121-125

Chapter 121: Dinner, A Slash — How Did He Just Give Up? 

Inside the prison, Maroni turned around, looking at Vernon, who stood respectfully outside the door. 

"Mr. Maroni, someone wants to see you." 

"Vernon, I thought I told you not to let boring people bother me." 

"Sir, this is someone you specifically asked to see before." 

Hearing Vernon, Maroni suddenly remembered. A few days ago, he had indeed told Vernon to arrange something. 

"Very well, let him in then." 

Harvey raised his hand and glanced at the time on his watch. This was for later reference, useful for intercepting recordings – although this method of evidence gathering wasn't legal and the recordings couldn't be used in court, he could still analyze them for important information. 

A moment later, the fawning voice of an adult man came through the phone. 

"Mr. Maroni, Mr. Vernon here said you wanted to see me." 

"My friend," Maroni replied. "It's not just that I want to see you, you want to see me too – what's your name?" 

"Jenkins, Mr. Maroni, my name is Cary Jenkins." 

"Ah, Jenkins." Maroni chuckled. "I like your name. I guess we might just become friends, wouldn't you say?" 

"Of course, Mr. Maroni – it would be my honor to have a friend like you." 

"Excellent, excellent, Mr. Jenkins. I, Maroni, never shortchange my friends. My dinner is about to arrive from the mess hall. Vernon, tell them to send up two bottles of high-end wine too, and that bag as well. – Mr. Jenkins, how about we talk over dinner?" 

"I couldn't wish for anything more, Mr. Maroni." 

Harvey listened to their conversation with aPoker face (面無表情 - expressionless face). He had long expected that the restrictions on someone like Maroni in prison would be extremely limited, and he'd guessed he was probably living quite comfortably inside. In fact, if it weren't for needing to deal with Falcone, Maroni wouldn't have ended up in prison at all. 

But none of that mattered, he thought. If Falcone didn't take care of Maroni, he wouldn't hesitate to do it himself. 

"Everyone meets their end... sooner or later." 

The voices continued from the other side of the phone. Vernon was quick, and Maroni's 'mess hall' wasn't slow either. 

Before long, the sounds of glasses clinking and people drinking and chatting could be heard from the other end. 

"Jenkins, you're a truly talented man. How can someone like you dress so... casually? Look at your suit, look at your watch and shoes. – The gravy train in this prison isn't enough to feed a whole family, is it?" 

Jenkins subconsciously looked at his own suit, a mid-range one that wasn't exactly cheap, and quickly realized what Maroni was getting at. He immediately dropped his smile and sighed, "I... I just work in the prison, the pay is meager, the income isn't high, things are tight..." 

"Ah, don't sigh, my friend." Maroni reached out and patted Jenkins' shoulder. "Look, Vernon here is just an ordinary Assistant District Attorney too. His life was just like yours before – but ever since he met a friend like me, he hasn't worried about money again." 

"My friend, look at his suit, the gold watch on his wrist. It's like I said – I, Sal Maroni, will never treat my friends poorly." 

Watching the growing light in Jenkins' eyes, a smile played on Maroni's lips. He saw greed in the other man's gaze. 

Greedier than Vernon, good... the greedier, the easier to control. 

"Vernon, where's that stuff I asked you to get from the mess hall?" 

Hearing this, Vernon immediately produced a paper bag and handed it to Maroni. Maroni took it and pulled out several stacks of cash. The scene was somewhat reminiscent of when he'd recruited Vernon in the restaurant back then. 

Harvey couldn't see what he took from the bag, but he could hear the crisp rustling sound of the edges of the paper stacks against a thumb. With a little thought, he guessed what it was. 

"My friend Jenkins, consider this a little meeting gift from me – get yourself some good threads, buy your wife some presents, help out with the household expenses." 

"Mr. Maroni, this..." 

"Don't refuse, friends should help each other. What's a little bit of this between us?" 

The three of them clinked glasses. Jenkins accepted the money without much fuss. At this moment, Vernon suddenly sighed. 

"Ah, friends should help each other, but recently Mr. Maroni has been troubled, and I can't help him ease his worries. That's really upsetting." 

"? Mr. Maroni, what's bothering you?" 

"Ah, it's really nothing... My friend, you know I'm not the kind of person who likes to be restricted by nature. Ever since I came to prison, I see a camera dangling near my head every day. It's truly irritating." 

