Falcone Estate, Midday
The Falcone estate stood on the outskirts of Gotham City, its imposing wrought-iron gates and manicured grounds suggesting old-world wealth and permanence. Behind the carefully maintained facade of legitimate fortune, the mansion served as the command center for the family's vast criminal enterprise—an operation that had tentacles reaching into every aspect of Gotham's economy, from the docks to city hall.
In the estate's private study, Alberto Falcone paced before the windows overlooking the grounds, his tailored suit unable to conceal the tension running through his lean frame. His fingers drummed against the crystal tumbler of single malt scotch he'd barely touched, his mind racing with calculations and contingencies following the previous night's setbacks.
"You're wearing a path in the carpet, Alberto," Carmine Falcone observed from his position in a high-backed leather chair beside the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the day, a small fire burned in the grate—a concession to the elder Falcone's perpetually cold hands, a circulation issue no specialist had been able to resolve. "Three generations of our family have walked on that Aubusson. I'd prefer it last for a fourth."
Alberto ceased his pacing, turning to face his father. At seventy-three, Carmine Falcone remained an imposing figure despite his diminished physical presence. His silver hair was immaculately styled, his suit hand-tailored to conceal the weight he'd lost during his recent legal troubles. But his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes that had overseen decades of criminal enterprise—remained as sharp as ever.
"Copperhead was captured," Alberto said, dispensing with preamble. "Batman intervened at the safe house before she could secure Dawes."
Carmine's expression remained impassive, though his fingers tightened slightly around the ivory head of his walking stick. "And Judge Hargrove?"
"Successfully evacuated by Gordon's people. She remains beyond our reach for the moment."
"I see." Carmine took a measured sip of his espresso, the delicate cup looking almost comically small in his weathered hands. "And what of Batman himself? Your toxin specialist assured you her compound would incapacitate him."
A thin smile spread across Alberto's face. "On that front, we have better news. The compound worked precisely as designed. Our sources at Gotham General report no Batman sightings since last night, and the distinctive sounds of his vehicle were tracked heading away from the city center at approximately two AM, moving erratically. The toxin appears to have compromised his system significantly."
"'Appears to' is not confirmation," Carmine pointed out. "Batman has shown remarkable resilience in the past. Until I see his body, I consider him operational, if diminished."
The rebuke was mild but clear. Alberto fought to keep his expression neutral despite his irritation. Even now, with his father's empire crumbling around him, with his own trial days away, Carmine insisted on questioning every assessment, challenging every conclusion. Never a simple acknowledgment of Alberto's successes, only pointed remarks about potential oversights.
"Our contacts within GCPD confirm the Bat-signal has remained dark since last night," Alberto countered. "If Gordon isn't calling for him, it's because he knows his vigilante ally is indisposed."
"Or because Gordon is being cautious following Copperhead's capture," Carmine suggested. "The assistant DA's abduction and Batman's intervention will have elevated security protocols throughout law enforcement. Gordon is many things, but never a fool."
Before Alberto could respond, the study door opened to admit a massively built man whose presence seemed to immediately compress the available space in the room. Standing six foot six and weighing well over three hundred pounds of sculpted muscle, Bane moved with surprising grace for someone of his size, his footfalls nearly silent on the expensive carpet. The black mask covering the lower half of his face gave him an almost mythological appearance, like some ancient god of war descended into the modern world.
"Gentlemen," Bane greeted, his accented voice muffled but clear through the mask's ventilation system. His intelligent eyes assessed the room with clinical precision, noting the tension between father and son with detached interest. "I presume you're discussing last night's unfortunate development."
Alberto gestured for Bane to join them, clearly relieved by the interruption. "My father was expressing concerns about Batman's status."
"A prudent caution," Bane acknowledged, declining the offered seat with a slight shake of his head. He preferred to stand, his massive frame positioned with tactical awareness of sightlines to all entrances. "The Detective has proven remarkably adaptable to previous challenges."
Carmine's eyebrows rose slightly at Bane's choice of words. "You speak of him with respect. Unusual among his opponents."
"I respect capability," Bane replied simply. "To underestimate an adversary based on personal animosity is tactical folly. Batman has defeated four high-level operatives in succession. This suggests resources, intelligence, and adaptability beyond ordinary parameters."
