Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 28, 2021 10:09:08 GMT -5
Participants: Oswald Cobblepot | Amon Tomaz
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): The Ruins of Memphethotep, Egypt
Time of Day: High Noon
Weather: Blistering heat
Summary: Gotham aristocracy is met with an almighty prince of Khandaq.
Rolling dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, sweltering heat sashaying a playful dance above sprawling hills of brown and tan. A desolate wasteland blanketed in layers of sand, with but a few gnarled sprawling acacia branches leering crooked and alone amidst sweltering heat. Sandy smoke billowed out from dirty spiraling tires treading desolate brown roads. The hood ornament of a leering silver vulture lead the charge of a grimy caravan barreling across sweltering heat. A pristine vehicle, a 1935 Rolls Royce Phantom II with a convertible roof careened across sand and smoke. Following it were several more rickety and tattered vehicles, many rusted and just barely functional.
The Penguin and his caravan charged through skin burning heat. Oswald sat in the passenger of the Rolls Royce, his girth cloaked in a grey safari jacket with a red ascot tucked within. Greasy black hair billowed in the wind beneath a black smokers cap with a red floral embroidery. He kept his umbrella planted between the legs of black trousers and though he was not accustomed to this sweltering dry heat, he quietly enjoyed the perilous trek. There was a certain occult and paranormal mystique to Egypt, a land once ruled by Gods and Monsters, where warring empires battled for the Nile in a time long since forgotten. It was a bright and warm kingdom, a stark contrast to snowy Gotham. Beside him, driving the vehicle was his head goon. An obese and grizzled fellow from Yorkshire, went by the name of Mercer Beckett. He was a bit more disinterested in this dry wasteland, but it is what it is. He wore a turquoise Hawaiian button up with a pink floral pattern, a straw fedora, khakis, and a simple pair of sneakers. Finally in the backseat were Oswald’s henchgirls, the Kabuki Twins. They were a curious duo of assassins who pledged their loyalty to Penguin during an express in the Orient. Porcelain white masks gave an unmoving pleasant gaze off into distance under black wigs and Turquoise Kimonos with red and white floral patterns.
This particular racket proved to be quite lucrative. After the rampaging beast known as Chemo ransacked Blüdhaven, it left seas upon seas of toxic chemical waste product. The Tucker Cobblepot Foundation, a nonprofit waste cleanup organization, was clearing the city of hazardous material. A noble gesture at first glance, but past the surface level was another of the Penguin’s vile schemes. The Chemo sludge would be cheaply refined and then repurposed into chemical weapons which Cobblepot would then ship off to Qurac, Syria, Quran and other rogue nations for profit. The caravan of trucks behind the Rolls Royce housed the latest shipment of these Chemo Bombs.
A Pyramid leered like an almighty beacon across miles of sand and rock. This was the current destination of Cobblepot and his entourage. It was an archeological dig, funded by Cobblepot as one of many philanthropic works which also served as a checkpoint on their journey to the Middle East. Two birds with one stone as the saying goes. The shipments used to go by sea, but pirates solicited by Intergang proved to be rather irksome... So now it was a flight across the Atlantic and a brief drive across North Africa then into the Middle East. After what felt like an eternity, Penguin’s Rolls Royce pulled in.....
The Ruins of Memphethotep, where sandstone tombs lay nestled in beneath a blanket of sand. The battered remains of long forgotten buildings rose from the dunes, amidst a flock of workers excavating the site, and Egyptian mercenaries standing guard above scattered wooden watchtowers. The pyramid leered above all else at the very center of the forgotten city, with tarps, tipis and tents speckled around the sandstone columns and crypts. Local workers toiled away tirelessly, pickaxes chipping away bits of stone, shovels heaping away mounds of sand, and buckets full of rocks and sandstone carried shoulder to shoulder. Penguin’s Rolls Royce rolled in, and his caravan followed suite. To greet him was acclaimed German archeologist Dr. Dietrich Von Vogel, a shrewd man with greying blonde hair and dull blue eyes. Black boots stood before the car’s passenger door, rising up to tan khakis with a brown belt, a tan button up with a brown vest, and a turquoise scarf. ”Guten Tag, Herr Pinguin.”
