American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 246 Gotham Blackout

Black diamond?

Dior raised his eyebrows slightly, as if he had heard something quite unusual.

Then, a contemptuous sneer escaped from between his teeth, and he leaned back in his chair.

"Black diamond?"

He lazily repeated the word, drawing out the last syllable with a mocking tone, "It sounds like something a low-class jewel thief or a delusional chuunibyou obsessed with dark fairy tales would say."

"A group of ninjas hiding their true identities traveled all the way to Gotham, just for this... black stone?"

He shook his head slightly, the last vestige of interest he had been piqued vanishing completely, and waved his hand lazily:
"As long as they don't smuggle their dirty feet into my Iceberg Club, or are foolish enough to set their sights on us, let them rummage through the gutter of this city."

"Gotham has enough trash already, one more won't make a difference."

Hearing Dior's obvious reluctance to get involved, a hint of disappointment flashed across Coppa's chubby face.

He had hoped that the 'king' would show some interest in this new power, even if it was just by sending his men to investigate, which would muddy the waters and give him a chance to profit from it.

Black diamond.
Just hearing the name gives it a mysterious feel, as if it could fetch an astronomical price.

Cobblestone rubbed his ring-covered hands together, then cautiously spoke again, trying to change the angle:

"Your Majesty...aren't your 'secret trio' currently...unemployed at home?"

He observed Dio's expression and began to recount the details:

"That 'electric arc,' the last time I came here I saw him working as a waiter at the door, and the occasional sparks from his body almost set a customer's wig on fire..."

"That 'slaughterhouse,' it seems, I work as a cook backstage. I've slaughtered three pigs in the last two days alone, and the chopping board is almost worn through..."

"And that 'scandal'..."

The conversation abruptly ended there.

It wasn't that Copeport wanted to stop, but a chill gripped his throat.

Dior's face darkened visibly, and his red eyes swept coldly over him, forcing him to swallow back the words about the 'scandal' that followed.

Copeport sighed inwardly.

Ugh.
...The golden phantom of the iceberg, what a handsome name...

How impressive he was when he used that title to recruit people...

That Dior guy, he actually let 'scandal' clean up these things as scandals...

Alas... what a waste of resources.
What a perfect team of three top-notch henchmen! One got electrocuted while serving dishes, another was surrounded by pig carcasses in the kitchen, and the third was tearing down flyers all over Gotham…

He sighed inwardly, but dared not show it on his face. He just smiled awkwardly and didn't bring it up again.

Dio, seeing Copport's hesitant and inwardly dramatic expression, didn't bother to explain.

He didn't need to explain his arrangements to anyone.

"Do your job, Cobbert."

Dior coldly dismissed them, saying, "Keep a close eye on your docks and business. As for the ninjas..."

"And as for those black diamonds, unless they jump right into our faces, they're not worth my time."

He paused, then added a sentence, tinged with warning:

"Of course, if they really are blind..."

“I will let them know that in Gotham, some thresholds, if crossed incorrectly, lead to hell.”

Cobblestone felt a chill run down his spine and quickly bowed, saying, "I understand."

He dared not say another word and carefully left the office.

By the way.
He used his right foot.

Seeing Copeport leave, he carefully closed the door behind him.

Dior pursed his lips, casually picked up the coat draped over the back of the chair, and smoothly put it on his shoulders.

As he slowly and methodically adjusted his cuffs, he couldn't help but mutter to himself, a hint of annoyance at being bothered by something trivial:

"Ninja? Black Diamond?"

"Tsk... What era are we living in? Still playing this kind of retro pretend game..."

He shook his head, took a step, and prepared to leave the warm office to face the tedious, stormy road leading to Smallwell.

But he had only taken less than three steps
“Sizzle—pop!”

The magnificent crystal chandelier overhead, along with all other light sources in the room, suddenly went out after a very brief hiss of electricity!

Even darkness did not descend upon this place alone.
Looking through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, he saw that Gotham, which had been brightly lit even in the heavy rain, was now visibly sinking into complete darkness, piece by piece!
The neon lights went out, and the streetlights disappeared.