Alberto's expression darkened at the reminder of the previous failures. "Copperhead's toxin was specifically engineered for his biology. Our sources confirm it entered his system successfully. No ordinary human could function effectively under its influence."
"Batman is not ordinary," Bane observed. "Neither in equipment nor in training. Though I agree that the compound likely has compromised him temporarily."
Carmine studied the masked giant with newfound interest. Unlike the other assassins Alberto had contracted, Bane displayed neither the arrogance of Deadshot, the primal aggression of Kraven, nor the mechanical precision of Taskmaster. There was something more calculated in his assessment, something almost philosophical in his approach.
"You've studied him," Carmine noted.
"Extensively," Bane confirmed. "As I study all worthy opponents. His methodology, his equipment, his psychological profile—all provide insights into potential vulnerabilities."
"And what vulnerabilities have you identified?" Carmine asked, genuine curiosity entering his tone.
Bane seemed to consider the question carefully before responding. "His greatest strength is also his critical weakness. Batman has constructed himself as a symbol of fear, a phantom that strikes from darkness. But beneath the symbol exists a man—one who experiences fatigue, who bleeds, who must constantly struggle against human limitation."
The masked man moved toward the fireplace, watching the flames with apparent fascination. "More specifically, his tactical preference for isolated engagement makes him vulnerable to coordinated assault. His reliance on technological advantage can be neutralized with proper countermeasures. And his moral code—particularly his refusal to take life—creates exploitable constraints on his methodology."
"Impressive analysis," Carmine acknowledged. "Though similar observations didn't help your predecessors."
"They faced him individually, each testing single aspects of his capabilities," Bane replied without taking offense. "My approach will be more... comprehensive."
Alberto glanced at his watch impatiently. "Speaking of approaches, Pierce should be calling any moment. We need to finalize tonight's operation before—"
The secure phone on Carmine's desk rang, cutting off Alberto's statement. The younger Falcone moved to answer it, placing the call on speaker.
"Mr. Pierce," Alberto greeted, his tone shifting to something more deferential than he'd used with his father. "You're on speaker with myself, my father, and our associate."
"I assume by 'associate' you mean Bane," Alexander Pierce's voice emerged from the speaker, crisp and authoritative despite the distance. "I'm pleased he's participating in our discussion. His perspective will be valuable."
Carmine's expression remained neutral, though a flicker of distaste crossed his features at Pierce's easy familiarity with their operation. The elder Falcone had always maintained rigid protocols about discussing business, particularly over any form of communication technology. That his son had so readily abandoned these principles was yet another sign of the generational divide in their approaches.
"I understand there were complications last night," Pierce continued. "Copperhead's capture is unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected given her impetuosity."
"Her strategy was sound," Bane countered, surprising both Falcones with his defense of the captured assassin. "The execution was compromised by external factors—specifically, the intervention of another enhanced operative assisting Batman."
There was a momentary silence on the line. "Another enhanced operative?" Pierce's voice had lost some of its smoothness. "Elaborate."
"A woman from the League of Shadows," Alberto supplied, shooting Bane an irritated look for introducing this complication. "She apparently intercepted Deathstroke during his phase of the operation and later assisted Batman against Copperhead."
"Ra's al Ghul is involving himself in Gotham matters?" Pierce's tone conveyed carefully controlled alarm. "That's an unexpected variable."
"Not Ra's directly," Bane clarified. "From Deathstroke's report, it was Talia al Ghul operating independently. Her involvement appears limited to personal protection of Batman rather than broader League interests in our operation."
"That's a critical distinction," Pierce acknowledged, audible relief in his voice. "Ra's views our work as a corruption of natural order. Open conflict with the League would be... counterproductive at this stage."
Carmine leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued by this exchange. "I was under the impression that this Alexander Pierce represented legitimate government interests," he remarked, his tone deceptively casual. "Why would a SHIELD official concern himself with the reaction of a supposedly mythical organization of assassins?"
An uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Alberto shot his father a warning look, but Carmine's gaze remained fixed on the phone, his expression implacable.
"Your father has an incisive mind, Alberto," Pierce said finally, his voice tinged with something like amusement. "You're right to question, Mr. Falcone. My official position provides certain resources and intelligence, but my personal interests extend beyond SHIELD's limited vision. The same could be said for your son's ambitions compared to your own carefully maintained territory."
