Chapter 32: Ch.31 Poor Gordon

Chapter 32: Ch.31 Poor Gordon

"Gotham itself isn't sick. The ones who are sick are its residents. So, if we just change the residents, it'll be fine. Even though killing so many people pains me, cutting off a limb to save a life always comes with pain."

Falcone was about to pour himself some more wine, but Sofia took the bottle, pouring not only for him but also refilling Gordon's glass.

"So many? That's 8 million! 8 million people!"

Gordon slammed his glass on the table in anger, spilling the golden liquid inside.

"Father, it seems Commissioner Gordon isn't feeling well. Should I take him to rest?"

Sofia smiled as she asked Falcone, but the cracking sound of her bones echoed like popping corn, and the room's temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. The cat on the carpet immediately woke from its sleep, alert and searching for the source of its unease.

Falcone calmed her down, smiling and saying there was no need. He personally took out a few tissues to wipe the table.

"It's okay. Gordon's always been like this since the day I met him... After all this is over, when he sees the new Gotham, he'll understand. Also, Sofia, even though you're a girl, you shouldn't threaten people so easily. Our Falcone family values honor and rules, and we reason with people. Your behavior is unbecoming."

"Yes, Father. I'll be more mindful."

Sofia softened, picking up the cat from the carpet and playing with its ears.

Falcone looked at her kindly, nodded, and then turned his face to Gordon.

"Forgive her, Commissioner. My daughter learned some skills in the Far East, and she's still young, so she's full of energy. Sometimes she's a bit rude. I hope you can forgive her."

Gordon felt he couldn't communicate with these two lunatics, but Falcone's words reminded him of something.

"Barbara! Where's my daughter Barbara?"

He sat up straight, staring intently at Falcone.

"Barbara... Barbara..."

He severed all connection with reality, fully engulfed in his own grief. Nothing anyone said would reach him now.

Falcone turned to look at Sofia. This wasn't the Gordon he wanted. Before Gotham could be reborn, they needed to kill Deathstroke and get Gordon back on his feet.

"Sofia, do you think you can defeat her?"

Sofia knew exactly who he was referring to. Several emotions crossed her face—disappointment, anger, resentment—all flickered through, but none were what Falcone wanted to see.

She slumped back on the sofa, gently shaking her head. "Sorry, Father. I'm no match for her."

"How is that possible? Your teacher said you were a once-in-a-century prodigy. After you finished your training, the world was supposed to be yours." Falcone frowned, the air thick with his overpowering presence. He suspected his daughter was just being lazy and didn't want to get involved.

Sofia sighed deeply, not lying at all. "She must've only told you half the story because while I might go anywhere in this world, there are some people best avoided. Deathstroke is one of them."

"Is she really that strong? I've never seen her in Gotham before." Falcone sat back in his seat, now convinced by Sofia.

"She's ridiculously strong. She's very young, maybe even younger than me. If you asked me to deal with Bruce, I could probably capture her with just my legs alone, because Bats don't kill."

Sofia gave a bitter smile, shaking her head. She knew her own limits all too well. "But not with Deathstroke. She's not just a master of unarmed combat; she's a master of all weapons. 'All weapons' means anything used to kill, from swords and spears to assault rifles, grenades, and even tanks. She's mastered them all to perfection."

"Did your teacher say that?" Falcone calmed down, lowering his head to gently caress the petals of the rose.

Sofia nodded, absentmindedly stroking the white cat's head, which was smudged with her lipstick. "Yes. Since we're about the same age, my teacher would use her as an example to teach me. Even after I completed my training, Deathstroke was still one of the few people she told me to avoid."

"Hmm..." Falcone pondered.

"My teacher said if I fought Deathstroke barehanded, I'd have a 60% chance of surviving. If she used blades, it'd drop to 30%. If she added firearms, I'd be dead for sure." Sofia finished and then fell silent.

The room fell quiet again, leaving only Gordon's desperate murmurs.