Jenkins immediately understood and even secretly breathed a sigh of relief. 

Just a camera, that was a small matter for him. Maybe Maroni was recruiting him to cover for some inmates long-term in the future, or to torture and kill others, but for now, this simple request about the camera was very easy to fulfill. 

"And then there's that Harvey Dent, that pest is always in my face, trying to use the camera to muzzle me. I, Maroni, don't like to be threatened, I really don't." 

"Mr. Maroni," Jenkins spoke up at this point. "A friend's trouble is my trouble. I think this annoying camera might not necessarily work – it's been there for so long, circuit failure, years of disrepair, lost footage, it's all possible. From now on, it definitely won't trouble Mr. Maroni anymore." 

"Oh? Really?" 

"I guarantee it, Mr. Maroni. It will never bother you again. And, I will thoroughly check this prison room to make sure there are no other functional surveillance devices." 

"My friend Jenkins, you truly are thoughtful." 

The two of them laughed heartily, poured expensive red wine into their glasses, and drank it down. 

In the time that followed, Gotham City seemed to have no major incidents. The bank vault robbery case became the new topic of conversation, but since no money was actually lost, and Scarecrow and Mad Hatter were caught, the incident was actually publicized as a positive case, proving the professionalism of Gotham Bank and the Gotham Police Department. 

Of course, Gotham citizens were still talking about the reliable gossip – word was that Batman was on the scene that day, because passersby who came later saw him interrogating those two criminals there. Just as Batman expected, 

Cody was perfectly hidden. 

However, this piece of information was actually more important than most people thought, because it had a significant impact on one person. 

"Are you questioning me?" 

"Your actions! Carmine Falcone, I'm questioning your actions – you hired those freaks to do a job, and you failed! This isn't how we do things!" 

Chapter 122: Arch-Enemies Band Together, Justice Walks Alone 

"Carmine! Look what you've done!" 

In the Roman's office, Carmine Falcone, "The Roman", was being loudly questioned by Carla Vitti. Carla still hadn't found the killer of Johnny Vitti, and the anger bottled up inside her was already immense. When she found out that Falcone had broken the long-standing rules of the mafia and hired those supercriminals from Gotham City, she immediately remembered why she had come to Gotham in the first place. 

The Vitti family was rooted in Chicago, and Carla Vitti had started targeting Falcone as soon as she arrived in Gotham – from the very beginning, the Vitti family wanted to seize control of Gotham City from The Roman. 

And now, she just happened to have a reason to make her move. 

Even in the eyes of the mob, those supercriminals could be called chaotic, disorderly murderers, mentally disturbed perverts, freaks born inherently incompatible with the world. The mob only ever did things for one reason: money. That's why they made rules, built gangs, created networks, and carefully operated a stable, profitable network in Gotham City that could continuously generate wealth for them in the long run. 

But those lunatics were different. They only acted on whims. The Joker would think of indiscriminate slaughter just to find the Holiday Killer; Poison Ivy would turn anyone who extensively damaged plants into fertilizer; Scarecrow, when bored, liked to develop new toxins and carry out terror attacks; the Mad Hatter would brainwash young girls to become his Alice in his fairytale wonderland and kill them if he wasn't satisfied; the Riddler never minded using human lives as stakes when he left riddles – each of them had their own brand of madness. 

Crazy, disorderly, cruel, acting based on their own malice rather than actual profit, none of it compatible with the legitimate side of Gotham City. The Gotham mob, who sought stability and rules, couldn't afford to provoke these lunatics and could only cautiously stay out of their way. 

But what had The Roman done? 

"You hired Poison Ivy, the Riddler, the Scarecrow, and even the Mad Hatter! Four freaks! A bunch of perverts!" 

The Roman stood in his office, staring coolly at the front-page news about the bank robbery in the Gotham Gazette. He hadn't expected that a combination like Scarecrow and Mad Hatter still couldn't hold off Batman, which meant all the effort and money he'd spent earlier had been for nothing – and now, he was in a terrible mood. 

"What are you afraid of? He's wearing headphones, ignoring everything around him anyway – Sophie charging Maroni in court? He dares to get involved in that? If The Roman takes care of Sophie, he'll turn around and come for him next. I'm really afraid of being dragged down to die with him." 

"Dad, you needed to see me?" 