Oswald stepped out with a jovial greeting “Doctor Von Vogel! How perfectly marvelous, it’s good to see you again.” The caravan of Chemo bombs rolled in. A few of the workers dropped their pickaxes and shovels and ran off to the tents to refuel Penguin’s trucks. ”Zhe dig goes quite vwell, Herr Cobblepot.” Twin Geishas leapt to the air and landed in two rhythmic thuds behind their master. A cloud of sand smoldered in the sound trounce of their landing and danced along their embroidered kimonos. “Indeed it does~” Penguin admired the surrounding ruins with a glint in his monocle, and Mr. Beckett exited the drivers seat to join the entourage. “May I peruse the pyramid, Doctor?” The entrance was still sealed during Oswald’s last venture, so he was anxious to see the progress thus far. ”Of course. Right zhis vway.” The pyramid, the pharaohs tomb, stunning feats of human achievement which rose high to the sun and crawled deep into the earth. They entered the crypt.
Twisted writhing tunnels descended deep and were dimly lit by battered lanterns. Urns and dead foliage laced the rotting corridors as cobwebs hung like tapestry above the group. Glyphs and symbols were laced along the walls as centipedes and scarabs scuttled away at the sight of the living. Mummified remains lied still in the walls, practically disintegrating from the sands of time. Penguin lightly poked at one of the corpses with the tip of his umbrella, grimly praying they were dead. The permanent kind. Not the kind that walks the halls of his Iceberg Lounge and terrorizes his clientele. One of twin Geisha’s reached out to the chiseled sandstone walls of the tomb, triplet talons scratching across the carvings as Penguin’s entourage made way past sarcophagi of long dead warriors. Cobwebs and insects festered over skeletons and mummified rotting remains. Pottery and ancient baubles littered the floors, half nestled in small mounds of sand. A plastic table was laid out at the center of the crypt, acting as a veritable buffet line of ancient artifacts and pottery. None of which particularly valuable, outside of its historical and antiquated value. Columns laced in hieroglyphics rose high above resting corpses, Von Vogel stood staunch and proud before a leering black door with the dog-like face of Anubis. ”Behold, Herr Cobblepot: Zhe tomb of Memphethotep.....”
Black doors creaked open, revealing a massive tomb with a heavy sandstone coffin at the center. A massive wall at the back depicted blue etchings, and hieroglyphic carvings which described a great and terrible war. Von Vogel went immediately to the wall, but Penguin and Mercer stood mouth agape and utterly tantalized before mounds of stunning treasure. Golden statues of the dog faced Anubis glared over fields of bronze and gold pottery, glistening gemstones and jewels, and chests of treasures. Though caked in dust, sand, and cobwebs, the gems and jewels and treasures all still sparkled and shimmered like starlight. Cobblepot’s monocle fell to his side in disbelief, and Mercer fell to his knees, crawling to a chest of gold and jewels, digging his hands through it all and letting the treasures drip through his fingers like trickling water. ”Blimey...... This s‘why I don’t work f’er T’you-Face.........”
The Kabuki Twins fanned out, dull expressionless masks gazed blankly into stone walls and dunes of valuables, and Penguin stood in a stunned silence, allowing the atmosphere, treasure, the whole room to embrace him. It was magnanimous.... Von Vogel lightly the laid a hand on the blue wall in the back ”Herr Cobblepot if I could direct you’re attention here, please.....” Vogel traced his fingers across hieroglyphic depictions, that which told the story of an opulent pharaoh... A fat king who delighted in silks, treasures, and magics from across the world. A mighty conquerer who sieged many lands, and won many battles. ”But, his opulence and greed led him astray. He coveted zhe riches of a neighboring land. But zhey vwere forces he did not understand.....” When the tyrant attacked his neighbor, they retaliated with horrific magic the likes of which he’d never known. This was the site of his defeat, and his final resting place.
”Ah the despot’s denouement; when an empire is toppled by its own aspirations.” Penguin and the Kabuki Twins stood before Von Vogel amidst his lecture. Mr. Mercer, now bedazzled in jewelry and gems soon joined them. ”Y’hate t’ see it.” Mercer opined with a rather disinterested tone. “Caesar’s Ides of March, Napoleon’s Campaign of Waterloo, Hitler’s Siege at Stalingrad.” Oswald did so love to romanticize the rise and fall of an empire. The art, the glory, the poetic indifference of the cosmos as something so mighty toppled over for sophisticated minds to muse over centuries later.