The entire city seemed to have its energy supply cut off.
Only the wind and rain continued to roar tirelessly outside the window.

Dior paused in his steps.

He stood quietly in the center of the darkness, his red eyes, now devoid of artificial light, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

He showed no sign of panic; his extraordinary senses were heightened to their peak at that moment.

The ears could pick up the commotion coming from the distant street.

The air was filled with the dampness of rain, but there was no smell of burning wires.

In addition, there's the external environment.

So it doesn't seem to be a localized fault?
Is it a large-scale paralysis of the entire city?
coincidence?

He never believed in coincidences.

It just so happened at this particular time, right after he learned that a ninja group had infiltrated the area.
Dio frowned slightly. Was it to create chaos with that black stone to facilitate their operation?

After a moment's thought, Dior grasped the cold doorknob and opened the heavy office door.

It wasn't completely dark outside; the emergency exit sign cast a pale green and faint light, stretching distorted shadows down the long corridor, but that was all.

but
The moment he stepped out, a soft figure carrying a faint scent of gardenias practically threw herself into his arms.

"Well!"

Dio reacted extremely quickly. Before the figure could lose its balance and lean backward from the impact, his arms had already firmly wrapped around the other person's waist. With a little force, he straightened the soft body.

With graceful movements, he 'pulled' her out of a potentially embarrassing situation.

It is Elana Falcone.

The canary that Selena mentioned is now nominally the chief secretary of the Iceberg Club.

"Mr. Diego!"

Elana's voice was slightly breathless from being startled, but she quickly calmed down after feeling the steady strength from those firm arms.

"Don't panic."

Dio spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet corridor, carrying a strange power to soothe the soul, "The darkness is only temporary; let your eyes adjust slowly."

Elana looked up, trying to make out Dio's silhouette in the dim light.

The exquisite makeup that once belonged to Lady Falcone has long been washed away, replaced by a clean and vulnerable look with a bare face.

A few strands of chestnut hair clung to her slightly damp forehead from running. Her eyes, once pampered and naive, now resembled those of a frightened fawn, yet beneath that fear lay a resilience forged through hardship.

Unlike Selena, who was a wild rose growing rampant in the streets, with sharp thorns and alluring fragrance, she was not like that.

Elana is more like a gardenia transplanted from a greenhouse to the wild. She has shed her deliberate delicacy, but in the wind and rain, she exudes an increasingly clear and tenacious fragrance.

The woman's gaze groped through the thick gloom.

Only when she met those eyes that shone brightly in the absolute darkness did the last bit of panic in her heart disappear.

Elana let out a slight sigh, her tone returning to its usual competence, though still tinged with a hint of helplessness: "Diego, the situation doesn't seem too good."

"We just received news that Gotham's power system appears to have experienced a massive outage, paralyzing almost the entire city, including here..."

Dior frowned slightly and interrupted her: "Iceberg doesn't have a backup power source?"

Given the size of the Iceberg Club and Copport's cunning, it's impossible that they didn't have a contingency plan.

“It’s said,” Elana sighed softly upon hearing this, “that it’s theoretically possible. Mr. Cobblepot once invested a huge sum of money in an attempt to build an independent power generation system using the tides of Gotham Bay, which was very… uh… avant-garde?”

“But,” she paused, her tone turning helpless, “I don’t know why, but those critical underwater devices always corrode and break down at an alarming rate, and the maintenance costs are outrageously high, so they eventually have to be abandoned.”

Dior remained silent.

Elana seemed to understand something from his silence, and continued, "Later, Mr. Cobblepot invested heavily in installing massive solar panels on the top floor and around the club, declaring that he wanted to create a 'Gotham Green Landmark'..."

"."

Dior didn't know what to say.
“But as you know,” Elana concluded at the opportune moment, her words revealing an unconcealed sense of bewilderment and helplessness, “Gotham… seems to be raining all year round, or shrouded in dark clouds.”

Dior almost laughed in anger.

That idiot Copport…

Were they misled by some Wall Street swindler or some extreme environmental organization? Why insist on using these flashy but impractical 'environmentally friendly' energy sources? (The quotation marks are unnecessary.)
He simply couldn't understand it.