The Godfather replied to Carla's words, slightly turning sideways towards her. In that instant, the authority and coldness in his eyes almost froze his sister, who had come to demand an explanation: "never order me to explain myself to you." 

"Unfortunately, I didn't succeed. Since that's the case, I have no choice but to deal with the second troublesome matter." 

Falcone hesitated for a moment, then nodded to her father. She put the newspaper back on the table and turned to leave the office. 

Today was another uneventful day. Harvey sat in his office, preparing documents for the court hearing on April 7th. Everyone in the District Attorney's office knew that this was a trial he took very seriously, so recently, even Vernon rarely came running into his office to find him. 

Originally, she had wanted to ask her father about the arrangements for his birthday – April 7th was The Roman's birthday, and with about fifty-something days left, it was the right time to start preparations. The Roman's birthday banquet was naturally extraordinary; besides a small party consisting of a few direct relatives of the Maroni family, there was also a large banquet in the evening. 

Falcone conveniently flipped the page of the newspaper and looked at the next piece of news immediately following the headline. In that instant, a flicker of emotion crossed her face. 

"No, Dad." 

"Keep your voice down, District Attorney Dent hasn't left work yet." 

However, Harvey, wearing headphones, couldn't hear his colleagues' whispers at the moment. He was focused, listening to the conversation coming from his headphones. 

"Say less. The Roman is the mob..." 

Carla finally backed down. She turned and left Maroni's office with a look of indignation. Thankfully, she didn't slam the door on her way out, otherwise, Maroni's mood might have been even worse. 

"As for that matter," Maroni shook his head. "I don't know what kind of crazy Sal Falcone has gone into. I originally thought that since St. Patrick's Day, our war should have paused, but he's still relentlessly pursuing it, even going so far as to personally testify against me in court – there must be something wrong with this." 

"And if he truly won't listen... Falcone, you should know why I'm sending you." 

A few minutes later, Falcone knocked on Maroni's door. 

"Carla, you are my family, and I love you." 

What was interesting, though, was that District Attorney Harvey Dent seemed to have gotten into the habit of working with a pair of headphones on recently. According to him, it was to block out noise, to block out distractions. 

"Falcone, you saw the newspaper, right?" 

"Flip the page." 

"Sal Falcone to Testify Against Carmine Falcone in Court, What's Harvey Dent's Brilliant Plan?" 

Maroni handed the newspaper in his hand to his daughter. "The headline on the front page, the one about the bank robbery... If that had succeeded, the matter of me hiring Poison Ivy before probably would have been written off with it. After all, it would prove that hiring those lunatics can bring greater benefits." 

"When someone has the ability to control your purse strings and your neck, never mind if they're the mob, if they're those crazy perverts from Arkham, you'd best follow their line of thinking. You're a person who can starve and die first, and then a prosecutor, understand?" 

"Block out my foot, he's isolating himself from the world." 

But after learning that Sal was going to testify against her father in court, Falcone temporarily lost the desire to ask more questions. She hurried out of Sal Falcone's apartment, got into a car, and headed towards the prison. 

"Go see Sal. Tell him that the shooting he and his father experienced was absolutely not ordered by me. Maroni will work with the Falcone family to find that killer. We don't need to be enemies, and we shouldn't fall into someone else's trap – mutual destruction is good for no one, it will only benefit that Harvey Dent, and his suspicion as the Holiday Killer hasn't been cleared yet." 

"What matter?" 

"Mr. Falcone, you have a visitor – a very important person has come to see you." 

"I originally intended to ignore this matter and focus on running the family business, but now, your Aunt Carla is stirring things up – I don't want to be attacked from both sides, dealing with a wolf while also dealing with a snake." 

Chapter 123: Sofia's Honey Trap 

After landing in prison, the biggest perk was supposed to be peace and quiet – at least, that's what Maroni initially thought. 

Turns out, he was dead wrong. 

Seeing Maroni locked up, some people just couldn't help but start hatching their schemes. The untouchable, all-powerful figure of Gotham, now right there in front of them. If they could somehow manage to leave a good impression, be seen as useful by him – even if it wasn't a direct ticket to the top, it would at least guarantee some scraps. The smallest bit from a mob boss like him could be a golden opportunity for them. 

Because of this, Maroni had truly seen enough boring people lately. He didn't mind guys with greed, but they had to be useful. And disappointingly, most of the people who came forward to volunteer were just rotten apples and bad eggs, completely useless to him, just wanting to suck up and show off. 