Penguin and his entourage arose from the tomb back to the surface world above. Blistering heat wafted against the group immediately, cascading them in sweat once more. “Excellent work as always, Monsieur Vogel.” Oswald hummed as his goons scrambled to refuel for the continued journey ahead. ”Of course, Herr Pinguin. But, zhere in lies an issue.... Vwe have blown s’through your donations at a remarkable rate... Zhe dig ist in need of more funding...” This whole operation proved both costly and lucrative. Oswald could’ve just had a desolate checkpoint out in the middle of nowhere, but funding an archeological venture like this heightened his standing amongst socialites and intelligentsia in his home kingdom. Add the treasure uncovered to the mix, and it was a win-win-win. So, more funding was not completely out of the question “A portion of the treasures will have to be sold on the black market for capital. After my cut, of course.” Cobblepot cooed with a delighted tone. ”But.... Zhey belong in a museum!” Dr. Vogel protested, but was met with total silence, and this nonresponse from Penguin said a million words without saying any, all of which Von Vogel did not particularly enjoy. ”As you vwish.” Dietrich resigned to his benefactor with a sigh. It was never easy to acquire funds, and Dr. Vogel was always quite disgusted with himself for this particular arrangement... But, discovery did sometimes mean sacrifice.
The entourage reached Oswald’s Rolls Royce, and Penguin settled himself into the passenger seat. There was this sudden strange tingling in his ear which he couldn’t quite make out, it was like the melodic hum of machinery, but it didn’t sound close. The pharaoh of fowls squinted, using his flipper to shield his eyes to look off into the horizon. A few shapes glistened in the sunlight, but Oswald frankly couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Ernk.... Oh Mister Mercer?” Penguin assumed it was merely a mirage, the sun and blistering heat toying with his mind and eyes. “What is that off in the distance, old boy?” Von Vogel and Mercer both squinted in the glaring sunlight. ”Looks....” He could just barely make out vague amorphous shapes off in the distance. ”Looks like another c’yaravan.” Mercer surmised. Cobblepot reached into his car’s glove box, rattling around a few documents and papers, then pulling out a pair of binoculars. ”Not ours.” Oswald opined with a curious tinge to his voice. The Arctic autocrat of Gotham pressed the binoculars to his dull eyes and did a double-take. “Is that...... Is that a tank?” He lowered the binoculars with a grimace, the Kabuki Twins tensed up as if preparing for conflict. “Surely not........” Cobblepot chuckled out. ”The military p’raps?” Confusion cascaded across them like rushing water, Vogel, Mercer, and Oswald all exchanging bewildered glances. ”Zhe military never combs zhis region.” The shapes in the horizon took the form of vehicles, but Penguin looked away and glanced at Mercer. “No. I paid them off, they’d never poke around here.”
Charles Lafayette was an Intergang crook who fancied himself a gentlemen of crime in a similar vain to Oswald Cobblepot. He fancied himself a rival to Cobblepot, in fact. A sentiment the Penguin did not share. He’d lead a few brief scuffles against the old bird on a few occasions prior, but nothing as grand and glorious as this. A Mark VIII World War I tank veered over the horizon, with Charles at the helm. He was a thin little man with curly grey hair matted under a pith hat helmet with goggles. He too, wore a monocle, in mockery of Penguin’s style and elegance. ”Penguin won’t bloody-well know what hit him, eh boys?” The knock off criminal sneered to his crew of Intergang mercenaries. The tank led the charge, followed by five cars and trucks with armed mooks holding their firearms to the air. Following close behind was a massive truck with a carried load wrapped and concealed in tarp. ”Tallyho, gentlemen!” And with that a blast of tank fire pierced the air and whizzed across scorching heat. ”Get down!” The entourage ducked as an explosion of sand dunes blasted away a group of laborers. Intergang cars charged into the ruins, guns firing wildly as Penguin’s mercenaries desperately scrambled to organize. Another blast of tank fire punctured through the horizon, shredding through a tent and exploding a pair mercenaries away. Gunfire roared like a carnivorous predator from both sides, Intergang cars ran over innocent workers with little care or concern, and mercenaries from both sides spat a hail of gunfire at each other. Another round of tank fire seared through the skies and careened into one of Penguin’s watchtowers, toppling the rickety structure upon itself.
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): The Ruins of Memphethotep, Egypt
Time of Day: High Noon
Weather: Blistering heat
Summary: Gotham aristocracy is met with an almighty prince of Khandaq.