Carmine's expression hardened. "My 'territory,' as you call it, has stood for three generations. Built methodically, protected carefully. Not endangered by hasty alliances with outside interests."
"Father—" Alberto began, but Pierce interrupted.
"No, it's a fair criticism, Alberto. Your father built something remarkable—a criminal empire that functioned with the precision and stability of a Fortune 500 company. But the world is changing, Mr. Falcone. The emergence of enhanced individuals, advanced technologies, extraterrestrial awareness—these factors have irrevocably altered the landscape in which operations like yours exist."
Pierce's voice took on an almost professorial quality. "The old methods—territorial control, political corruption, strategic violence—remain useful but insufficient. The future belongs to those who adapt to these new realities. Alberto recognizes this. The question is whether you're willing to evolve or if you'll cling to methodologies that are rapidly becoming obsolete."
Carmine's knuckles whitened around his walking stick, but his voice remained steady. "I've heard similar pronouncements of my impending irrelevance for decades, Mr. Pierce. Yet here I sit, while younger, more 'visionary' competitors feed the fishes in Gotham Harbor."
"A fair point," Pierce conceded. "Longevity demands respect. But consider this: without our intervention, your trial would proceed next week with enough evidence to ensure conviction despite your considerable influence. Alberto's initiative in partnering with my organization is the only reason you still have a chance at avoiding life imprisonment."
"About that," Alberto interjected, eager to move the conversation to more practical matters. "Bane's operation tonight will eliminate the remaining physical evidence at GCPD headquarters. Once those files are destroyed, the prosecution's case loses its documentary foundation."
"And Gordon?" Pierce asked. "The commissioner remains a significant obstacle regardless of physical evidence."
"Gordon will be neutralized during tonight's operation," Bane stated, his confidence absolute. "Permanently or temporarily, depending on Mr. Falcone's preference."
All eyes turned to Carmine, whose expression had grown contemplative. Despite his conflicts with Alberto's methods, the elder Falcone was not above harsh measures when necessary. Gordon had been a thorn in his side for decades, one of the few incorruptible figures in Gotham's law enforcement.
"Permanently creates martyrs," Carmine said finally. "Temporarily creates caution. Ensure the commissioner understands the consequences of continued pursuit, but leave him breathing."
Alberto nodded, clearly relieved that his father was at least partially engaging with the operational planning. "Bane will lead a team into GCPD headquarters tonight. The primary objective is destruction of evidence in the secure storage facility. Secondary objectives include accessing the digital case files on the internal network and delivering a message to Gordon."
"And what of Batman?" Pierce asked. "Assuming Copperhead's toxin has indeed incapacitated him, tonight presents an opportunity to secure him as well."
"My team will be prepared for his potential intervention," Bane assured them. "Though I assess the probability as low given the compound's effects. If he does appear, capturing him alive becomes the priority target, superseding even the evidence destruction."
Pierce's interest was palpable even through the phone line. "Excellent. The data we could extract from studying him would be invaluable to the next phase of our program."
"Speaking of which," Alberto said, moving toward a secure cabinet in the corner of the study, "I've prepared the documentation you requested on potential recruitment channels for test subjects." He withdrew a thick folder and placed it on Carmine's desk. "These individuals meet your specified parameters—physical capability, psychological profile, and social disposability."
"Social disposability?" Carmine repeated, distaste evident in his tone.
"Individuals whose disappearance would not trigger significant investigation," Bane translated, his voice neutral despite the implications. "Primarily former military without family connections, competitive athletes with histories of substance abuse, and private security contractors with questionable backgrounds."
"The next phase requires human testing on a larger scale than our previous operations," Pierce explained. "The enhancements we've developed based on data from Deathstroke, Taskmaster, and the Venom program need to be validated across diverse physiological profiles."
Carmine's expression darkened further. "So you're expanding from individual assassins to what—an army?"
"A specialized force," Pierce corrected smoothly. "Precision instruments rather than blunt weapons. The modern world faces threats beyond conventional military capability. What we're developing is a proportional response to those threats."
"While providing you with personally loyal enhanced operatives outside normal governmental oversight," Carmine observed, his tone making clear his opinion of such arrangements.
"A pragmatic insurance policy," Pierce acknowledged without apology. "The kind of contingency planning that kept your organization functioning through three decades of shifting political landscapes."