Utterly fed up, Maroni couldn't stand this DDoS-style barrage of harassment anymore. He simply told Vernon he didn't want to see anyone else during this time, no matter who they were. 

Yet today, Vernon's voice echoed in his ears again. 

"Mr. Maroni, you have a visitor." 

Hearing Vernon's voice, Maroni felt a wave of annoyance. This phrase had echoed in his ears dozens, maybe even a hundred times these past few days. Hearing it again now made him feel like he wanted to throw up. 

He turned a page of the Gotham newspaper in his hand and replied flatly, "I don't want to see anyone." 

Vernon looked troubled. He always followed Sal Maroni's instructions unconditionally – it was the foundation of being a good underling. But the person who came today was a tough customer, making him hesitate to refuse. 

"But, sir..." 

"Vernon, I won't say it again." 

Just as Vernon didn't know how to reply, a figure pushed the door open and walked straight in, stopping in front of the bars as if no one else was there. 

"Hello, Sal." 

Maroni's face shifted slightly at the sound of the voice. He lowered the newspaper in his hand and saw the unexpected visitor. He also saw Vernon standing to the side, looking troubled. 

"Vernon, go on," he suddenly changed his tune. "I want to hear what this Falcone family member wants to talk about with me – go find something else to do." 

Relieved as if granted amnesty, Vernon immediately scurried out, closing the door behind him. He knew perfectly well that this kind of talk between bosses wasn't for his ears. 

Seeing the door close, Maroni stubbed out his cigarette. "I had someone check. This prison has been soundproofed. Once the door is closed, even if someone outside tries to listen in, they won't hear a thing. – So, Sofia, does your father know you're here?" 

Across the bars, the tall, imposing figure with red hair looked at Sal, whose expression was strangely soft, and her gaze also softened slightly. She replied, "Father himself sent me here, Sal." 

"Oh? What did he send you to do? Negotiate with me? Or kill me? – Sofia, the infamous Reaper of the Falcone family, would she come here just for peace?" 

Sofia didn't answer Maroni's subtly confrontational words. Her fiery red hair and sharp features were almost pressed against the bars. She fixed her eyes on Maroni's, and there was a hint of resentment in her tone: "I went to prison for you, Sal." 

"I didn't squawk like a duck, and I didn't ask for anything in return. And when the police found me, I didn't say your name." 

Listening to Sofia, Maroni couldn't maintain his cold demeanor any longer. He excitedly patted his chest, trying to cover his guilt. "That was your business, and I had to do what I needed to do, the right thing!" 

However, he couldn't continue. 

Sofia's hand reached through the bars, her index finger gently pressing against his lips. "I missed you, Sal – every night I was locked up, I thought about you." 

In just a few minutes, their conversation revealed a terrifying amount of information. If Carmine Falcone or Luigi Maroni had heard this exchange, Gotham would likely see a re-enactment of a mob version of Romeo and Juliet – the kind drenched in blood and chaos. 

Of course, there wasn't zero chance of the two families merging, but that would only happen if Roman and Luigi were both dead – the hope of two people from generations of warring families being together was slim to none. In fact, the very idea that Maroni could fall for the tall, imposing Sofia was a miracle in itself. 

On the morning Sofia was rescued from prison and ordered by her father to kill Maroni, the two of them actually saw each other as they were leaving. Sofia knew she could never defy her father's orders, and Maroni knew Sofia had put their feelings second to family hatred. Therefore, they hadn't seen each other since she got out of prison – until this moment. 

They looked into each other's eyes, their hearts filled with affection, and they couldn't help but kiss through the bars. This was something they could never do in broad daylight. At this moment, in this quiet prison cell, it was one of the few places where they could openly and unreservedly express their feelings. 

After a deep kiss, they looked at each other. Sofia spoke, "The Falcone family will work with you to find the Holiday Killer and the gunman who shot your father. We've been fighting for so many years, we shouldn't destroy each other and let someone else reap the benefits." 

No. 

A voice deep in Maroni's heart told him that the Holiday Killer, Alberto, had brought the Maroni family to this state, and it was the Falcone family who had done it. 

"Dad knows Dent got you caught up in this mess. Without Dent, everyone would be a lot better off. – I know you'll do the right thing, Sal." 