Someone actually installed solar panels in Gotham?!
Why doesn't he just sell heating systems on the streets of Dubai?
But now is not the time to dwell on Cop's intelligence.

Dior suppressed his sense of absurdity, his eyes sweeping across the dimly lit corridor, and his voice rang out calmly:

"Elana".

He turned to his secretary beside him, his tone leaving no room for argument, "Pass down the word: all staff members, except those in essential positions, must remain inside the club tonight and are not allowed to leave without permission."

He paused briefly, his gaze fixed on the starless, moonless darkness outside the window: "You and I both know what Gotham is like after the power outage. It's much more dangerous outside than inside the club right now."

Elana nodded immediately, a hint of admiration flashing in her eyes.

She gazed at Dior's profile; in the dim light, his composure, unwavering even in the face of imminent collapse, intertwined with his usual intimidating coldness, created a strange yet reliable charm.

This is the most comforting force amidst chaos.

She quickly replied, "Understood, I'll arrange it right away."

"besides."

Dior continued to issue instructions, his thinking so clear as if he had already anticipated this situation: "Send 'Arc' to the main entrance."

“Tell him not to sit idle, but to use his abilities to light up the giant billboard and the projector lights at the entrance of the Iceberg Club.”

"I don't need much electricity. I just need to be conspicuous enough so that half of Gotham can see that the iceberg is still glowing."

As expected of Dior!
They actually made a superhuman who can release high-voltage electricity act as a human generator to light up the billboard.

This idea is both luxurious and efficient, and it also solves the problems of doorway lighting and deterrence.

Elana noted it down and awaited the next instruction.

Dior hesitated for a moment, then thought of the burly man backstage who was slaughtering pigs, making the chopping board howl in agony.

"As for the 'slaughterhouse'..."

"...Let him go to the kitchen. Tell him that he's in charge of dinner for everyone in the club tonight, and that there will be plenty of ingredients. Let him focus his energy on the right things and make something edible for people."

As expected of Dior!
To make a mentally unstable, terrifyingly powerful superhuman focus on cooking.

This not only prevents him from losing control in the chaos, but also solves the catering problem for stranded employees, which is a win-win situation!
Elana quickly understood Dio's intention.

She bowed and said, "Yes, I will convey your orders immediately."

Watching Elana's hurried departure.

Dio once again cast his gaze out the window at the dark Gotham City. The Iceberg Club would be like a solitary lighthouse in a dark ocean, and that was exactly what he wanted.

As for going home…

He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

Rainwater flowed down the smooth marble surface of the club's exterior walls, gathering into rushing streams.

Despite the torrential rain and howling wind.

But the sins and desires of Gotham City, though seemingly helpless, still willingly swarmed toward this place.

Under the porch, waiters in sharp uniforms expressionlessly opened the doors of arriving luxury cars, ensuring that every distinguished guest could enter this lawless land in the most dignified manner.

And beneath this clamor...

Cobbler was struggling to squeeze into the back seat of his limousine.

But before he could complain to Lark about the damn weather and Dior's even more damn new rules,

The whole world was turned off.

Outside the car window, the Iceberg Club, which had been dazzlingly bright in the rain, was now visible.

And Gotham's iconic neon skyline.
Light and sound were simultaneously stripped away, and the world sank into a deep sea.

Only the sound of the wind and rain pounding against the car windows became clearer and more aggressive.

Copport's chubby body sat frozen in the leather seat.

He abruptly turned his head to look at the all-encompassing darkness outside the window, his carefully maintained composure shattering instantly, replaced by shock and uncertainty.

He subconsciously pulled out a handkerchief and vigorously wiped away the cold sweat that had broken out.

"Hibari, what's going on?!"

"Wait a moment, boss." Lark pressed the earpiece and made a brief communication in a low voice to the other end, then turned to the back seat, his voice as steady as ever, "It seems to be due to the storm, the whole of Gotham is without power."

Citywide power outage?!
Right after I finished reporting on the ninjas?!
This can't be a coincidence!

Could those cowardly bastards really be capable of crippling Gotham's power grid for that damned black diamond?!

damn it!
Dior...did he anticipate this with that dismissive attitude just now?