Rolling dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, sweltering heat sashaying a playful dance above sprawling hills of brown and tan. A desolate wasteland blanketed in layers of sand, with but a few gnarled sprawling acacia branches leering crooked and alone amidst sweltering heat. Sandy smoke billowed out from dirty spiraling tires treading desolate brown roads. The hood ornament of a leering silver vulture lead the charge of a grimy caravan barreling across sweltering heat. A pristine vehicle, a 1935 Rolls Royce Phantom II with a convertible roof careened across sand and smoke. Following it were several more rickety and tattered vehicles, many rusted and just barely functional.
The Penguin and his caravan charged through skin burning heat. Oswald sat in the passenger of the Rolls Royce, his girth cloaked in a grey safari jacket with a red ascot tucked within. Greasy black hair billowed in the wind beneath a black smokers cap with a red floral embroidery. He kept his umbrella planted between the legs of black trousers and though he was not accustomed to this sweltering dry heat, he quietly enjoyed the perilous trek. There was a certain occult and paranormal mystique to Egypt, a land once ruled by Gods and Monsters, where warring empires battled for the Nile in a time long since forgotten. It was a bright and warm kingdom, a stark contrast to snowy Gotham. Beside him, driving the vehicle was his head goon. An obese and grizzled fellow from Yorkshire, went by the name of Mercer Beckett. He was a bit more disinterested in this dry wasteland, but it is what it is. He wore a turquoise Hawaiian button up with a pink floral pattern, a straw fedora, khakis, and a simple pair of sneakers. Finally in the backseat were Oswald’s henchgirls, the Kabuki Twins. They were a curious duo of assassins who pledged their loyalty to Penguin during an express in the Orient. Porcelain white masks gave an unmoving pleasant gaze off into distance under black wigs and Turquoise Kimonos with red and white floral patterns.
This particular racket proved to be quite lucrative. After the rampaging beast known as Chemo ransacked Blüdhaven, it left seas upon seas of toxic chemical waste product. The Tucker Cobblepot Foundation, a nonprofit waste cleanup organization, was clearing the city of hazardous material. A noble gesture at first glance, but past the surface level was another of the Penguin’s vile schemes. The Chemo sludge would be cheaply refined and then repurposed into chemical weapons which Cobblepot would then ship off to Qurac, Syria, Quran and other rogue nations for profit. The caravan of trucks behind the Rolls Royce housed the latest shipment of these Chemo Bombs.
A Pyramid leered like an almighty beacon across miles of sand and rock. This was the current destination of Cobblepot and his entourage. It was an archeological dig, funded by Cobblepot as one of many philanthropic works which also served as a checkpoint on their journey to the Middle East. Two birds with one stone as the saying goes. The shipments used to go by sea, but pirates solicited by Intergang proved to be rather irksome... So now it was a flight across the Atlantic and a brief drive across North Africa then into the Middle East. After what felt like an eternity, Penguin’s Rolls Royce pulled in.....
The Ruins of Memphethotep, where sandstone tombs lay nestled in beneath a blanket of sand. The battered remains of long forgotten buildings rose from the dunes, amidst a flock of workers excavating the site, and Egyptian mercenaries standing guard above scattered wooden watchtowers. The pyramid leered above all else at the very center of the forgotten city, with tarps, tipis and tents speckled around the sandstone columns and crypts. Local workers toiled away tirelessly, pickaxes chipping away bits of stone, shovels heaping away mounds of sand, and buckets full of rocks and sandstone carried shoulder to shoulder. Penguin’s Rolls Royce rolled in, and his caravan followed suite. To greet him was acclaimed German archeologist Dr. Dietrich Von Vogel, a shrewd man with greying blonde hair and dull blue eyes. Black boots stood before the car’s passenger door, rising up to tan khakis with a brown belt, a tan button up with a brown vest, and a turquoise scarf. ”Guten Tag, Herr Pinguin.”
Oswald stepped out with a jovial greeting “Doctor Von Vogel! How perfectly marvelous, it’s good to see you again.” The caravan of Chemo bombs rolled in. A few of the workers dropped their pickaxes and shovels and ran off to the tents to refuel Penguin’s trucks. ”Zhe dig goes quite vwell, Herr Cobblepot.” Twin Geishas leapt to the air and landed in two rhythmic thuds behind their master. A cloud of sand smoldered in the sound trounce of their landing and danced along their embroidered kimonos. “Indeed it does~” Penguin admired the surrounding ruins with a glint in his monocle, and Mr. Beckett exited the drivers seat to join the entourage. “May I peruse the pyramid, Doctor?” The entrance was still sealed during Oswald’s last venture, so he was anxious to see the progress thus far. ”Of course. Right zhis vway.” The pyramid, the pharaohs tomb, stunning feats of human achievement which rose high to the sun and crawled deep into the earth. They entered the crypt.
