Multiverse: Deathstroke

Falcone's reign, in retrospect, was a dictatorship filled with violent darkness.

No matter what business you ran in Gotham, you had to pay protection fees to the families led by Falcone, or you wouldn't survive a day in this city.

Of course, you could call this fee something like a management fee instead, because Gotham was already the city of crime families.

But this created a problem: the rich got richer, and the poor got poorer. After all, those at the bottom of society were squeezed the hardest.

It was like the ocean, where big fish eat little fish, little fish eat shrimp, and shrimp feed on the mud.

Back then, in Gotham, over 90% of the people weren't even considered mud. They struggled to survive in the most basic jobs, barely scraping by with what little was left after paying the protection fees each month. The rest of their money only allowed them to survive, and the next month they'd be back to earning money for the families.

Everyone moved hurriedly and numbly, living the same day over and over under strict surveillance, doing everything they were told to do, no matter what it was.

If people disobeyed even slightly, they'd face beatings or worse punishments, like having their house set on fire, being gunned down in the street, or being tied to cement blocks and dumped into the sea. Everyone was shrouded in this dark terror.

You couldn't even have anything they wanted because they would take everything.

If your husband was handsome, they'd take him.

If your bicycle was decent, they'd take it.

If your sofa fabric was comfortable, they'd take that too.

Even though these actions weren't directly carried out by the Falcone family, the ones committing these acts were small-time thugs attached to minor gangs, who in turn relied on bigger powers, and those bigger powers ultimately served the ten major families.

In other places, if you asked kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, you'd get a variety of answers: scientists, priests, maybe firefighters.

But in Gotham back then, there was only one answer: they wanted to be the boss.

Because the only way for kids to make something of themselves was to join the darkness, follow a good boss, and become the kind of person they hated as children, climbing the ranks through all sorts of dark deeds.

Back then, more than half of Gotham's officials accepted political donations from the ten families. The other half lived under constant threats and intimidation. It was a city without hope.

It was during that time that James Gordon, a retired military man, returned to the city and became a detective. His first case was the murder of Bruce Wayne's parents in an alley.

He comforted the young Bruce and promised her he'd get to the bottom of everything and bring her parents' killers to justice.

But all the clues pointed to the ten families, and during his investigation, he encountered countless obstacles, seeing the terrifying undercurrents beneath the darkness.

To be fair, as a homicide detective at that time, Gordon's life wasn't too bad.

As a cop, he didn't have to pay protection fees, and the thugs wouldn't bother them.

After all, in the eyes of the ten families, Gotham was their city, and the police were maintaining order for their families. Why would their own people have to pay protection fees?

Although Gordon was born in Gotham, he had seen the outside world—a vibrant, colorful world that wasn't like Gotham's ever-present gloom. He couldn't accept his city being like this.

He was determined to bring all the villains to justice and let Gotham see the light again.

Even though half of his paycheck came from the Falcones, and his plate was always filled with good food.

But he wasn't doing this for himself; he was doing it for the many poor people.

So, he suffered greatly: he was demoted, threatened, framed, and assassinated.

The deeper his investigation went, the more intense his enemies' tactics became. He narrowly escaped death countless times, until a decade ago, when Batgirl appeared. The two of them fought hard for three years, and finally, he won.

The ten families crumbled, leaving only the Cobblepots, now represented by the Penguin. But the territory she held was less than one percent of what it used to be.

He personally sent Falcone, the former emperor of Gotham, to Blackgate Prison.

Although Falcone was released soon after, he left for Hong Kong, and Gordon never saw him again.

After that, Gordon focused his energy on dealing with the endless stream of masked figures. Only when he had a drink at night would he think back to the thrilling days of his youth.

And now, the man from his memories appeared before him.

"Gordon, the good young man from back then, you've grown old too."

Falcone spoke with a sigh, looking at Gordon with no trace of hatred in his eyes, like an old man looking at a younger relative.

He still had that same aura, impeccably dressed and elegantly poised. Everything in this room seemed to have reversed time, back to the heyday of the 'Roman,' when Gordon first met him.

Back when Gordon initially sought him out for clues during a case, Falcone had received him just as graciously. The emperor of the city and a lowly detective, separated only by this very desk, had talked.

Just like today.

Gordon wouldn't be fooled by him. Maybe thirty years ago, but not today. He still remembered how Falcone's men had "invited" him here.

The Roman had returned, fully armed!

"You've aged even faster than me, Falcone."

Despite the situation, Gordon didn't back down, immediately retorting with sharp words.

Falcone only smiled, still gently stroking his cat. The feline, warmed by the fireplace, yawned lazily in his lap, perfectly content.

"Yes, we're both old. This world belongs to the young now, so I thought I'd come back to see this place one last time before I die."

"There's nothing to see in Gotham. You should leave." Gordon sat opposite him, staring calmly into his eyes.

Falcone's hand paused as he sniffed the rose on his chest and looked at Gordon, puzzled. "Yes, nothing worth seeing... I left you a magnificent city, and you let it become like this?"

"At least people gained their freedom." Gordon closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa.

"What is freedom worth? People don't even dare leave their homes at night anymore." Falcone shook his head and laughed, as if he'd heard a joke. Seeing Gordon's closed eyes, he continued, "You and Batgirl deceived me back then. I don't blame you because I know you wanted a better city."

"I don't blame her either, because someone in my family killed Bruce's parents behind my back. Although it was the Court of Owls infiltrating, it was still the retribution I deserved."

"..." Gordon said nothing.

"Remember? I asked you what you wanted. You told me you wanted a city where people could live peacefully and children could grow up healthy. So I let go. I gave it to you to accomplish what I couldn't. I let you put me in prison. I made you Gotham's hope, and then I left. But this is your answer?"

Falcone calmly placed his cat on the carpet, watching it curl up and fall asleep. He picked up a bottle from his desk and poured the golden liquid into two glasses, the drink glistening in the firelight.

"Gotham... just needs more time. It will get better..." Gordon spoke words he hardly believed himself.

"That's why I like you, Gordon. You always hold on to hope and never give up." Falcone smiled, stood up shakily, and handed Gordon a glass, gently clinking it against his own. "Compared to that little cripple from the Cobblepot family, you're my ideal successor."