Or did he receive some information that I was unaware of?

Was he deliberately giving me a warning, implying that my intelligence work wasn't thorough enough?
Swallowing hard, Copport became even more convinced that Dio possessed information channels and foresight that he was unaware of.

Then, he looked out the window in the direction where the Iceberg Club used to be.

That dark shadow, deeper than its surroundings.
I couldn't help but sigh heavily, filled with genuine regret:
"Alas... my iceberg... has gone out... This is a loss for Gotham..."

He defied public opinion and invested heavily in tidal power and solar energy, undoubtedly for the government's laughable green subsidies and tax breaks, to facilitate his operations on a higher level...

Of course, part of the reason is that woman named Pamela Eisley.
That PhD in botany and energy science with captivating green eyes and a highly persuasive voice.

They tricked him into emptying his pockets with vague and unrealistic words like 'future' and 'upper class'.

Damn little brat!

If she hadn't somehow gotten involved with Wayne Group, she would now be a rising star in Wayne Group's development department...

He will make sure she knows the price of fooling Oswald!

The penguin was filled with resentment at this moment.
However, he had not yet fully recovered from his resentment towards Dr. Pamela.
"Snap! Sizzle—!"

A sound carrying a powerful electric current surged from behind him.

It suddenly came from the direction of the Iceberg Club!
Cobo was startled and turned around abruptly like a penguin!

All that could be seen was the top of the Iceberg Club, now shrouded in darkness.
The iceberg billboard, symbolizing his and Dior's power, was the first to light up again in the city's boundless darkness!

Not only that, the projector lights around the sign, used to create the atmosphere, were also turned on at the same time. The cold blue and white light pierced through the rain curtain, even more dazzling and flamboyant than before the power outage!
The sunlight cast shimmering shadows on the wet street.

The panicked crowd outside the club, bathed in the light of their newfound refuge, erupted in cheers of excitement and relief, rushing toward their only sanctuary.

Cobblestone's mouth was agape, his jaw almost dislocated.

He didn't even notice the handkerchief had fallen onto his knee; his chubby face was filled with disbelief and shock.

How...how is this possible?!
The whole city is without power! The club's backup power supply is clearly...

really
That man had anticipated all of this!
He didn't even bother to offer a single reminder.

He disdained using his own flashy but impractical environmental energy system, and with his own methods, he made the iceberg the only light in Dark Gotham!

I can't take the elevator.

Dior had no choice but to take the stairs.

Wherever he went, the noise that had been somewhat agitated by the power outage would quickly subside, replaced by respectful bows and low-voiced greetings: "Your Majesty."

People lowered their heads and respectfully made way for them.

It was as if a monarch was touring his territory.

Dior walked at a leisurely pace, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on the open kitchen.

There stood Arnold Edgeson, the "slaughterhouse" manager, wearing an overly white apron, in front of a huge commercial stove.

The machete in his hand was processing a huge piece of beef with dazzling speed and precision, separating it perfectly along the grain.

Several plates of steaks, arranged like works of art and bursting with juice, were already piled up next to them.

Several employees dressed in waiter uniforms were nervously queuing up to get their food, their eyes a mixture of fear of the chef's violent methods and an irresistible aroma of food. They were swallowing hard, but their expressions were distorted by the imposing atmosphere surrounding the 'slaughterhouse'.

And when your gaze sweeps over the lobby and corridors
He could see that after the panicked employees received the notices from Elana's liaison manager, who then distributed them to the managers, the fear on their faces gradually turned into relief.

They gathered together in an orderly fashion and talked in hushed tones.

The panic was calmed and the chaos was brought under control.

As for the main entrance of the club
The 'electric arc' is like the highlight of his life.

He stood in the rain, arms outstretched, his body wreathed in crackling, azure lightning.

Under his rough but adequate control, the current was constantly adjusted until the voltmeter showed the appropriate voltage. Only then did he apply the power through the converter and cables to inject the current into the iceberg's huge billboard and projection lights.

ICEBERG LOUNGE!

Let this word become the most dazzling presence in the darkness of Gotham.

