There is no Batman in Gotham City comics.

Chapter 201, Chapter 98: Be quick, don't leave a single one behind.

Chapter 201, Chapter 98: Be quick, don't leave a single one behind.

"What do you want to do?!"

While his companion was still naively questioning him, Henderson had already shrewdly slipped behind him and opened the door.

Unfortunately, Oswald's two strong and tall bodyguards were guarding the door.

The two bodyguards, who were always by the penguin's side, naturally got to witness the rudeness of the two Jewish financial representatives today.

The two were initially puzzled, wondering how their boss, who usually couldn't tolerate even a speck of dust, would allow two little brats to run wild in front of them. Could it be that his bloodthirstiness had been worn away after inheriting the family business?

Upon seeing their employer, who was holding a gun and sneering, the two men immediately understood each other.

So the liquidation period has only just begun!

"Don't rush off! Mr. Cobblepot still has something to say to you!"

One of them shoved Henderson back inside the door and slowly closed it amidst his terrified pleas for mercy.

Henderson tried to pry open the door, but his fingers were violently severed by the sudden slamming of the door as soon as they were inserted into the crack. He was in so much pain that he knelt on the ground, clutching his two severed fingers and twisting his body.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Oswald had already beaten his begging companion to death with the butt of his rifle, and blood flowed down the carpet, pooling at Henderson's feet.

"You dare to lay a hand on us—have you considered—have you considered the consequences?"

Seeing that begging for mercy was useless, Henderson even tried to threaten them. These irrational remarks reached the ears of the bodyguards outside, making the two grown men laugh out loud.

"How do you think Mr. Cobblepot will kill him?"

"I guess they'll probably shoot them in the head, since they just said they'd let them take a bullet with them."

"I think so too, but this guy's death will definitely be gruesome!"

Having been correctly guessed by the two bodyguards, Oswald did not rush to kill them, but instead turned and walked back to his seat.

His cane was still lying there.

Although he disdained becoming the second Maroni, Oswald admitted that beating someone to death with a cane was an extremely cruel form of punishment.

For Henderson, no cruel punishment inflicted upon him could be considered excessive.

Of course, Henderson didn't sit idly by. When he saw that the little penguin dared to turn its back on him, the short, stout Jewish man suddenly unleashed all his strength and rammed into Oswald.

This is a classic example of making the wrong choice without surveying users.

If Henderson had known that his opponent was once Ricky Panton's top enforcer, he might have chosen to jump from the fifth-floor window instead of being knocked down by Oswald's punch as he did later.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Henderson, I'm just lame, but I haven't lost too much of my skills."

Os glanced at the fat man writhing in pain on the ground, then slowly took out his cane from behind the chair.

He really liked the walking stick he had gotten from Maroni, especially the bronze bird's beak inlaid on the top.

This was the court's affirmation of the loyalty of its henchmen, and now it will certainly be used to execute those henchmen who are loyal to the court.

Oswald weighed his hand and struck Henderson in the abdomen.

The sharp metal beak tore through the clothes, leaving a bloody wound on the other person's protruding belly.

"Ah—! I'm from the United Consortium, how dare you lay a hand on me!"

It's impossible for an arrogant Jewish consortium to be without enemies. Although Henderson didn't know who his superior was, he knew that his superior had helped him resolve many troubles, such as the group of thugs sent by Oswald.

That's why he couldn't understand why Oswald would still dare to provoke him when the conglomerate had already demonstrated Thunder's methods.

"If you kill me—ah!"

"It's because they provoked the United Consortium that all the Jews in Gotham City—"

"No, not even the Jews of America will choose to do business with you anymore!"

"Mr. Henderson————"

Oswald wiped the blood mixed with sweat from his jaw.

"Recognize the situation! Now that things have come to this, you don't still think I'm trying to do some kind of lousy business, do you?"

"We are enemies, all threats are meaningless. You just need to hate me, despise me, and when you're in hell, being roasted and tormented in the flames, don't forget to call my name!"

