Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 81 Winning in chess is sometimes not on the chessboard
Gotham City, Valentine's Day.

In the cemetery of Gotham Cemetery, apart from the cold wind and the pale thick ice and snow, there was only a broken father who slowly placed a blood-red rose in front of his son's tombstone.

“Is it worth it?”

A low and hoarse voice rang out, awakening the father from his sorrow. He subconsciously stretched out his hand into his arms, his eyes instantly becoming sharp and majestic. At this moment, he subconsciously turned back into the current generation head of the Falcone family, the godfather of the Gotham City mafia, the "Roma".

"who is it--"

“Is it worth it?”

A black shadow of fear suddenly appeared in front of him, and the wind mixed with ice and snow was swept towards Falcone along with the figure. The biting cold current made his cheeks hurt, and he couldn't help but squint his eyes.

Only the hand holding the gun remained as steady as a rock.

"What's worth it?"

Falcone pointed his gun at the black bat. Even he couldn't help but feel a little fear in his heart when facing this elusive bat.

What's more, there's a $1 million bounty on the other person's head.

"cost."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your son."

"Alberto has never been involved in my business."

"Directly or indirectly—how many other innocent sons have you ruined?"

The Godfather's face suddenly turned ashen, and he looked at the person who asked the question with gritted teeth. In fact, he could not answer this question, but he was absolutely unwilling to show weakness in front of others.

Because he was a "Roman".

What's more, no matter whether he destroyed dozens or hundreds of other people's sons, the Falcone family has come to this point, like a high-speed train, and can only continue to rush forward and cannot look back.

Just like human desire, it is endless like a rolling stone on a mountain.

"No one, and I mean, no one--" The Godfather's hand pulled the hammer of the pistol, using the crisp sound of clicks and the majestic aura of his long-held high position to put pressure on the bat opposite. This was a method he often used, and few people could withstand these moves of the Godfather.

“No one dares to talk to me like that.”

The atmosphere became tense at this point, with both sides refusing to give in. The Godfather and the Bat glared at each other, and when the gunshot rang out, the two began to fight.

However, some people do not want them to fight each other, at least not at this time.

A tough silk thread with small steel balls suddenly flew out from the side and tightly wrapped around the hand holding the godfather's gun. With just a slight pull, the pistol fell to the ground.

"Catwoman!"

Bat immediately realized where the attack came from. He turned his head and saw a cat-like figure looming in the depths of the white cemetery.

"That's me."

Every time I get close to Roman, she appears, Bat thought. Last year, when I went to Roman's room to look for evidence, I also encountered her stealing the account book. He planned to find out why.

The bat flew over to stop the cat, his five fingers tightly grasping one of her hands: "You have been very far away all this time."

"I guess it means 'thank you for saving my life'."

"You really think I can't handle that little guy with the little pistol?"

"Huh?" Catwoman smiled mischievously and scratched his face lightly with one of her sharp claws. A drop of red blood oozed out. "Are you jealous?"

"You should have continued to stay away—Falcone still has a bounty on your head."

The cat and the bat's play still produced no results.

Bright lights, blaring heaters, the clinking of glasses, lively conversation, and smartly dressed upper-class people—even on a winter night like this, there's not a hint of chill in this high-end Italian restaurant.

This is natural, as this is the restaurant of the Maroni family, the second largest gang in Gotham City, and the Maroni's standards have always been on par with those of the Romans.

The clinking sound is not only heard in front of the counter, but also in the dining area and the kitchen, and it is even louder and busier - the waiters naturally cannot drink here, and the clinking sound here is the sound of a large number of cups, plates, knives and forks being washed.

Today was Valentine's Day, and business was incredibly brisk, so the kitchen was naturally incredibly busy. The dishwashers, carrying cups and plates, trudged back and forth; the waiters, dressed in suits and ties, carrying plates; the kitchen helpers, chopping vegetables with swift, uninterrupted movements; and the chef, whose brow was sweating from hours of continuous cooking. Everyone in the kitchen was practically swamped.

Ma Zhaodi was also washing dishes casually in the crowd. He blended in really quickly. With the help of an insider in the restaurant, he lied that he was the insider's nephew, and after paying some money, he easily sneaked into the kitchen.

At this moment, his ears were accurately capturing the conversation between two people deep in the kitchen through the noisy sounds.

"Mr. Maroni, this is too much!"

The blond young man in a cheap suit and round glasses stammered, his words full of flattered gratitude, but his hands were tightly grasping the thick stacks of green banknotes, as if these colorful little cuties would fly away from his fingertips if he let go.

Seeing him like this, the calm Maroni's eyes flashed with disdain, but it quickly turned into a cordial smile. He despised such people, but at the same time he liked them very much.

Being greedy means that you can give up your bottom line; being greedy means that you can be tempted; for Maroni, who controls the resources, greedy people are the most trustworthy and useful people.

He said in a kindly soothing tone, "Nothing is 'too much' for a friend of Sal Maroni, and you are my friend, aren't you, Vernon?"

"Of course, Mr. Maloney," Vernon replied reflexively, "but—"

"You don't have any appointments tonight, do you, Vernon? Do you want to stay for dinner? I'm sure you haven't tried the food in my restaurant."

"Mr. Maroney, my employer, Mr. Dent, the district attorney, has targeted you, sir—he thinks you're the weakest link in the Falcone organization."

Hearing this answer, Maroni couldn't help laughing. In his laughter, there was both disdain and anger at being looked down upon, as well as a bit of fear of the persistent and iron-faced judge. However,
"He thinks so? He thinks so, doesn't he?"

Maroni reached out, patted Vernon on the back, and led him to the compartment like a little brother: "Come on, Vernon, try this piece of veal, it's the best in Gotham City."

Looking at Vernon eating with relish, a smug smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

Although he was a little afraid of Harvey, sometimes winning a game of chess does not necessarily mean winning on the chessboard.

No?
(End of this chapter)