哥谭的雨夜.哥谭的细雨总是无穷无尽的,带着一种令人毛骨悚然的寒冷,可以腐蚀一个人的灵魂.雨滴在路灯的照耀下,像一张朦胧的灰色网.当它们到达地面时,每一滴水都会溅成小水涟漪.
引擎的声音从黑暗的小巷尽头回荡.伴随着非常小的飞溅和轮胎在不平坦的路面上滚动的微弱噪音,车辆越来越近.当耀眼的大灯出现在警察局的后门时,戈登知道自己有麻烦了.
一辆加长的豪华轿车停在戈登面前.他注意到步枪枪管在车窗上的反射.一个人透过后视镜向他点头.没有人说话.整个过程就像哥谭的夜晚一样安静.
戈登深吸一口气,伸手去拿腰间的枪.虽然这把枪刚刚配备了新零件,但它并没有给他带来安全感.在这个城市里,警察不能依靠他们的枪支来执法,甚至不能保护自己.
一个穿着黑色西装的男人走了出来,为戈登打开了车门.Gordon看了一眼手表.现在是晚上 9 点 12 分,他将再次错过与芭芭拉的晚餐.
最后,戈登上了车.当车辆启动时,他看向窗外.商店的霓虹灯在他的视野中闪烁,留下红色和蓝色光芒的痕迹.雨滴拍打着车窗,将这些灯光模糊成一个模糊的光晕.
戈登问:"我会见谁?
"你以后会知道的,"坐在副驾驶座上的人回答.
当汽车沿着崎岖不平的道路行驶时,它会轻微摇晃.大灯闪烁在不同的建筑物上.很快,汽车就变成了一条戈登从未去过的小巷.他知道它应该在东区,也是东区最危险的边境地区.
他下了车.黑衣人把他带到一座豪宅的入口处,那里站着两个人,手里拿着枪.其中一人走近.戈登双手交叉在额前.这个人从腰间拿走了枪.在搜查确认他没有武器后,戈登跟着向导进去了.
豪宅装饰豪华,里面灯火通明,但人很少.戈登上楼了.当导游打开门时,戈登从后面看到一个健壮的身影.他知道这是萨尔·马罗尼（Sal Maroni）,伦敦东区的新大名鼎鼎.
马罗尼转过身来.他长得不帅,看起来有点凶,嘴角总是下垂,眼角略带恶看.
马罗尼转动手中的戒指,打招呼道:"侦探,请坐.我为今晚大胆邀请你来这里而道歉.
"我不知道这些天暴徒们怎么了.你们似乎都很有礼貌,几乎比我更像侦探.
戈登的回应非常粗鲁.他没有像马罗尼说的那样坐下,而是站直了.
Maroni's expression flickers, but he seems not to mind Gordon's offense. He forces a smile, "I invite you here to discuss a business deal, you know, the kind often discussed among the mobs."
"I don't discuss business with the mobs."
"Oh?" Maroni laughs, "That's quite novel. I've heard some of you saying my offer isn't enough, but I've never heard anyone who doesn't want to cooperate with us."
"That's the truth. I don't work with any mobs."
"Then why did you get involved in the Godfather's business? Your field team must have made a fortune from his private prison line, right?"
"I'm just doing my job as a cop. Fighting crime is a policeman's duty," Gordon responses.
He speaks sincerely from his heart. Even if he knows that the criminals he catches only bring the Godfather more profit, his own actions are still focused on upholding justice. If this behavior can bring him money, it is better. But if not, Gordon will still persist in doing so. After all, even before this business exist, it is what he does, and he is the only one who does.
"My offer is simple. You don't need to do anything. Just delay and come up with various reasons to stop your team from going out," Maroni unfolds his hands and says, "How easy! All you have to do is nothing, and I will offer you a satisfying price."
"I can see that you've been imitating the Godfather. I haven't met Don Falcone. But I know Gotham has countless poor imitators of him. They think they can match his eloquence and politeness, mimic his tone of speech, and some even try to imitate his Italian accent."
"But it doesn't work, Mr. Maroni. You are not Falcone, and Gotham will not have a second Falcone. At least for now, Gotham belongs to the Godfather, not to you."
Maroni's face turns completely dark because Gordon hits his weak spot. He is indeed imitating Falcone. Or as Gordon says, there are too many people in Gotham imitating the Godfather.
Although they haven't even finished middle school, they still try to mimic Falcone. They use extremely refined language, twisting simple sentences into complex ones with elaborate grammar.
