The situation in Wayne Prison was not difficult to understand.
Not when you had Carmine Falcone's resources. Not when you were desperate enough to use them.
The Godfather's investigation took exactly three days.
Seventy-two hours of making calls. Pulling strings. Talking to people who'd done time there. Getting architectural schematics from bribed city officials. Building a complete picture of what Wayne's private prison actually was beneath all the corporate PR.
And at the end of those three days, Alberto's sentence became a foregone conclusion.
There was no other way.
For Alberto's sake—for his son, the gentle boy who'd become a killer trying to earn approval—Falcone had no choice but to fight the Maroni family to the bitter end. Commit fully to the path Harvey and Gordon had laid before him. Use his own empire as the weapon to destroy theirs.
The mathematics were simple. Brutal, but simple.
By the time Luigi Maroni was imprisoned, the Falcone family's influence would be 70% or 80% gone. Gutted. Hollowed out. Furthermore, considering Gotham's new system—Wayne Enterprises' transformation program, constantly converting gang members into ordinary citizens through labor reform—he had little chance of defeating the Prosecutor's Office and the Gotham Police Department now that they'd allied with Wayne.
His own imprisonment was inevitable.
So choosing a better cell ahead of time? That was just wise planning.
At present, Wayne Private Prison had only one significant drawback beyond the considerable amount of labor required: it "cannot be bribed with money." No amount of cash could buy better treatment. No guards could be corrupted. No privileges purchased.
For a man who'd built an empire on bribery and corruption, that stung.
But.
"No fighting, bullying, or violence allowed" also brought considerable security to the prison. Alberto would be safe there. Protected. Given genuine opportunities for rehabilitation instead of being thrown into a concrete cage to rot.
Falcone stood in his apartment, phone in hand, staring at the number he'd been given.
Commissioner Gordon. Direct line.
"Alberto," he whispered to the empty room. "Forgive me."
Then he dialed.
SLAM!
"Does that bastard really want to fight us to the death?!"
In the Maroni family's mansion—baroque architecture gone to seed, the kind of old money building that screamed power despite the rot underneath—Luigi slammed his phone down hard enough to crack the cradle.
His hand throbbed. He didn't care.
The Godfather had been sending out peace signals for days. Careful overtures through intermediaries. Subtle messages delivered by neutral parties. The two sides had already agreed on a time and place for negotiation. A sit-down. The kind of meeting where old men decided the futures of young soldiers without anyone needing to die.
It had made Luigi feel relieved. Cautiously optimistic.
The damage with Falcone these past months had been severe. Blood on both sides. Operations shut down. Money lost. Soldiers dead or imprisoned. The kind of attrition that made even hardened gangsters think about long-term survival instead of immediate revenge.
Sure, many members of the family were dead. Yes, him and his son Sal had been shot on Father's Day by that Holiday Killer bastard. And there were lingering suspicions about Carmine Falcone's role in everything.
But.
If you thought about it carefully. Really thought about it.
The Holiday Killer incident might not have been directly instructed by Carmine Falcone.
The evidence was circumstantial but compelling: a long time had passed since the day Alberto was supposedly arrested, and the Maroni family hadn't welcomed a second madman shooting people with a .22 caliber pistol. And more importantly, the Romans hadn't been secretly searching for their youngest son. No desperate inquiries. No ransom demands. No pressure applied through the usual channels.
This showed that Falcone might genuinely not know what Alberto had done.
Maybe he really thought his son was dead? Still mourning the boy who'd "drowned" on New Year's Eve?
Luigi had carefully reviewed the entire situation with fresh eyes. Both Maroni and Falcone were severely weakened now. Bleeding. Vulnerable. Which meant negotiation made sense.
If both sides could exchange information honestly, perhaps a better solution could be found. Even if they took a step back, the situation wouldn't get any worse.