Looking into Sofia's deep, loving eyes, Maroni was silent, stunned. The scales in his heart began to slowly tip. It wasn't because of Falcone's promise, not because he weighed the pros and cons, and not because he hated Dent. 

"Sofia, you need to understand," he finally replied. "I don't trust Falcone, and I don't trust Harvey Dent. I'm agreeing to this entirely because of you." 

The cell door opened, and Sofia walked out, seeing Vernon waiting respectfully outside, keeping watch. She didn't say anything, just turned and left. 

And inside the prison, Maroni's voice rang out. 

"Vernon, come here!" 

So he hurried in, came before him, and asked respectfully, "Mr. Maroni, what do you need?" 

"When is my trial?" 

"Uh... August 2nd." 

"August 2nd. Roman's birthday, huh. What a lucky day for him." 

"On that day, I need you to help me with something..." 

*Chapter 124: The Trial * 

[Ding!] 

[You've got a new odd job available. Please check it out.] 

"Wha—what the heck?!" 

Cody, deep in sleep, jolted awake, yanked back to reality by the system's alert sound. 

He glanced up at the clock. It was exactly six in the morning, still just the faintest hint of dawn outside. Naturally, he started grumbling. 

"System, buddy, look, I appreciate the new gig, i am really does, but the timing?  

"It's only six AM! I went to bed at one! Do you have any idea how important five hours of sleep is for a kid... oh, right, I get deep sleep... but still, you shouldn't be waking me up at six! Couldn't you just let me catch a few more minute's?" 

[Request received: "Sleep a bit longer." Deleting virtual reality tactical game from system...] 

"Whoa, wait, no no no! Hold up! My bad, my bad, c'mon, man! That tactical game is actually kinda fun—no, seriously, it's really good for training my combat skills and tactical planning! Don't delete it yet!" 

Cody had been putting in a lot of training time recently, but actual combat opportunities were rare. He'd specifically found a VR game within the system that let him train while he slept for ten asset points an hour. 

The game covered fighting, shooting, group combat, stealth, you name it. He could even spend asset points to simulate specific opponents, and the muscle memory he built up in the game would transfer to his body when he woke up. Cody had been practically living in it lately. He set the graphics to a 3D-modeling style and played it like a full-on VR game. 

Even though getting hit in it actually hurt, this kind of cool VR project was totally aimed at guys like him, so Cody was having a blast and couldn't get enough of it. 

[Odd job will begin in three hours. Please prepare in advance.] 

[Justice Woven in Black and White] 

[Mission Description: Sal Maroni is set to testify in court against Carmine Falcone. One mob boss using the law to drag another mob boss down with him. On the path to justice, Prosecutor Harvey Dent has lost too much and learned even more. As today's plaintiff, he won't waste this chance. 

Note: This is a seed you planted that's grown into a strange flower. Today, you just need to quietly watch this trial unfold. Also, one more thing: no popcorn in the courtroom. 

Status: Pending (0/1) 

Reward: Black and White Two-Sided Coin - Two-Face Exclusive] 

Cody's eyes went wide. This was the first time the system had offered an item directly tied to a supervillain. 

Still, it was early. Cody got up, got dressed, and made some breakfast. The trial wasn't for another three hours anyway, and it wasn't like there was a dress code, so wearing casual clothes wouldn't make a difference. 

Gotham City Courthouse, Underground Prison. 

Maroni, smoking a cigarette, was getting into a brand new, expensive suit. He looked less like he was heading to court and more like he was about to hit a swanky party full of A-listers. He took his sweet time getting dressed up, then finally stepped out of his cell. 

Commissioner Gordon walked up, patting him down carefully over the new suit and pants, making sure he wasn't carrying anything that could be used as a weapon. Maroni was about to appear in court, so this was a necessary safety step. 

A few officers with shotguns surrounded him. One of them held handcuffs. They were all watching Maroni like hawks, ready to move if he even twitched. 

"What's with the big production, Jim?" Maroni chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Don't trust me?" 

Gordon didn't answer. After finishing the thorough check, he just gestured for the others to take him out. 

It wasn't until the group had walked away that he quietly said to their retreating backs, "No, I don't." 

As they escorted Maroni to the court entrance, Vernon, wearing a suit, was waiting right by the door, holding a paper bag. 

"Are you... Mr. Maroni?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm Vernon Fields. I work for District Attorney Harvey Dent." 