Alberto cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the tension between his father and Pierce. "The list contains fifty initial candidates. We can begin acquisition protocols immediately following the GCPD operation, assuming you approve."
"Fifty is insufficient," Pierce replied. "The failure rate on the current serum variations remains high. We'll need at least two hundred subjects to ensure statistical validity across the testing protocols."
"Two hundred disappearances would attract attention, even in Gotham," Carmine pointed out.
"Not if properly distributed across demographics and timeframes," Bane countered. "The Santa Prisca program successfully processed over three hundred subjects during its operational phase. With proper methodology, the extraction patterns remain below investigative thresholds."
Alberto nodded. "We can expand recruitment through our connections in Hub City and Blüdhaven. Both locations have suitable populations with minimal oversight."
"Good," Pierce approved. "I'll have my team prepare the processing facility on Ryker's Island. The isolated wing we've secured can handle batches of twenty subjects at a time."
"And our compensation for this expanded recruitment?" Alberto asked, ignoring his father's look of disgust.
"As agreed, the Falcone organization receives exclusive distribution rights for the stabilized Venom compound once testing is complete," Pierce confirmed. "Additionally, you'll receive ten enhanced operatives from the successful candidates, programmed for loyalty to your organization."
"Programmed?" Carmine's eyebrows rose. "Like machines?"
"Behavioral conditioning is a more accurate term," Bane clarified. "Similar to military indoctrination but more neurologically targeted. The subjects retain their skills and intelligence while developing unbreakable loyalty to designated command figures."
Alberto seemed pleased with the arrangement, but Carmine's expression had grown increasingly troubled. He had overseen countless illegal operations in his decades as head of the Falcone family—drug trafficking, arms dealing, human trafficking, political corruption—but there had always been clear boundaries to his enterprise. What Pierce was describing moved beyond crime into something that felt disturbingly close to supervillainy, the kind of operation that attracted not just law enforcement but costumed vigilantes and government-sanctioned enhanced responders.
"What is the ultimate purpose of this enhanced force?" Carmine asked directly. "Beyond the ten operatives promised to my son."
The hesitation on Pierce's end was barely perceptible but telling. "Let's call it preparation for a shifting global paradigm. The emergence of individuals like Iron Man, Batman, and Superman has fundamentally altered the balance of power. Traditional nation-states and their militaries will soon be secondary to the influence of enhanced individuals and the organizations that control them."
"You're building a private army to challenge these freaks," Carmine concluded, his voice flat.
"I'm ensuring that humanity's future isn't determined solely by a handful of enhanced individuals operating without accountability," Pierce corrected. "The Project Insight initiative I've developed within SHIELD addresses this through technological means. What we're discussing provides the necessary human component."
"Project Insight?" The name was clearly new to Alberto, who shot an alarmed look at Bane. The massive man gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, indicating this wasn't the time to reveal ignorance.
"A discussion for another time," Pierce deflected smoothly. "For now, our focus remains on tonight's operation and the expanded recruitment protocols. Do we have agreement on proceeding?"
Alberto looked to his father, a silent request for final approval. Despite their differences, he still recognized Carmine's authority within the family structure, particularly for an expansion of this magnitude.
Carmine remained silent for a long moment, weighing decades of criminal experience against the uncomfortable future Pierce was describing. Finally, he gave a single, curt nod.
"We proceed," Alberto confirmed for Pierce's benefit. "Bane will oversee the GCPD operation personally. I'll expand the recruitment list to two hundred candidates and begin extraction planning."
"Excellent," Pierce sounded genuinely pleased. "I'll have additional resources transferred to the offshore accounts we established. Five million now, fifteen more upon successful completion of tonight's operation."
After a few more minutes of operational details, the call ended, leaving the three men in contemplative silence. Carmine was the first to speak, his voice carrying an edge that had been absent during the call.
"You've permitted this man extraordinary access to our organization, Alberto," he observed. "Far beyond any outside alliance I ever authorized."
"The returns justify the access," Alberto defended. "Twenty million for a single operation, enhanced personnel for future enforcement, and exclusive distribution rights for a compound that will revolutionize our narcotics business."
"And in exchange, we provide human beings for experimentation," Carmine noted. "Moving from criminal enterprise to active atrocity. Have you considered the response this will provoke? Not just from law enforcement but from the very enhanced individuals Pierce seems so concerned about?"