At worst, they could just keep fighting. He had gotten himself a new very effective weapon. Luigi was confident he could inflict a crushing defeat on the Romans if it came to open war.
But then.
More news had come.
Bad news.
Terrible news.
Falcone had changed his mind. Completely. Without explanation or warning. He'd directly canceled the meeting between the two parties. Refused the sit-down. Rejected peace.
And instead?
He'd sent a message.
A threat delivered with the cold certainty of a man who'd made his final decision:
I will completely eliminate the Maroni family. Leave only one mafia family in Gotham City. And then I will return all shots I received as a child—every single one of them—to Sal Maroni personally.
Luigi stared at the broken phone cradle. At his own reflection in the polished mahogany desk. At the empire his father had built and he'd inherited, now crumbling under pressure from every direction.
"That's too much," he spat. "Do you really think the Maroni family is afraid of going to jail?"
His fist hit the desk again. The sound echoed through the empty office.
"The Romans want war? Fine. Then we will give them war!"
Somewhere in Gotham, in a dimension beyond normal perception where cosmic bureaucrats tracked employment metrics across universes, a checkbox was ticked.
Objective complete.
The very next day after Luigi declared war.
Jude's phone rang.
He answered on the second ring. "Yeah?"
"Things are on the right track, Yuuto." Harvey's voice sounded satisfied. Almost smug. The tone of a prosecutor who'd just gotten a confession without needing to ask for it. "Falcone agreed to our terms for his son. And Maroni shouted slogans about fighting to the death."
He paused. Jude could hear the smile in his voice.
"Both of them took the bait. Exactly as planned."
Jude started to respond when his vision flickered.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
The panel materialized in front of him, glowing softly in the afternoon light streaming through his apartment window.
[Your current part-time job in Gotham City has been completed.]
[Gotham, your work location, is about to undergo an upgrade.]
[According to system predictions, the number of local part-time jobs will decrease sharply during the upgrade period.]
Jude blinked. "Harvey, I'm gonna have to call you back."
"Everything okay Yuuto?"
"Yeah. Just—system stuff. I'll explain later."
He hung up. Focused on the notifications scrolling past his vision like the world's most surreal employee performance review.
[PERFORMANCE EVALUATION FOR THIS STAGE: EXCELLENT]
[Reward Skill for This Phase: Batman's Friendship]
[Reward Skill for This Phase: Gather and Start a Group]
[Bonus Skill for This Phase: I Didn't Kill Anyone]
Jude stared at the first reward.
Batman's Friendship.
He felt... conflicted.
On one hand, it sounded meaningful. Important. The kind of thing that should come with emotional weight and dramatic music.
On the other hand, he knew Batman.
His finger hovered over the skill description. He almost didn't want to read it. Already suspected what it would say.
He clicked anyway.
[Batman's Friendship]
Note: Now that you have this thing, you should know it's useless. Batman doesn't remove you from his counter-strategy plans, nor does he hit you any less gently during sparring.
"Called it," Jude muttered.
He even wanted to find Batman right now. Track him down to whatever rooftop he was currently brooding on. Throw something at his stupid pointy-eared cowl.
Because what the system said was absolutely correct.
Batman's friendship meant you got to be on the list of people he trusted. Which was nice. Emotionally validating.
It also meant you got to be on the list of people he had detailed contingency plans to neutralize if you went rogue.
No exceptions. Not even for friends.
Especially not for friends.
Jude sighed and moved to the second reward, hoping for something actually useful.
[Gather and Start a Group]
Note: To deal with this kind of evil heretic, there's no need to talk about chivalry. We all have to fight together!
His eyes lit up.
Now we were talking.
He examined the skill description carefully, reading every detail twice to make sure he understood correctly.
The effect was straightforward but incredibly powerful: when he went on business trips to other universes for work assignments, he would be given the authority to bring people with him. He could choose a friendly character with whom he had already gained "friendship" status in this world and as long as the other party agreed, they could travel together to that universe and back.