Seeing that the surrounding officers just tightened their grips on their guns but didn't chase him away, Vernon secretly let out a sigh of relief. His green appearance and the fact he was with the DA's office were pretty misleading; it made people instinctively think he wasn't some bad guy. 

"Mr. Dent asked me to give you something." 

"What's that supposed to be? Stomach medicine?" Maroni sneered. "Dent suddenly started caring about my ulcers?" 

Vernon held up the small bottle he'd taken from the paper bag, looking a bit flustered. "Uh, well, Mr. Dent just wanted to extend his friendship. If you don't want it..." 

"Alright, alright," Maroni cut him off impatiently. "Just hand it over and beat it." 

He took the bottle of stomach medicine and, urged on by the officers, walked into the courtroom. He immediately spotted a seat – the one for the defendant in this trial, the seat where 'Roman' should have been sitting. But Roman always sent someone to appear in court for him. To this day, Gotham's biggest crime boss had never lost a single case – you had to admit, there was a certain dark humor to it. 

Meanwhile, in Roman's top-floor penthouse apartment, Sofia pushed open Falcone's door. 

"Father, they're ready." 

"Good. Sofia, that matter I assigned to you earlier..." 

"It's handled, Father. Maroni is now our ally." 

A satisfied smile spread across Roman's face. 

"I trust you, Sofia. You've always been my most capable right hand. Anything I give you to do is always taken care of." 

He stepped out of the room with his daughter and pushed open the door to another room. Immediately, a chorus of singing voices rang out. 

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..." 

Roman walked into the room with a smile, and Sofia closed the door behind them. Inside, there were only about a dozen people singing the birthday song. Compared to Roman's status, a birthday party like this might seem a little modest, but in reality, every single person there was a core member of the Falcone family, the very heart of this massive machine. 

Each of them was a prominent figure in Gotham City, holding a piece of the power within the Falcone family. 

The table was covered with gift boxes of all sizes and bouquets of flowers. Clearly, everyone had carefully selected a gift for the crime boss. 

After they finished the birthday song, a cart carrying a large, multi-layered luxury cake was immediately wheeled out. Beautiful candles dotted the top of the cake, their flickering light making it look quite stunning. 

"Make a wish, Dad?" 

Falcone smiled, looking at the cake as if it were Gotham City itself. And whether in the past or the present, he was the one with the power to cut the cake. 

So he made a wish, and then, amidst everyone's blessings, he blew out the candles. 

Chapter 125: Boss, We Meet Again, Didn't See That Coming, Huh? 

"The prosecution calls Salvatore Vincent Maroni, also known as 'The Boss'! Please take the stand!" 

In the courtroom, the judge sat straight and severe, the jury's faces were grim, bailiffs stood silently by, and the audience (the peanut gallery, really) filled the seats row by row. Maroni walked forward, step by step. He caught Assistant District Attorney Vernon sitting there too, and couldn't help but feel a little amused. This guy? In a courtroom? 

But then he saw Harvey Dent standing before the bench, and that brought a touch of surprise. 

The District Attorney wore a sharp, pure white suit that matched his crisp white shirt, paired with a silver-grey silk tie and perfectly black leather shoes. He stood there, looking utterly immaculate, as if not a speck of Gotham's dirt could touch him. The courtroom lights hit him just right, making his handsome blond hair shimmer. He was dressed to the nines, like he was about to step onto a grand stage. 

Back when Harvey was a fresh-faced prosecutor, new to Gotham, he was just like this – handsome, shining, a golden boy people called Apollo. 

How long ago was that? Three years? Maybe five? Nobody really cared about the exact time. All his colleagues remembered was how Gotham's grime had dragged him down, piece by piece. Falcone, Maroni, the freaks... In just a few short years, the golden boy had withered, dried up, tormented into a grey, middle-aged man. 

"Mr. Dent, I don't recall ever seeing you in a white suit before." 

"Is that right, Mr. Maroni? Is that... strange?" 

Of course, it's strange, Maroni thought. Before, Harvey only wore black suits. In court, plain, dark, formal wear showed seriousness, respect for the proceedings. And Harvey Dent, always meticulous, never made mistakes in that kind of thing. He'd faced countless setbacks in Gotham these past few years, matured fast. He knew every detail that could tip the scales. 