"We're insulated by layers of cutouts and shell companies," Alberto dismissed. "Nothing connects back to the Falcone name directly."
"Nothing connected the Red Hood Gang to their financial backers either," Carmine reminded him, referencing one of Gotham's most notorious criminal organizations from decades past. "Until Batman dismantled their entire operation in a single night, exposing connections no one believed could be traced."
Bane, who had been listening silently to the exchange, finally spoke. "Your father's caution has merit, Alberto. Pierce's ambitions extend further than he has revealed. Project Insight is not merely a SHIELD initiative—it represents a fundamental restructuring of global power dynamics."
Alberto looked at Bane with surprise. "You know about this Project Insight?"
"I make it my business to understand the motivations of those who would employ me," Bane replied. "Pierce envisions a world under the control of his organization—HYDRA, not SHIELD. They have infiltrated governments, military establishments, and scientific institutions worldwide over decades. Project Insight represents the culmination of this infiltration—a satellite weapons system capable of eliminating twenty million threats simultaneously."
"Twenty million?" Carmine's usual composure cracked slightly. "That's not a security system. That's genocide."
"Precisely," Bane confirmed. "Though Pierce would call it necessary pruning of threats to humanity's orderly development. The enhanced forces he's creating through our assistance are meant to maintain control after Insight's initial purge."
Alberto seemed genuinely disturbed by this revelation. "You knew this and still agreed to work with him?"
"I agreed to work with you," Bane corrected. "My contract is with the Falcone organization, not with Alexander Pierce. My concern is fulfilling the terms of our agreement—eliminating evidence against your father and removing Batman from the equation."
"And after that?" Carmine asked, studying the masked giant with new intensity.
"After that, I return to Santa Prisca with my payment, as agreed." Bane's eyes suggested something close to amusement. "What becomes of Pierce's grand vision is not my concern, though I suspect it will face more significant opposition than he anticipates."
Alberto poured himself another scotch, his hand noticeably less steady than earlier. "You're suggesting we're allied with someone planning a global purge of 'undesirables' through orbital weapons platforms."
"I'm stating it directly," Bane confirmed. "Though the timeline for Project Insight extends approximately four years into the future. Pierce requires that development window to perfect both the technological and human components of his system."
"Four years," Carmine repeated thoughtfully. "And he promised immunity for our operations when this purge occurs?"
Alberto nodded. "Control of Gotham under HYDRA's greater authority. Essential criminal operations maintained with enhanced enforcement capability."
Carmine's expression shifted to something Alberto had rarely seen—a cold, calculating anger that had made the elder Falcone legendary among Gotham's criminal element. "So he offers us a privileged position as administrators of our own prison. How generous."
"Father—"
"Be quiet, Alberto." Carmine's voice cut like a blade. "You've entangled our family with genocidal fanatics, compromised our operational security, and expanded beyond our sustainable territory. All for promises from a man who clearly views us as disposable assets in his larger game."
Bane watched the exchange with evident interest, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "What would you suggest, Mr. Falcone? The alliance is established. The operations in motion."
Carmine rose from his chair, leaning on his walking stick but somehow projecting more authority than he had in months. "We proceed as planned with tonight's operation. The evidence against me must be destroyed regardless of these other considerations. Batman must be neutralized as a threat to our immediate interests."
He moved toward the windows, looking out over the estate grounds with the air of a general surveying a battlefield. "But we begin extracting ourselves from Pierce's long-term plans. Carefully, methodically, without alerting him to our shift in allegiance."
"And the human subjects?" Bane asked.
"Provide the list as promised, but ensure it contains individuals Pierce would find challenging to control when enhanced. Former special forces with strong ethical codes. Competitive athletes with public profiles that would be difficult to disappear completely. Make his project problematic from within."
Alberto stared at his father with newfound respect. The strategic mind that had built the Falcone empire was still very much intact, despite Carmine's physical decline.
"You're undermining Pierce while appearing to cooperate," Alberto realized. "Creating future leverage."
"I'm ensuring our family's survival," Carmine corrected. "Something you should have considered before forming this alliance. The Falcones have persisted in Gotham for generations because we understand our place in the ecosystem. We are predators, yes, but not exterminators. The city sustains us precisely because we allow it to sustain itself."
