Malphegor
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PIG Ch. 13
🕑 Added 2025-11-27 04:55:06 +0000 UTCAlvarez walked over with two men, his face completely blank. One was Cuevas, the leather-clad carjacker with shoulders like a linebacker. The other was the chronically unlucky demolition expert, Ian Hagrove.
"Hey, this guy looks like he's about to piss himself." Darnell waved at Hagrove. His expression was hard to read, but legs wouldn't stop shaking.
"Pull yourself together. Don't screw anything up." Marco reached out and checked Cuevas' pulse. Normal enough. He signed the transfer paperwork, and Alvarez looked like someone had just lifted a piano off his back. Without even stopping to breathe, the officer sprinted back to his desk.
"That guy really loves his job, huh?"
"Or maybe he's busy checking out porn on his phone."
Marco and Darnell exchanged a grin and prepared to escort the prisoners to the parking lot, only to see three men striding through the precinct lobby toward them.
Leading the group was a short man with a hooked nose, holding a black umbrella. An oversized gray suit hung loosely from his thin frame. Black bow tie, damp hair plastered to his forehead, sickly pale skin, and a limp that made him look like a bent tree swaying in the wind. His face wore a smile that was warm, polite, almost obsequious, but his eyes were sharp as ice picks, quickly sweeping across everyone in the room.
"Good afternoon, officers." The short man spoke. "I am Oswald Cobblepot. Mr. Falcone has heard that you are transporting these two gentlemen back to the East End, and he is deeply concerned for their safety. He specifically instructed me to bring some men to assist you in this... important escort mission."
He bowed stiffly, almost theatrically.
Marco's stomach dropped. Even if he wasn't a comic book expert, he knew exactly who this was. The Penguin. Future underworld emperor. Maybe unimpressive now, but once he put on the weight and the power, he'd be terrifying.
"Uh... Mr. Cobblepot, we appreciate Mr. Falcone's concern. But prisoner escort is the duty of the Gotham Police. We have proper procedures in place."
He wasn't surprised that Falcone sent people. After all, this touched the Roman's reputation. But actually transporting prisoners alongside the mob? That was a stain waiting to be used against him someday.
"Of course, of course, officer." Cobblepot's smile grew even more sincere. "We fully respect your procedures. We are merely... providing some additional protection to ensure there are no unfortunate 'accidents' on the way. We'll follow behind you and never interfere with your law enforcement. I'll wait outside."
He waved, and his two bodyguards, jackets bulging suspiciously at the ribs, followed him out of the lobby.
Marco exhaled. He was about to call Darnell to leave when he realized his partner was frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.
"Hey... hey!"
His voice came out a bit too loud, drawing attention from nearby officers. Darnell snapped out of it, gave Marco a long, hard look, then shook his head.
"Let's go."
They pushed the prisoners outside and found three Toyota Crowns lined up neatly in the parking lot, each one filled with armed men. Darnell secured the prisoners in the back of the van, locked the restraints, then climbed into the passenger seat. The moment Marco got in, Darnell grabbed him by the collar and growled in a low voice, "What the fuck is going on? Why are Falcone's people involved?!"
"Because those four guys were sent by Mooney to kidnap Hagrove and blow up the Roman's vault. Now Falcone wants his witness back so he can clean house." Marco jerked his thumb toward the cargo compartment. "Relax. Bob said nobody beats Falcone. We're betting on the right side."
"She actually tried to rob him?" Darnell's eyes went wide. "No wonder everyone says that woman's insane." He finally exhaled, loosening Marco's collar and tugging at his shirt awkwardly. "No offense. Just hearing Falcone's name makes me nervous. I'll buy you a drink later."
"Don't get too relaxed. Mooney isn't the type to give up that easily. You and Bob both said she's crazy." Marco glanced outside, three Toyota Crowns sat idling, ready to move. "Otherwise, why would the Roman go this big?"
"Don't worry. My guess is he wants that witness back so he can hold some 'public and fair family trial' in front of everyone. Europeans love that theatrical bullshit." Darnell leaned back, stretching. "Actually, she's not crazy, she's spoiled. She thinks she deserves anything she wants. But now she'll either surrender or run. Otherwise she's dead."
Reality seemed to match his prediction.
The trip back to the East End precinct was unexpectedly calm. Marco drove the Chevy G20 van in front, with Darnell in the passenger seat, eyes constantly scanning the roadside and mirrors. Cobblepot's cars followed leisurely behind, keeping about thirty meters of distance.
No cars ambushed them. Just the gray sky of Gotham, decaying streets, and numb pedestrians shuffling along the sidewalks. The engine rumble and tires on pavement blended into a monotonous hum that made you want to close your eyes.
