieces, and blood flowed out of his mouth.

"I'll take care of that guy, what else do you want?"

Falcone forced himself to remain calm and asked. In his heart, he wanted to cut Naomi into pieces. Wasn't he said to be dead?

"Let me think about it..." The Joker thought and walked to the side, picked up Falcone's collection of fine wine and smashed it against the wall.

"It seems like that's all, but I want to blow up your company, otherwise it will be boring. Do you have any objection?" The clown turned around and asked.

"...No." Falconet said through gritted teeth.

"You are so generous! I like you a little bit." The Joker ran over, hugged Falcone's head, and kissed him deeply on the forehead, leaving a red lip mark.

"It's settled then. I'll visit your company. Oh, by the way! I've put a little gift in the refrigerator, remember to check it. Bye!"

The clown bowed and performed a standard gentleman's salute, without looking crazy at all.

But the next second, the clown returned to his nature, ran to the window laughing, broke the glass and jumped out.

This is a skyscraper with over a hundred floors, and it is also one of the few places in Gotham where you can see the moon. The Joker jumped.

Falling rapidly in the air, he opened his arms, enjoying the thrill, then reached out and took out a signal device from his arms and pressed it, but there was no response from below.

The clown picked up the signal device with some confusion, turned around, and crossed his legs as if he was sitting on a chair, ignoring his rapidly falling body.

"Strange? Why is it useless?"

The clown slapped the signal device hard, and the indicator light on it was connected to the signal during the fall.

He pressed his finger, and in a building in the center of Gotham City, a truck loaded with explosives began to beep rapidly, followed by a huge explosion.

The entire building was affected by the explosion. The glass exploded as if it was swept by a tornado, and flames shot up into the sky.

"Ouch!" The clown looked at the explosion in the distance and raised his hands happily. At this time, he was almost falling to the ground.

With a bang, the clown pulled a rope on his body, and the suit on his back was lifted up. A green parachute with a clown's smiling face painted on it unfolded, pulling the clown up and floating away.

------

"Father!" A strong woman with a pistol and her men broke down the door and looked at Falcone lying on the bed with a look of horror on her face.

"Sophia...help me up." Falcone raised his head forcefully and shouted through gritted teeth.

This is his daughter Sofia. Unlike his son Alberto who is attending Oxford University, this daughter is more like Falcone's sister, a typical gangster woman.

But now Sofia was kneeling on the ground crying and untying the rope on Falcone's hands. Some of her men had come over to help Falcone stop the bleeding and look for a medical kit.

Several other people held pistols and stood in front of the broken window glass, looking at the cold and shimmering night sky outside. In the distance, Falcone's business company was engulfed in flames due to the explosion.

"Open the refrigerator!" Falcone was helped to sit up. He still remembered what the Joker said before he left... a gift.

Only then did Sophia notice the refrigerator that looked out of place in the bedroom, and she quickly ran over and opened the door.

White cold air came out of the refrigerator, and inside was a bodyguard who had died tragically. His mouth was ripped open, his body was covered with icicles, and he was holding an open box in his hands.

When Sophia saw the box, she was stunned and stared at the box, as if she had seen something unacceptable.

"What's inside?" Falconet asked quickly.

"No..." Sophia was about to shake her head.

"Tell me!" Falcone's roar was like a lion's roar. Sofia, who had never resisted her father, couldn't help but move away.

Falcone looked over. It was a dark wooden box, an urn, and the photo on it…

"mom!"

Falcone, the mafia godfather who called the shots in Gotham and bribed half of the city, completely collapsed at this moment.

He ignored the attempts to stop him from doing so and burst out with tremendous strength. He rolled down from the bed like crawling and stared at the urn in the refrigerator.

It was his mother's urn, and on top of it was a frozen coffee cup with a message from the Joker on it:

"Dear Roman, your mother is not tasty at all, just like your bodyguard, who ate half a box, great!"

Puff! Falcone spat out a mouthful of blood and fell to the ground.