He turned to Bane, his expression deadly serious. "Tonight's operation proceeds as planned. But I want Gordon alive and relatively unharmed. He represents potential insurance should Pierce's plans accelerate."
Bane nodded, seemingly impressed by the elder Falcone's strategic thinking. "A prudent adjustment. The commissioner's connections extend beyond Gotham to federal agencies that might prove useful counterweights to HYDRA's influence."
"And Batman?" Alberto asked.
"Capture if possible, as Pierce requests," Carmine decided after a moment's consideration. "But prioritize your own operational security. Batman's enhanced allies remain an unknown factor, particularly this League woman who intervened last night."
"Talia al Ghul," Bane supplied. "Daughter of Ra's, heir to the Demon's Head. Her involvement suggests the Detective has connections we hadn't fully appreciated."
"The Detective?" Carmine repeated, curiosity evident in his tone.
"A term of respect used within the League for Batman," Bane explained. "A recognition of his investigative abilities rather than merely his combat skills."
Alberto checked his watch impatiently. "We should finalize the operational details for tonight. The GCPD shifts change at eight, creating a thirty-minute window of reduced security during handover protocols."
Bane nodded, moving toward the large table where architectural plans of the police headquarters had been spread out. "I've identified three primary entry points with minimal electronic surveillance. My team will move in coordinated waves—first disabling external communications, then securing the evidence storage facility, and finally accessing the commissioner's office."
As Bane detailed the tactical approach, Carmine watched his son transform from the uncertain, defensive young man of their earlier conversation into a focused criminal strategist. However misguided Alberto's alliance with Pierce might be, the boy clearly possessed the Falcone talent for operational planning. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
The meeting continued for another hour, with Bane outlining contingency plans for various scenarios—including potential intervention by Batman despite his presumed incapacitation. The masked giant's tactical brilliance was evident in every detail, from personnel positioning to evacuation routes.
As they concluded, Carmine found himself reassessing Bane in light of their conversation. Unlike the other assassins Alberto had contracted, this man represented something beyond mere mercenary talent. There was philosophical depth behind his methodologies, strategic vision beyond immediate objectives.
"You've prepared thoroughly," Carmine acknowledged as Bane gathered the tactical diagrams. "I'll be interested to hear your assessment of GCPD's security measures afterward. Our previous infiltration attempts have encountered unexpected resistance."
"Gordon has implemented several unconventional protocols," Bane confirmed. "Likely influenced by his association with Batman. But every system has vulnerabilities if approached correctly." He rolled up the building plans, securing them in a reinforced tube. "By this time tomorrow, the evidence against you will be destroyed, and the commissioner will understand the cost of further pursuit."
"And Batman?" Alberto pressed.
Bane's eyes revealed something close to anticipation above his black mask. "If he appears, despite Copperhead's toxin, then he will face an opponent unlike any he has encountered before. Not merely enhanced strength, but tactical preparation specifically designed to counter his methodologies."
"You sound almost hopeful that he'll intervene," Carmine observed.
"I respect worthy adversaries," Bane replied simply. "And from everything I've studied, the Detective represents the pinnacle of human capability without enhancement. Testing myself against such an opponent has... intellectual appeal."
With that enigmatic statement, Bane departed, leaving father and son alone in the study. The tension between them had not disappeared, but it had transformed into something more complex—mutual recognition of the dangerous game they were now playing, not just with Gotham's law enforcement but with forces that operated on a global scale.
Alberto had barely reached the door when his father's voice stopped him cold.
"One more thing, Alberto." Carmine's tone had changed, the temporary reconciliation evaporating like morning mist. "Once this operation is complete, once my legal troubles are resolved, we need to discuss your future within the family."
Alberto turned slowly, recognizing the dangerous undercurrent in his father's words. "My future?"
"Your judgment has been questionable at best," Carmine said, his voice deceptively calm. "First the assassins drawing unnecessary attention to our operations. Then this alliance with Pierce and his lunatic global ambitions. The Falcone empire requires leadership that understands restraint."
"Restraint?" Alberto's face flushed with sudden anger. "Your 'restraint' is why we've been losing territory to upstarts like Maroni and Cobblepot. Your 'restraint' is why the family is becoming irrelevant in Gotham. Your 'restraint' is why you're facing RICO charges that could end our dynasty forever."
