Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 431: Face-Swiping Tour

Cobblepot dragged his bum leg, hobbling fast from behind his desk, yanking his crumpled goon up by the collar.

"What'd you idiots do to him?!"

"Boss! I swear, we didn't do a thing!" The goon wailed, face a mess—seeing Batman stroll through the front door, his first move was to bolt.

Batman's way scarier now than he used to be.

Cobblepot unleashed a flurry of slaps, puffing the guy's face up plenty.

"Bull! You must've pulled something behind my back! Why else would Batman come for me?!"

"We didn't, Boss, boo-hoo, I swear!"

"Really didn't?" Penguin was a pro at reading folks—this goon didn't have the guts to lie.

Was it just his rotten luck then?

Penguin cinched his belt tighter. If he could, he'd send a goon across the street to buy a chastity belt to strap on.

"Honest, no! Boss, Batman's just sitting in the restaurant right now!"

Cobblepot took a deep breath—years as a mob boss kicked in, cooling him down.

If Batman wanted him nabbed, this office would've been stormed a dozen times by now. Sitting in the restaurant? He's got a job for him.

Penguin didn't care—as long as he stayed intact, he'd polish Batman's suit himself if asked.

"Round up the boys—we're going up to see what Batman's up to!"

He swung back to his desk, grabbing his umbrella cane—his weapon.

Then he rallied his beefy crew, marching loud and proud to the restaurant.

It wasn't the real Batman, of course—that guy's paralyzed from the neck down now.

But Batman'd keep that hush-hush, and Luthor wouldn't blab either—so Gotham's rogues were still in the dark, right?

Why pay when you can eat for free?

With Venom tweaking things a bit, Su Ming could totally 'swipe Batman's face' around Gotham.

He stashed his gear in the sewers under Wayne Tower—even ditched the Icon Armor—just rocking Venom and the Cloak of Levitation, turning into Batman for a Gotham joyride.

First up: food. Where's Gotham's fanciest joint? Penguin's Iceberg Lounge, hands down—city's elite all dine there.

The late-night Iceberg was closed, but locks don't stop him. Channeling Batman's habits, he whipped out some X-Metal, flowed it into the keyhole, and popped the door.

Sure, security caught it—he strutted right under the cameras, plopping into the best seat in the house.

Right by that famous fountain—a giant iceberg-shaped crystal—he sat quiet, waiting for Penguin to show.

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

He'd calculated it: this was Penguin's turf. Busting in and just sitting? With Cobblepot's personality, he'd show his face.

And with a little scare, eight-to-one odds he'd cave, serving him up proper.

Soon, the restaurant lights flared on—even the fountain's colored beams kicked in, water spouting from the iceberg.

Penguin waddled out from the back of the hall.

Still in that goofy suit, limping along, but the getup was crisp, hair slicked perfect—full mob boss swagger.

A pack of bruisers flanked him, clutching all sorts of gear—mostly cold steel. Penguin knew Batman's suit doubled as Kevlar.

But one look at his eyes, and Su Ming clocked it—dude was spooked.

Penguin hid it well, but Deathstroke knew fear too good—a whiff of it, and he could 'sniff' it out.

"Batman!"

Cobblepot kept a safe gap, hollering from afar. No way he'd get close to a brawler like Batman—past beatdowns still made his bones ache just thinking about it.

Su Ming didn't reply, just stared him down blank-faced.

And that rattled Cobblepot more—he swore Batman was scoping his belt, that black-leather freak cooking up some scheme.

"You—what're you doing in my restaurant? I'm a law-abiding businessman now!"

Penguin gripped his umbrella with one hand, the other clutching his belt—like that'd stop a pantsing.

"You know why I'm here."

A low growl echoed through the restaurant.

Not just Penguin—his goons felt a chill whip through too. That voice alone oozed dread—tonight's Batman was darker than ever.

What'd he been through lately?

"I didn't do anything! Whatever you're after, it's got nothing to do with me!"

Penguin threw up a wall fast—he didn't know why Batman was here and didn't wanna find out.

Meanwhile, he mentally cussed out whoever'd pissed Batman off at a time like this.

Batman tapped the table with a finger—the black suit stark against the white cloth. "Tell me—what's this place?"

"This? This is my restaurant." Cobblepot waved his goons to shield him.

"So what am I doing in a restaurant?" Su Ming kept tapping.

"How should I know what you're up to? You're Batman!" Penguin was cracking—this familiar back-and-forth meant Batman was about to snap. "You're not here to eat, are you?"

But Batman didn't flip—he nodded. "Yep, I'm here to eat. And given what you've pulled before, I'm not paying."

Penguin squinted—first instinct screamed fake Batman.

Batman, fully geared, hitting the Iceberg to chow down? No way—Gotham's not that unhinged yet!

"Get him! All of you, on him!"

He barked at his crew to swarm Batman. If it's a poser, he'd make whoever dared punk him regret living.

But when the poser's a fight master like Deathstroke, it's a whole different game.

Every move Batman knew, Su Ming knew too.

Crushing kneecaps head-on, smashing jaws into splinters, snapping both arm bones clean through—

Child's play for him.

Not only did every strike match Batman's style dead-on, even the cape-whip and batarang tosses were spot-perfect.

Sure, his 'batarangs' were just Venom's spat-out bits—nobody'd notice them oozing back to merge.

Even after nearly twenty years scrapping with Batman, Cobblepot didn't catch a single flaw.

The habits, the speed, the strength—this was the real Batman!

His suit looked a tad greasy today—probably fresh wax, right?

In under ten seconds, his goons were all down, clutching broken bones, shrieking bloody murder.

Penguin turned to run, but Batman popped from the shadows beside him, clamping his shoulder.

"Where you going?"

"No! Let me go! I really didn't do anything!"

"Yeah, you didn't." Su Ming hoisted him one-handed, dragging him back to the table. "I've been here three minutes and fifteen seconds—no menu yet."

Cobblepot dangled like a ragdoll, mouth gaping, words stuck.

A wild thought hit him—Batman was actually here to eat? Was the world ending?