"Oh, my friend, you finally came out of your little rundown base. Is that your weapon? What a perfect big guy he is."
Penguin walked into the factory and immediately spotted the tall, imposing black-gold puppet exuding a sense of technological steel beauty.
"Where's the stuff?"
Hardy took off his welding mask and looked at Penguin.
"Boss, everything's outside—more than twenty guns, over a thousand rounds of ammo! There are also riot shields and bulletproof vests!"
The accountant nodded and bowed to Hardy.
"Heh, these guns are just a small business. If you could mass-produce and sell this thing, I guarantee you'd become Gotham's number one—well, okay, number two richest man."
Penguin rubbed his hands together, cigar in mouth, sizing up the black-gold puppet.
This thing looked like it packed a serious punch.
"Why number two?"
Hardy asked Penguin.
"Because Gotham's richest man is Bruce Wayne. This alone won't get you more wealth than Wayne Enterprises."
Penguin pushed up his glasses.
"So, what do you say? Want to work together? You provide the tech, I provide the resources and channels. Who cares about Batman then? No matter how strong he is, could he take on an army of robots like this?"
"Sorry, but I'm the only one who can use this thing. Even if I gave you all the technology, you wouldn't be able to make it move."
Hardy extended his left hand, manipulating the black-gold puppet with chakra threads invisible to the naked eye, making it walk over and disassemble itself by his side, then reassemble to cover his entire body in three seconds.
"Let's go."
The massive black puppet strode steadily and swiftly toward the factory doors.
Ordinary goods from Penguin could be bought with money, but for the more unusual items—like those advanced miniature sensors from Queen Industries—money alone wouldn't cut it.
Fortunately, Penguin knew a bit about Hardy's background, so he was willing to test the waters for a potential collaboration.
Hardy would spend money through Penguin's channels to buy weapons for his gang, and purchase materials and high-tech products to enhance his puppets. Meanwhile, Penguin needed a powerful ally who wasn't publicly linked to him to help deal with certain rivals.
This time was a test—to gauge the strength of this fellow villain who had managed to escape Arkham Asylum even with Batman and Nightwing present.
So far, Hardy had exceeded Penguin's expectations.
"Going over there directly would be too conspicuous. I'll sell you the truck we used to deliver the goods—friend's price, just fifty thousand dollars."
Penguin grinned at the door, pointing to a large truck parked in the open lot.
"I want you to help me take care of the Sbaletta family on Dirk Street. Last month, they hijacked one of my shipments. They covered their tracks well, and I have no proof, but I'm sure it was them. Take out Simmons Sbaletta and his son John Sbaletta, and Dirk Street is yours."
"We don't have a reason to make a move. You find us one."
Hardy glanced at the truck, then spoke to Penguin.
"That's easy. Just pick any reason, like pinning the death of your gang's former boss, Chidi Cole, on them. That way, you'll also avoid conflict with the Two-Face gang, right?"
Penguin puffed on his cigar with satisfaction.
"Fine, but we're not called the Cole Gang anymore. We're Hog United now.
And I can't cough up fifty grand. This truck may be modified, but it's still second-hand. Thirty thousand, at most, and—"
"Deal."
Penguin agreed readily.
Hardy: …
He'd miscalculated—should've bargained harder.
"I'll owe you the thirty thousand for now. I don't have the cash."
"No problem. My interest rate is very low, only three percent…"
"Oh, that's really low. Maybe I'll borrow a million first…"
"Three percent monthly interest. You just said you want to borrow a million, right?"
Penguin pushed up his glasses, his face full of smiles.
"You call that a low interest rate?"
"Of course! Among Gotham's loan sharks, I'm the most ethical. Others give you impossible rates, but I'm different. I'll squeeze you to the limit—just enough to wring out every bit of value, so you can keep creating more wealth for me to harvest."
Penguin said proudly, pulling a calculator from his coat pocket.
"You just said a million, plus the thirty thousand for the truck, so the interest for one month is…"
"I'm not borrowing anymore. I'll pay you the thirty thousand tomorrow."
"Alright, what a pity. But at three percent a month, that's a daily interest of one-thousandth. You'll need to pay the extra when you settle up tomorrow."
Hardy was speechless.
This guy really knew how to make money, and as he said, would squeeze every last cent.
"The driver's my guy. He'll take you to Simmons Sba—"
Barletta's. Good luck to you all. And keep things quiet—don't make too much noise. Even though we've got someone at the GCPD to help cover for us, the less commotion the better. We don't want to attract that Bat brat's attention. And finally…"
The Penguin took out his cigar and blew out a thick cloud of smoke.
"My driver charges by the hour—fifty bucks an hour. You'll have to pay that too."
What a damn money-grubbing bastard.
"Move out!"
Hardy stepped into the truck's cargo hold and shouted to his men.
"Wuhu!"
"Let's go, let's go!"
"Let's smash those sons of bitches!"
…
The gangsters cheered, grabbing their newly acquired weapons and mounting their motorcycles.
The truck's cargo door dropped open. The roar of motorcycle and truck engines filled the air as the whole crew surged out onto the street.
"Boss, do you think we'll win?"
A man in a suit stood behind the Penguin, watching the Hog Union's men disappear at the end of the street.
"There shouldn't be a problem. The Puppeteer may be much stronger than we previously thought—just look at that big guy he's wearing. But his men aren't much; they don't look like they've done any real dirty work. They'll probably only do well if things go smoothly—just waving flags and shouting."
The Penguin leaned on his umbrella, gazing up at the sky.
Night was quietly falling, and Gotham's sky was dark and oppressive.
That was Gotham's true color—the color of the Bat.
But…
"Maybe soon, the balance of power in Gotham's underworld will shift dramatically. It won't be a total upheaval, but if we make an investment now, we're bound to make a killing. At the very least, I'm sure we won't lose."
The Penguin glanced at his watch, then opened the door of the luxury sedan beside him and got in.
"Let's go, Bob. Next, we need to meet with Maroni for business. Can't waste precious time that could be making us money."
"Yes, Boss."