Carmine's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch yourself, boy. You speak to the head of this family."
"I speak to a relic," Alberto shot back, years of resentment bubbling to the surface. "A man so committed to outdated methods that he can't see the world changing around him. Enhanced individuals, alien technology, government conspiracies—this is the landscape we navigate now, not your prohibition-era turf wars and payoffs to beat cops."
"You think I don't understand the changing landscape?" Carmine rose from his chair, still imposing despite his physical decline. "I've navigated this family through gang wars, federal investigations, economic collapses, and the rise of the costumed freaks. I've maintained our position precisely because I understand what battles to fight and which to avoid."
He moved toward his son with deliberate steps, his walking stick striking the carpet with metronomic precision. "Pierce isn't offering partnership, Alberto. He's offering subjugation wrapped in promises of power. You've handed him leverage over our entire operation, compromised our independence, and exposed us to scrutiny from forces far beyond Gotham's borders."
"I've secured our future," Alberto insisted, standing his ground. "When Project Insight launches, when the world order reshapes, we'll be positioned among the survivors, not the targets."
"You believe that?" Carmine laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "A man planning to eliminate twenty million 'threats' with orbital weapons will honor his agreement with a crime family? Pierce sees us as useful idiots, nothing more."
"And how does Batman see us?" Alberto countered. "As obstacles to be systematically dismantled. At least Pierce recognizes our value."
"Batman operates within predictable parameters," Carmine said dismissively. "His morality, his methods—we've adapted to them for years. Pierce represents something infinitely more dangerous."
"You've adapted to Batman?" Alberto's voice rose incredulously. "Is that why you're facing life imprisonment? Why our operations have been compromised across the city? Why our most reliable captains are turning state's evidence? He's dismantling everything you built, and you're too blind or too stubborn to acknowledge it!"
Carmine's face hardened into the expression that had terrorized Gotham's underworld for decades. "Mind your tone, Alberto. I remain head of this family."
"For how long?" The question hung in the air like a thrown gauntlet. "The trial begins in days. Without my initiative, without the agreements I've made, you'd be finished. And after? How long before your 'caution' leads us to irrelevance?"
Carmine studied his son, truly seeing him perhaps for the first time. Not as the Harvard-educated heir he'd groomed, but as a fundamental threat to everything the Falcone name represented.
"You sound like Sofia before her delusions overtook her," Carmine said softly, the quiet comparison more devastating than any shouted accusation. "The same hunger for power without understanding its proper application. The same willingness to risk everything for immediate advantage."
Alberto's face drained of color at the mention of his sister. "Don't you dare say that about her. Sofia didn't lose her mind. I'm saving this family."
"Sofia believed the same," Carmine replied. "Before Arkham. Before the medication. Before she became another Gotham tragedy."
"She took the fall for your operations," Alberto snarled, long-suppressed rage finally breaking through his cultivated exterior. "Protecting the family name while I was conveniently studying abroad. Your sacrificial lamb to preserve the dynasty."
Carmine's hand tightened around his walking stick, knuckles whitening. "You know nothing of the arrangements with Sofia. Nothing of the promises made, the protections guaranteed."
"I know you abandoned her to Arkham," Alberto pressed, sensing vulnerability in his father's reaction. "Your own daughter, rotting in that hellhole while you continued business as usual."
"Enough!" Carmine's walking stick struck the floor with enough force to crack the ancient wood. "You've overstepped, Alberto. Questioned my leadership, compromised our operations, and now you presume to judge my actions regarding Sofia? Your sister accepted her role. She understood what family means. You've demonstrated nothing but self-interest disguised as innovation."
Alberto straightened, a cold calm settling over him. "Is that your final assessment? That I'm unworthy of leadership? That my vision for our future is invalid?"
"Your vision ends with us as vassals to megalomaniacs with delusions of global domination," Carmine replied flatly. "Yes, I find that approach unworthy of the Falcone name."
"Then perhaps it's time for new leadership," Alberto said, the implicit threat unmistakable. "After tonight's operation succeeds, after your case collapses without evidence, we'll revisit this conversation from positions of equal authority."
Carmine's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted—the final severance of paternal protection, the acknowledgment of his son as not just disappointment but genuine enemy.