Unless, of course, he and The Roman had no intention of letting him win. Then, frankly, it didn't matter what the hell Dent wore. 

He chuckled dismissively, turning his head to take a brazen look around the courtroom today. 

The judge – three million, plus a little nudge involving his family. The jury – three hundred grand each; buy off the majority, no need for threats. The bailiffs – thirty thousand a pop, no more than that. The audience – oh, just bored onlookers looking for a show. When their own skin wasn't in the game, they didn't give a damn who won. 

Maroni strolled confidently toward the witness stand. He'd only taken a few steps when something felt... off. 

Hold on. That lone guy sitting in the back row of the audience... looked kinda familiar. 

He whipped his head around, eyes scanning the last row of the public gallery. And there he was, that familiar figure. Cheap jacket, sleepy eyes, still munching on a Pocky stick. 

The moment he saw him, a flood of painful memories slammed into Maroni, uncontrolled and visceral: the burning car, the shattered restaurant, the hideout emptied by slaughter, the despair of cowering in a safe room listening to the Holiday Killer's footsteps, and that line he'd stammered out... "Boss, pizza?" Who the hell asks that when their boss is about to die?! 

I was practically kicking the bucket back then! 

It was like a fuse lit, these negative emotions exploding inside Maroni in an instant. Seeing that guy in the courtroom now sent internal alarm bells screaming. 

For a few seconds, Maroni's face twisted, like he was wearing a mask of pure agony. He'd heard the whispers about Cody's reputation within the Falcone family these past few days. He couldn't believe this jinx wasn't satisfied after being fired... now he'd even followed him to court. 

And the figure didn't disappoint Maroni's worst fears. He happened to catch Maroni's eye, immediately tucked away his Pocky, zipped up his half-open jacket, and gave him a solemn nod. That simple gesture pushed Maroni closer to despair. 

If you truly respected me... please, for the love of God, just vanish. 

Cody was slacking off in an inconspicuous corner of the audience section in the back row. 

He wasn't actually tired today, but the courtroom atmosphere was just too solemn. It made him uncomfortable. Figuring nobody would notice a background character like him anyway, he half-closed his eyes and started up a game on his system. 

After noticing someone was looking at him and giving Maroni a slight nod of respect, Cody didn't look at him again. I put the Pocky away, what more do you want? 

Then he noticed Harvey Dent at the front, looking like some kind of White Knight, and that made him question his own reality a bit. 

Holy crab, what's up with Harvey today? Looks like a peacock showing off. 

He watched District Attorney Dent offer a friendly smile, every move elegant and proper. What should have been a terrible choice for court—a white suit and a smile—looked perfectly natural on him. The struggling, overburdened prosecutor he knew was nowhere to be seen. Honestly, he looked exactly like the perfect White Knight people dreamed of. 

Was it because of Maroni's testimony? Because what he was about to say and do in court would shatter one of Gotham's biggest crime families? Could that be why Harvey wanted to meet this day looking like his original self? 

After all, in the eyes of many, today truly was a day of hope. 

No, Cody shook his head. A flower that's bloomed can't go back to being a bud. Harvey was a scarred fighter; the perfect, flawless White Knight wasn't his true nature anymore. 

On the stand, Maroni began recounting, piece by piece, his past dealings with The Roman. For these things, he had proof. 

"Yeah, yeah, he was the one who went to Mickey Gazzo and his brother Frank, and dumped their bodies in the Gotham River." 

"A lot of those 'smart' guys you're lookin' for... they're all in the Gotham River... Ugh, I finally get why I got these ulcers. Maybe it's from drinking too much dirty water." 

A weird look spread across the faces of everyone in the courtroom. What in God's name was Maroni rambling about? 

Harvey heard Maroni say that and a flicker of confusion crossed his face. "Ulcers?" 

"Yeah, this thing's killing me – maybe I've got a little conscience botherin' me too, huh, Dent?" 

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Dent frowned, the smile vanishing from his face, replaced by a touch of shadow. "I require you to answer truthfully under oath now. Do you admit you personally witnessed those murders and felonies you just described being committed by The Roman, Carmine Falcone?" 

"Falcone? Cough! Cough!" 

Maroni didn't answer the question. Instead, he broke into a violent coughing fit, reaching a hand inside his jacket pocket as he did. 

In that pocket, there was a pill bottle Vernon had given him. 

(End of Chapter)