Chapter 2: The Fall of the Falcones

Chapter 2: The Fall of the Falcones

The cold night air settled over Gotham, a city forever drowning in its own shadows. From the top of his penthouse, he watched the streets below, where power shifted not through elections or policies, but through blood and leverage. The Falcone family had ruled Gotham's underworld for decades. That ended tonight.

Selina had been efficient. The files she provided detailed everything—safe houses, laundering fronts, weapons caches, and personal schedules of Carmine Falcone and his top lieutenants.

He scrolled through the information on his tablet, his fingers tracing over names that would soon be erased from Gotham's criminal history. It wasn't about turf wars or vendettas. This was a message—to the city, to its criminals, and to those who believed themselves untouchable.

"How do you want to handle it?" Selina leaned against the window, her emerald eyes reflecting the city lights.

"Fast. Precise. Untraceable." He tapped the screen, sending an encrypted message. "It starts now."

Within seconds, the city shifted.

At a warehouse near the docks, a series of explosions lit up the night sky, reducing Falcone's primary weapon storage to ashes. In the East End, his biggest drug operation was raided by masked mercenaries, the men inside slaughtered before they could even reach their guns. Across Gotham, his businesses—casinos, clubs, smuggling rings—were hit simultaneously, mercilessly.

By the time Carmine Falcone himself realized what was happening, it was already too late.

He was holed up in his estate, surrounded by armed guards who clutched their rifles with shaking hands. Fear had already seeped into their bones. They had fought turf wars before, had seen rivals come and go. But this? This wasn't a rival gang making a move. This was a ghost. A force they couldn't see, couldn't negotiate with, couldn't bribe.

And then the lights cut out.

Falcone barely had time to reach for his gun before the sound of suppressed gunfire filled the halls. Screams followed, brief and panicked, before being snuffed out one by one.

The heavy doors to his office burst open.

He didn't recognize the man who stepped inside, dressed in a sleek black coat, his presence carrying the weight of inevitability. But he recognized the woman beside him—Selina Kyle.

"You," Falcone spat, gripping the gun in his hands. His fingers trembled. "You're working for him?"

Selina just smirked. "I work for whoever pays best. And you, Carmine? You're broke."

Falcone snarled, raising his gun—but before he could even aim, a silenced shot echoed in the room, and pain exploded in his shoulder. His hand went limp, the gun clattering to the floor.

His new ruler stepped forward, picking up the weapon and examining it with mild interest before tossing it aside.

"You built an empire on fear, Carmine," he said, voice calm, calculated. "But fear is a tool. It only works when you control it. Tonight, I take that control from you."

Falcone gasped through the pain. "You think you can—"

Another shot. This time, to the leg.

"You don't understand yet," he continued, crouching down to meet Falcone's terrified gaze. "You have no future. No negotiations. No second chances. Gotham belongs to me now."

Falcone's breath hitched, realization sinking in. There was no bargaining here, no plea that would change his fate. He had been erased from power before he even knew who his enemy was.

"You… you're a dead man," he rasped. "You take me out, the city—"

"The city already belongs to me."

The last thing Carmine Falcone saw was the barrel of the gun pressing against his forehead.

The silencer whispered one final time.

And with that, Gotham's underworld had a new ruler.

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