Lucius Fox stood before The Penguin, his lackadaisical expression betraying nothing. To his left stood the ever beautiful Pamela Isley. And to his right, Harley Quinn watched with a hungry gleam in her eye for carnage and a bat in her right hand to inflict such death.
Behind him stood a row of other Gothamites who were loyal to the city that once existed; the city that was free of corruption and evil practices. The city that Robin once protected. Now, Robin was dead and darkness had truly befallen the great city.
The Penguin regarded him like a cat regards a mouse. But Lucius never showed fear. He only stared back, waiting for whatever would happen next.
“You make weapons don’t you, Mr. Fox?” The Penguin finally asked.
“I do,” he responded.
“You make vehicles don’t you, Mr. Fox?”
“You equipped Batman and the Batwoman with every bit of technology they have, didn’t you Mr. Fox?”
Lucius hesitated. Harley stepped forward. The Penguin raised a hand to stop her, keeping his eye on Lucius.
“Didn’t you, Mr. Fox?” he urged again.
Fox knew if he didn’t answer he would be killed.
“Yes, I did.”
The Penguin smiled. “Good. I need you to outfit my army with the best weapons, the best armor, and the best vehicles.”
“And if I refuse?” Lucius asked.
The Penguin made a motion with his head and there was a scuffling of footsteps. Lucius looked and was legitimately surprised to see Commissioner Lynx, bruised, scratched, and clearly thinner, in the hands of a masked member of The Flock.
“Then the Commissioner will be the next to hang in front of the courthouse,” he said.
Fox couldn’t mask the horror on his face. He looked at The Penguin with a steely expression.
“I’ll help you,” Lucius grumbled.
The Penguin smiled, pressing his fingers together as if in contemplation. “I know you will, Mr. Fox.”