Henderson's face gradually turned pale. Due to excessive blood loss, he crawled in the dark underground like a wild boar wounded by barbed wire.

But where could he escape to? He felt as if he were dead, with only the occasional pain from the cane hitting his back reminding him how agonizing it was to be alive.

"When I die—your people—your friends—oh dear—will all be threatened with death—they will come knocking on your door, in the darkness—" Henderson used his last strength to cast a curse on the Cobblepot family.

Oswald, however, expressed his disdain for this fallacy with a dismissive click of his tongue.

"Mr. Henderson, just you wait and see! Who will go to hell to join you first—me? Or the damned court and its claws!"

boom!

He released the safety, pulled the trigger, and the bullet pierced a bloody hole in the back of Henderson's head.

Of course, Oswald didn't forget to take a photo on the corpse and then send it to the barn owl via text message.

Soon, the urgent ringtone sounded.

Oswald whistled as he hung up the phone, and promptly blocked the guy who didn't even dare to reveal his number.

The feeling of tap dancing in the face of one's opponent is wonderful. More importantly, if he can incite some hatred in the courts, perhaps Wei's infiltration operation will be even smoother.

After finishing all that, Oswald quickly took a shower and then changed into a sharp tailcoat.

He straightened his bow tie in front of the full-length mirror, put on a top hat symbolizing family tradition, and finally opened the weapons cabinet, selecting a short and powerful Scorpion submachine gun from the dazzling array of equipment.

He habitually picked up his cane, glanced at the window where the rain had suddenly become torrential, and finally took out a black umbrella from the umbrella cabinet instead.

"Gotham's weather is awful; an umbrella seems more suitable than a cane."

Oswald muttered to himself as he pushed open the castle gate.

Meanwhile, in the stables of Cobblestone Castle, the maids, with nowhere else to go, were taking shelter from the rain. They huddled around Mrs. Esther Cobblestone, who was coughing incessantly, and were lamenting their uncertainty about the future.

Many people served the Copport family for most of their lives, only to be told at the end that they had lost their jobs.

Gotham is in turmoil right now, and the impending storm is obvious even to those who don't care much about politics, let alone the capital that's rushing to invest.

With the economy declining and people's livelihoods deteriorating, elderly maids may never be able to find work again.

Meanwhile, the new head of the family, Mr. Oswald Coppert, stepped out of the castle surrounded by bodyguards with umbrellas, while on the other side, a large and menacing consortium of employees and thugs appeared.

Even the head of the family will be expelled from the manor?

The maids frowned, and a somber atmosphere permeated the crowd.

"Mr. Cobblestone, where are Henderson and the others?" asked Sanders, the lead asset appraiser for the consortium.

Oswald's smile is like a gentle breeze.

It wasn't that the little penguin was good at hiding his emotions, but rather that he couldn't help but smile when he thought about how, in a little while, this bastard who deliberately drove down the price of the manor to make a profit for the conglomerate would be riddled with holes by him.

You will see them soon.

"Is that so? Shouldn't you be leaving too?"

"Do you have enough money for a taxi? Do you need me to call one for you? Or perhaps you'd like to take shelter from the rain in the stables like those women, but it smells a bit strong there, and your mother has been coughing the whole time."

Sanders squinted and sneered.

Jewish merchants consider money their sole religion, and if Oswald hadn't gone bankrupt, they might have treated him with great respect.

But facing a pitiful bankrupt cripple, Sanders' immense sense of superiority revealed his arrogance.

Oswald's lips drooped; he hadn't expected the other party to have brought his mother to that filthy place.

Having thought this through, I lost interest in arguing with Sanders any longer.

He pointed in front of him.

"Hurry up and don't leave a single one behind."

"Yes, sir!"

Finally, they heard those words, and the two bodyguards eagerly pulled out their Thompson submachine guns from behind their backs.