They wear suits, ties, pin flowers on their chests,carry pens instead of guns, just like the Godfather.
Falcone is like a symbol of Gotham City. The charisma of this Godfather is so strong that all the mob bosses imitate him. Maroni is one of them.
When you come to Gotham, you will be surprised. The mob here doesn't hire a group of thugs to kidnap you, but instead, they silently arrive at your doorstep on a rainy night in a black luxury car. Then, in a lavishly decorated room, they sit behind a black desk, dressed in suits, and politely engage in conversation.
They don't look like mobsters; they resemble a group of old-fashioned nobles, all influenced by Falcone.
It makes Maroni feel ashamed. He believes he is different from the others. He believes he has never surrendered to the Godfather's power. He believes he is destined to overthrow Falcone. But he has to admit that he has always been imitating the Godfather.
But it's only a parody. Actually,Maroni is not suited for wearing a suit at all. He doesn't possess the refined aura that the Godfather has. Even in a well-kept suit, it can't hide his brutality.
But Falcone represents the most glorious era of Gotham's mob. Every move he makes bears the mark of that turbulent time. The time-honored elegance he exudes from those golden years,as if everything was under control, fascinates Maroni deeply.
He is filled with malicious intent towards the Godfather, but like everyone else in Gotham, he also has a deep respect for him.
Gordon looks at Maroni's silence and points out, "Do you know? Before I entered this door, I knew it couldn't be the Godfather who invited me. Even though you used his favorite car and his most usual invitation."
"Really? Why?" Maroni asks.
"If it were Don Falcone who invited me today, I wouldn't be searched or disarmed. The Godfather never cares if I have weapons on me when I meet him.He is far more confident than you."
Maroni can barely continue disguising. Gordon's every word strikes his heart; they are all truths.
When Falcone invites anyone for a talk, he doesn't ask them disarmed. Even if the person is a notorious killer, he would sit behind the table, less than two meters away from those badass, unarmed, and persuade them only with his words.
But Maroni can't.
How could he let a skillful detective approach within two meters of him with a gun? He is afraid. He has to be cautious of Gordon launching a sudden attack, and he doesn't even understand why Falcone dares to do so.
Maroni never understands why the Godfather is so confident that no one dares to kill him. In his view, one mistake would mean all his efforts would be in vain with the sound of a gunshot. He would never let anyone has chance.
He believes his caution is right, but it doesn't stop him from feeling a sense of shame for the defeat before the battle even starts. In a deep voice, he growls to Gordon, "You think you are clever? Provoke me in my house again and again?!"
"You give up the disguise?" Gordon asks him. "Just now, your word was no different from a street thug. You didn't use any complex vocabulary because you thought I saw through the truth .So there is no need to pretend anymore, right?"
Maroni waves his hand, and behind him, there is a clicking sound as a bullet is chambered. The man in the suit behind him holds a shotgun, pointing it directly at Gordon.
Gordon shakes his head and sighs, "This is where the difference between you and Don Falcone lies. You brought me here, claiming it was for business, but in this world, there is no reason to kill someone if the deal doesn't work out. You're still using the mob's tactics. If I don't agree with you, you point a gun at me, forcing me to agree."
"So why did you send a car and people to bring me here? You should have hired a gang of kidnappers like the other mobs in the East End. They could have taken me to a basement, beaten me.Then, with a gun pointed at my head, asked for my agreement. And if I didn't agree, they would shoot my arm."
"Stop," Maroni roars, taking a deep breath and waving his hand. The person behind him puts down the gun. He sneers, "You're clever. You know I don't want to lose to Falcone."
"Your cleverness saved your life, Mr.Gordon. Tonight, I can let you go. But not because I'm imitating anyone; it's because I'm being merciful and giving you a chance to think. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
When Gordon walks out of the mansion, he is almost drenched in cold sweat.
Only he knows how dangerous it had been just now. If he hadn't repeatedly provoked Maroni with Falcone, igniting Maroni's rebellious mindset, he doesn't know if he would have been able to walk out of the mansion.
The cold wind of Gotham blows on him, and fine rain lines hit his face as he walks slowly back. He thinks to himself, he isn't wrong. Maroni is far inferior to Falcone. He is already furious.
If Falcone is invited tonight instead, not to mention whether Gordon's little tricks can anger the Godfather, even if he insults to Falcone, the Godfather still sends a car to take him back.
With these thoughts in mind, Gordon looks up and gazes at the night sky of Gotham. Raindrops fall into his eyes. He wipes his face, then sighs. It seems that the trouble is far from over.