Dior took it all in, his face remaining expressionless, but a barely perceptible sense of satisfaction flickered deep in his eyes.

He walked steadily through the crowd toward the club's entrance.

Outside the door, Rocman Wicker was talking to Cobblestone, who appeared to have just gotten out of the car.

But when they saw Dior come down himself, both of them looked puzzled.

Copport couldn't help but mutter to himself:

Why is the king not sitting comfortably on his throne, but instead coming to this stormy doorway? Is he trying to experience the lives of ordinary people?
Before Copport could even utter his slick, flattering greeting, Dior's icy gaze had already fallen upon his face.

"Coport"

Dior's voice was colder than the rain in the darkness of Gotham:
"Didn't you say you wanted to 'take a look' at the dock area? What, a dignified penguin like you can be scared out of your wits by a mere power outage?"

Copter's face turned green, as if he had swallowed a live fly.

His chubby fingers gripped the umbrella tightly as he gritted his teeth and said:

“Your Majesty! You’re quite something… I was just observing the situation and planning for the long term!” He tried to turn the tables on him. “And you, my esteemed King, what important instructions do you have for me to come down here in person?”

Dior gave a light hum, his tone indifferent:

"go home."

"."

The two simple words silenced both Cop and Rocco, who had trained to become a towering giant.

Come back home?

When the entire city of Gotham was paralyzed?
Copport opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't utter a word.

Roccoman bowed slightly, indicating his unconditional compliance.

"I will fetch the carriage for you right away, Your Majesty."

Dio ignored them and stood there, letting the cold rain soak his shoulders.

Their gaze fell upon the still orderly scene inside the club, as if it were undergoing a final inspection.

A brief silence fell between Dior and Coppa, with only the sound of wind and rain filling the air.

Cobblestone's chubby face twitched slightly as he pondered whether this "going home" held some deeper meaning he couldn't comprehend, or perhaps...

His Majesty the King is simply... homesick?

With the sound of tires rolling over puddles, Rocman pulled out a sleek silver motorcycle from the side garage.

Taking the black full-face helmet handed to him, Dioli put it on as soon as he landed, but just before fastening the buckle, he seemed to suddenly remember something and casually said:
"Where's Selena?"

“Miss Selena?” Rocman hesitated for a moment, then recalled, “She left about an hour ago after finishing her work… When she left, it seemed…”

He carefully chose his words, "Not very happy?"

Dio nodded.

That woman may have a lot of free time, but that free time is predicated on her astonishing efficiency.

While it takes Roccoman two or three hours to sort out and properly handle the club's peripheral affairs and intelligence screening, she can usually get it done in less than an hour, and the results are always excellent.

It's a pity that this ability wasn't used for the 'right path,' but instead was squandered on picking locks and climbing through windows, like a wild cat that's never satisfied with a peaceful life.

Bringing his thoughts back, Dior steadily got onto the motorcycle.

Look ahead at the seaside boulevard shrouded in darkness and torrential rain.

Then he glanced at Rocman beside him; after months of inhuman training, Rocman's muscles were beginning to take on the shape of cast iron.

"This physique is starting to look good."

The words were spoken and then left unsaid for a moment.

The engine roared, and the taillights drew two scarlet streaks in the rain.

The silver Harley tore through the rain and sped off without hesitation toward leaving Gotham, quickly disappearing into the deeper darkness in the distance.

Copeport, still pondering, and Roccoman, looking on with a smug expression, were left standing there, staring at each other in the wind and rain.
-
PS:

Definition: Pamela Eisley.

That is, Poison Ivy.

At this time, she had just developed a new synthetic drug and was studying its effects by distributing pheromone pills. After the school discovered her actions, she was expelled and detained pending trial.

However, she had already used pills to control the dean.

After the charges were dropped, she graduated with top honors.

She has now joined the research and development base formed by the merger of Wayne Group and Kane Chemicals.

They participated in the development of pharmaceutical and cosmetic applications, harboring even greater ambitions.

(We all know what will happen in the end)
His appearance in this book should be when Bruce returns to Gotham, which is around the time of Batman: Year Zero (when the Red Hood gang appears and the Riddler incident occurs).

(End of this chapter)