"There is no equality in family leadership, Alberto. There is only succession, earned through demonstrated wisdom." He turned away, a gesture of dismissal more cutting than any verbal attack. "Go oversee your operation. We'll indeed revisit this conversation afterward."
Alberto stood for a moment longer, visibly calculating his next move. But strategic retreat won over emotional response. Without another word, he departed, closing the study door with carefully controlled force.
Alone now, Carmine moved to his desk and unlocked a hidden drawer containing a secure phone—one not connected to the family's regular communication channels. As head of one of the East Coast's most powerful crime families, Carmine maintained relationships with his counterparts in other territories. Relationships built on mutual respect, shared interests, and occasional necessary collaborations.
He dialed a number known to only five people in the world and waited as encryption protocols established a secure connection.
"An unexpected pleasure, Carmine." The deep, cultured voice that answered revealed no surprise despite the unusual contact. Wilson Fisk, known in whispered conversations as the Kingpin of Crime in New York, was not a man easily startled. "To what do I owe this rare communication?"
"Wilson," Carmine greeted, their decades-long acquaintance allowing the familiar address. "I find myself in need of specialized assistance. The kind your organization has occasionally provided when circumstances warranted."
"I see." Fisk's voice conveyed perfect understanding of the request's nature. "Your recent legal troubles have been noted with concern. Is this assistance related to those matters?"
"Tangentially," Carmine replied carefully. "My legal situation is being managed through other channels. This is a more... personal matter requiring particular skills."
The silence on the line spoke volumes—two veterans of organized crime communicating as much through what remained unsaid as through explicit statements.
"Your son's activities have generated discussion in certain circles," Fisk observed finally. "His approach to problem-solving lacks your traditional discretion."
Carmine's mouth tightened. Even in New York, Alberto's recklessness had registered among their peers. "Family disagreements about methodology have reached an impasse requiring external resolution."
"I understand completely," Fisk replied, his tone suggesting genuine sympathy. As a man who had built his own empire from nothing, who enforced iron discipline among his subordinates, he recognized the painful necessity Carmine was describing. "You're asking for Poindexter."
It wasn't a question. Benjamin Poindexter—known professionally as Bullseye—represented the gold standard in precision elimination. Unlike the enhanced assassins Alberto had contracted, Bullseye operated with ruthless efficiency and perfect discretion. No costumes, no gimmicks, no grand entrances—just surgical removal of obstacles with minimal collateral.
"I'm asking for Poindexter," Carmine confirmed. "And I'm prepared to compensate appropriately for his exclusive attention to this matter."
"He's currently concluding an assignment in Chicago," Fisk replied. "I can redirect him to Gotham within twenty-four hours. However, you should know his terms have evolved recently. He now requires creative latitude in execution alongside financial compensation."
"Creative latitude?" Carmine's tone sharpened with concern.
"Nothing that would compromise operational security," Fisk assured him. "Rather, he finds personal satisfaction in addressing high-value targets in ways that demonstrate his... particular talents. The psychological component has become increasingly important to his professional fulfillment."
Carmine considered this information carefully. Professionals with Poindexter's skills often developed eccentricities over time—the cost of consistent excellence in a field that demanded psychological compartmentalization.
"That's acceptable, provided discretion remains paramount," he decided. "The targets represent significant threat vectors requiring immediate neutralization."
"Targets, plural," Fisk noted. "Shall I assume one wears a cape?"
"One wears a cape," Carmine confirmed. "The other believes himself worthy of wearing my mantle."
"I see." Fisk's voice held no judgment, only professional assessment. "Poindexter will find the first target particularly intriguing. He's expressed academic interest in these masked vigilantes—something about the challenge they present."
"The compensation will reflect both the risk and the professional satisfaction," Carmine assured him. "Five million per target, with a three million bonus for completion within seventy-two hours."
"Generous terms," Fisk acknowledged. "I'll contact Poindexter directly after our call. Expect confirmation within the hour."
After finalizing the necessary arrangements, Carmine ended the call and returned the secure phone to its hidden compartment. The decision to move against his own son represented a line crossed from which there could be no return. But the Falcone family had survived for generations precisely because its leaders recognized existential threats and addressed them without sentimentality.
Alberto had become such a threat—his ambition untethered from wisdom, his alliances extending beyond control, his methods attracting attention that threatened the family's very existence. The choice was painful but necessary. Family survival came first. Always.