Jude's mind immediately went to the obvious candidate.
"Oh, awesome!" He grinned, pacing his small apartment. "If I take Batman with me when I go on a business trip, won't it be like taking off right away? Instant easy mode!"
Then reality set in.
Batman didn't always have time. The man had a city to protect. A rogues' gallery that required constant vigilance. A butler who needed company. An orphan boy who was probably already training to become Robin whether Bruce knew it yet or not.
Jude would still need to be mentally prepared to go alone on most assignments.
But the option was there. And options had value.
He moved to the third reward, which had a significantly longer description.
[I Didn't Kill Anyone]
Note: I would shoot people to pieces with a gun. I would break their spine with a guardrail. I would hit them on the head with a metal baseball bat and send them flying three meters. I would hit them directly with a motorcycle. I would throw them directly from a windowsill to the ground below—
But no matter what, in a nutshell, I did not kill anyone. I am innocent.
—by Kiryu Kazuma
Note 2: Batman gave a thumbs up 👍
Jude stared at the annotation for a long moment.
"Are you two on the same page?" he asked the empty air. "Is this some kind of non-lethal combat philosophy club I wasn't aware of?"
The Dragon of Dojima and the Dark Knight. Both absolutely convinced that caving someone's skull in with blunt force trauma somehow didn't count as lethal force if you really, really believed in yourself.
Jokes aside, the skill's effects were incredibly powerful.
This was an active skill, currently limited to Jude himself, with a duration of twelve hours. As for the skill's effects—exactly as the notes stated—as long as this skill was active, no matter what weapon Jude used or how much damage he inflicted, the target would not actually die. The opponent would always survive. Broken bones? Sure. Concussions? Absolutely. Severe internal bleeding? Probably.
But death?
Impossible.
The skill could be upgraded, though it required significant expenditure of Asset Points. The first upgrade cost $100,000, expanding the duration to twenty-four hours and allowing Jude to designate two targets for the no-death effect. If upgraded further, the range would expand to a full area-of-effect: "No one within the skill's range can kill anyone else."
Basically turning any combat zone into a PG-13 action movie where everyone survived no matter how brutal the violence got.
As for how much the second upgrade would cost, Jude wasn't too curious right now. He only had about $150,000 worth of asset points remaining—the leftovers after buying Nora Fries's cure and various other purchases. He planned to save them for emergencies.
Real emergencies. Not hypothetical future convenience.
Another notification appeared.
[Searching for new part-time job locations...]
[Found a very willing employer—]
[New location for odd jobs has been identified. This job is a SPECIAL BUSINESS TRIP ASSIGNMENT.]
[After completing this work, you will receive an employee privilege upgrade. The system will open up the right to work and travel outside of Gotham City permanently.]
Jude paused.
Outside of Gotham City.
Permanently.
That was... significant. Currently, he was locked to Gotham. Every mission, every job, every system assignment tied to this specific nightmare city. But if he completed this business trip successfully, the entire world would open up.
The next notification made him frown slightly.
[Note: This employer is only able to provide knowledge and skills as compensation. No monetary payment available. You can choose to refuse, and the system will search for a new business trip commission.]
No money. Just skills.
Jude considered. On one hand, cash was always useful. Asset points bought system items, which bought survival.
On the other hand, skills were permanent. And the skills being offered—
[Remuneration for This Business Trip:]
Advanced Mechanical Mastery
Master-level Aerodynamics Mastery
Master-level Kite Skill Mastery
Jude read that last one again.
Master-level Kite Skill Mastery.
In combination with Master-level Aerodynamics.
His mind immediately went to a very specific person. A very specific fighting style. A very specific way of using kites that absolutely should not work but somehow did anyway because Gotham logic didn't care about physics.
"Oh no," he muttered.
The final notification confirmed his suspicion.
[This business trip destination is: Gotham City – Battle of Jokes and Riddles]
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