*Chapter 30: Cody's Way of Cutting Losses*

The goon in the tuxedo remembered Oswald Cobblepot's exact words clearly: "Rough 'em up a little, let 'em know it's best not to mess with the Iceberg Lounge."

In other words? No killing, just send a message.

Batman was hitting hard right now, beating the tar out of Falcone's guys. Cobblepot had zero interest in making deep enemies with them, he just wanted to protect his own turf. Trashing a restaurant was about saving face. If someone actually got killed, there was no telling if Batman would keep pounding Falcone, and then Falcone would turn around and pound Cobblepot.

I can't handle Batman, but I can sure as hell handle you, Cobblepot, right?

So, when they went in this time, all they brought were some mini-submachine guns for suppression fire, and they weren't even aiming at people.

But mid-shootout, a loud wail suddenly came from the other side.

"Boss's down!"

There was even a weird hint of cheerfulness mixed in with the grief.

Everyone looked at each other. "Did their leader just drop?"

"Looks like it. So, uh, are we still fighting?"

Cobblepot's tuxedo-wearing enforcer snapped his head up. "What the hell?! Who did that?! Who shot their Manager?! Hold your fire!"

One side stopped shooting, and the other side died down too. Only that crying wail kept echoing in the empty restaurant, sounding totally obnoxious.

"Help! Someone! Manager's down! Call an ambulance! Waaah!"

"Cough, cough..." Manager clutched his chest, gasping for air, forcing out a few words. "Son of a... I'm not dead yet..."

"Oh, Boss, please don't just die like this! Waaahahaha..."

"You crying, you..."

"Boss, what do you want to say? I'll make sure your family gets the message! Waaahahaha..."

Manager was so mad he coughed violently a few more times. The stitch in his side hurt even worse now, leaving him speechless for a moment.

"Santos! Rick! Castro! Come look at him! Waaahahaha..."

BANG!

Manager couldn't take it anymore. Snapping back to reality, he grabbed a handgun and fired a shot, cutting off Cody's wailing.

"You... If you f***ing wail again, I'll put a bullet in you too, cough, cough."

"Holy cow! Their Boss isn't dead!"

Everyone stared at the Cobblepot goon who had just yelled that out cheerfully. After the crying Cody, he was the second most eye-catching person in the place.

The tuxedo goon's expression was pretty complex right now. While he was relieved inside, cheering for the enemy on the spot was clearly way out of line.

"Idiot!" He slapped the guy upside the head, forcing himself to bark, "That's their guy! What the hell are you happy about?"

The Cobblepot goon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah, what are you happy about?"

"It'd be best if he was dead..."

"Cough, cough!" The tuxedo guy suddenly coughed loudly, cutting off his subordinate's statement that was clearly going to start another fight. Facing the weird looks from everyone in the restaurant, he toughened up and shouted a final threat. "This was just a lesson for you! You all remember this: Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge aren't to be messed with!"

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"Let's go!"

The Cobblepot goons, who seemed to have won, packed up and left. But the restaurant crew, who seemed to have lost, had mixed expressions, not feeling like they'd taken any real damage in the shootout.

Because the biggest injury on the whole floor was self-inflicted. Only one bullet was used the entire time, and it pretty much shattered their own Manager's nerves and blood pressure.

"Cody..." Manager was helped into a chair and rested for ages, finally catching his breath. He pointed at Cody and yelled, "Do you have any idea how much that chandelier costs?! I told you to shoot at people! Not the damn light fixture! Cobblepot didn't even finish trashing the place before you did!"

"You pay me back within a month! Or you're finished!"

The only reason he didn't fire him was because Cody's work performance had improved super fast. Now he had several new female customers he'd served who kept coming back to the restaurant. Most importantly, he had connections with Donald.

"Boss, I don't have money for target practice, and didn't you just say 'don't worry about it, shoot the f***er'?"

"Get out!"

Cody sighed after getting chewed out, pulled out his beat-up phone, and checked the time.

Exactly ten o'clock. Off work.

"Sweet."

He headed home looking depressed, leaving behind a group of bewildered colleagues and a Manager who was back in the red zone.

The next day, Cody showed up for work as usual.

"The damage report from yesterday is in," the grumpy Manager reported to Donald. "No casualties. Tables and chairs weren't much of a loss. A few bottles of wine got smashed. The biggest loss is that expensive chandelier..."

"None of the guys got hurt? That's good."

"We only fought for a few minutes before we stopped, so no casualties... The total loss for the restaurant is only about thirty percent of what it usually is during a shootout, but if it weren't for Cody, we wouldn't have..."

"Philip, I promised I wouldn't let Cody take a swing at anyone. That bullet's on me."

Donald clapped Manager on the shoulder. "Besides, he's been driving that Death Car lately."

"Huh?"

"The guy's got some weird luck. I'm not sure if the chandelier thing counts as a loss or not—but let's keep him around for now," Donald finished, turning back to his seat. "This is the end of it. As for losing face, the family will get it back eventually."

"Are we going to go after the Penguin..."

"Nothing's decided yet, don't spread rumors." Donald waved a hand. "The Godfather says deal with the Bat-freak first, and Gordon and Harvey Dent."

"Go get some rest. Remember, he's not family yet. Don't let him shoot—be careful he doesn't hit our own guys."

When Manager heard that, his mouth twitched violently. Imagining Cody aiming at the Penguin's back and accidentally shooting one of their own guys, he instinctively shivered and wiped away cold sweat.

If that happened, the best-case scenario would be just losing a regular goon. The next best would be getting shot by Cody himself. The absolute worst would be Cody somehow taking out their own boss with one shot.

Cody was eating the employee breakfast the restaurant provided when he saw Philip walk over. He quickly put down his knife and fork and gave Manager a fawning smile.

"Hey, Boss, sleep well last night?"

Manager, who had been up all night directing the cleanup, immediately felt dizzy. He desperately fought to keep his blood pressure from spiking again and said coldly to Cody, "About the chandelier, Donald said he'll let it slide."

Cody felt a weight lift off his chest. At least Donald was a man of his word. This meant he didn't have to find a second job or figure out how to come up with the money for damages.

"Thanks."

"Thank Donald," Manager frowned. "Also, that car you're driving isn't very safe—what happened to the wheelchair you used to get to work?"

"It got stolen," Cody shrugged. "I live in the East End."

"Find another way to get to work. Try not to drive that car too much," Manager sighed and shook his head. "Cody..."

"Yeah?"

"Go practice shooting more when you have time. You can even drop my name, get a thirty percent discount."