Eventually, the slightly shabby East End precinct building appeared. Marco turned into the back lot, and Cobblepot's convoy followed.
Bob was already waiting, looking displeased. Several trusted officers moved forward to escort the prisoners out. Cobblepot limped forward on his umbrella, still wearing that humble, ingratiating smile.
"Captain McGinnis, thank you for having your officers deliver these gentlemen safely. Now, please turn them over to me. Mr. Falcone is expecting them."
Bob chewed his cigar, thought for a moment, then waved his men to release the prisoners. Losing them from the East End precinct would be embarrassing, but it was part of the agreement with HQ, and he'd already made more than enough on this deal. No point fighting over paperwork later.
The two terrified prisoners were shoved toward the waiting car. Penguin stepped up, leaned in close, and whispered something into their ears. Their expressions changed several times before finally calming down.
"Damn, this guy really knows how to work people." Marco muttered, nudging Darnell. "You were right. Mooney didn't even try. I thought a spoiled woman would be harder to handle."
"What else? She's not suicidal. If it were just the two of us, maybe she'd try something. But attacking the Roman's convoy?" Darnell rubbed his hands together. "Pour me some tea. Not gonna lie, this was the easiest few grand I ever made."
"Don't even say that! Damn it, every time you open your mouth I get a bad feeling!"
Marco watched as Cobblepot walked back toward Bob. The two spoke for a moment. Bob kept shaking his head. Cobblepot's smile didn't change, but he bowed even lower, pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and handed it over. Bob accepted it with extreme respect, said a few words, hung up, looked around nervously, and then started walking toward Marco.
"We're screwed."
Darnell stared at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Cobblepot's representing the Roman. Only three things could make Bob refuse Falcone, his life, his wallet, or a scapegoat. Falcone wouldn't kill him or drain his bank account, so he's planning to throw us under the bus." Marco took a deep breath as Bob approached with open arms and a big smile.
"Boys, you did great. I just want to say—"
"Don't hug me. Your clothes are covered in ash. If there's nothing else, we'll head back to the office."
"Ah... haha, no problem, everything's fine." Bob leaned in and whispered, "The Roman wants us to send men to escort them to the family estate on the Upper West Side."
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Marco's lips twitched as he looked Bob up and down. "Police openly giving luxury armed escort to the mob? If you want to go down in history as an idiot, knock yourself out, but leave me out of it."
"Hey, it's not that serious. I've already worked it out. I'll assign you a patrol route. You follow behind, both sides separate and non-interfering. Besides, your van doesn't even have GCPD markings." Bob wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. "Jesus, that bastard actually made me talk directly to Falcone... I honestly didn't have the courage to refuse."
"Fuck! That makes us the scout meat on the chopping block!" Darnell rushed over. "You agreed to it, you go!"
"Hey, you can't do that." Bob's face turned pale from the cold wind as he looked up at them. "We already agreed on a price."
"That was the price for bringing them back from HQ. That job is done." Darnell sneered. "And you haven't even paid yet!"
"I'll pay, I'll pay..."
Bob muttered like a madman, blew out a thick smoke ring, then turned to Marco.
"If this goes wrong, we're all finished. Think of Turner, I don't want to die silently in some alley, and I'm sure you don't either, right?"
"You're right." Marco nodded. "But the risk is too high and the payoff is too small. So..." He lowered his head, staring hard at Bob.
"More money."
Bob's face went from pale to brown in a heartbeat. Marco half-expected his blood pressure to rocket through his skull.
"Keep dreaming! We already agreed on a price! No professionalism from you... What? No cash?"
Bob's swearing stopped mid-sentence. His eyes darted sideways.
"What do you want then?"
"Promotion. Authority to form an independent four-to-six-man squad or task unit. Independent application rights for weapons and equipment. And... some other things I haven't thought of yet." Marco ticked them off on his fingers. "And you won't lose out. When we get benefits later, your share won't be missing."
"That's not so bad. Your promotion to Senior Patrol Officer is already approved. Making Detective isn't hard, just pass next month's precinct exam. But Sergeant... you're too new. Minimum one year of service." Bob thought aloud, smoke puffing from his nostrils. "The rest is doable... Are you planning to stir up big trouble?"
"Think of how much you've already won at the negotiation table. If you want to win more next time, we need more leverage." Marco leaned in and whispered. "If Falcone thinks we're worthless, he won't bother paying much to reward or recruit us."
"Damn it, why is it that every time I feel like you're making sense." Bob nodded. "Fine. When you get back—"
"If I come back alive." Marco cut him off before he could jinx it. "Right now I need to go talk to that Cobblepot."