Twisted writhing tunnels descended deep and were dimly lit by battered lanterns. Urns and dead foliage laced the rotting corridors as cobwebs hung like tapestry above the group. Glyphs and symbols were laced along the walls as centipedes and scarabs scuttled away at the sight of the living. Mummified remains lied still in the walls, practically disintegrating from the sands of time. Penguin lightly poked at one of the corpses with the tip of his umbrella, grimly praying they were dead. The permanent kind. Not the kind that walks the halls of his Iceberg Lounge and terrorizes his clientele. One of twin Geisha’s reached out to the chiseled sandstone walls of the tomb, triplet talons scratching across the carvings as Penguin’s entourage made way past sarcophagi of long dead warriors. Cobwebs and insects festered over skeletons and mummified rotting remains. Pottery and ancient baubles littered the floors, half nestled in small mounds of sand. A plastic table was laid out at the center of the crypt, acting as a veritable buffet line of ancient artifacts and pottery. None of which particularly valuable, outside of its historical and antiquated value. Columns laced in hieroglyphics rose high above resting corpses, Von Vogel stood staunch and proud before a leering black door with the dog-like face of Anubis. ”Behold, Herr Cobblepot: Zhe tomb of Memphethotep.....”
Black doors creaked open, revealing a massive tomb with a heavy sandstone coffin at the center. A massive wall at the back depicted blue etchings, and hieroglyphic carvings which described a great and terrible war. Von Vogel went immediately to the wall, but Penguin and Mercer stood mouth agape and utterly tantalized before mounds of stunning treasure. Golden statues of the dog faced Anubis glared over fields of bronze and gold pottery, glistening gemstones and jewels, and chests of treasures. Though caked in dust, sand, and cobwebs, the gems and jewels and treasures all still sparkled and shimmered like starlight. Cobblepot’s monocle fell to his side in disbelief, and Mercer fell to his knees, crawling to a chest of gold and jewels, digging his hands through it all and letting the treasures drip through his fingers like trickling water. ”Blimey...... This s‘why I don’t work f’er T’you-Face.........”
The Kabuki Twins fanned out, dull expressionless masks gazed blankly into stone walls and dunes of valuables, and Penguin stood in a stunned silence, allowing the atmosphere, treasure, the whole room to embrace him. It was magnanimous.... Von Vogel lightly the laid a hand on the blue wall in the back ”Herr Cobblepot if I could direct you’re attention here, please.....” Vogel traced his fingers across hieroglyphic depictions, that which told the story of an opulent pharaoh... A fat king who delighted in silks, treasures, and magics from across the world. A mighty conquerer who sieged many lands, and won many battles. ”But, his opulence and greed led him astray. He coveted zhe riches of a neighboring land. But zhey vwere forces he did not understand.....” When the tyrant attacked his neighbor, they retaliated with horrific magic the likes of which he’d never known. This was the site of his defeat, and his final resting place.
”Ah the despot’s denouement; when an empire is toppled by its own aspirations.” Penguin and the Kabuki Twins stood before Von Vogel amidst his lecture. Mr. Mercer, now bedazzled in jewelry and gems soon joined them. ”Y’hate t’ see it.” Mercer opined with a rather disinterested tone. “Caesar’s Ides of March, Napoleon’s Campaign of Waterloo, Hitler’s Siege at Stalingrad.” Oswald did so love to romanticize the rise and fall of an empire. The art, the glory, the poetic indifference of the cosmos as something so mighty toppled over for sophisticated minds to muse over centuries later.
Penguin and his entourage arose from the tomb back to the surface world above. Blistering heat wafted against the group immediately, cascading them in sweat once more. “Excellent work as always, Monsieur Vogel.” Oswald hummed as his goons scrambled to refuel for the continued journey ahead. ”Of course, Herr Pinguin. But, zhere in lies an issue.... Vwe have blown s’through your donations at a remarkable rate... Zhe dig ist in need of more funding...” This whole operation proved both costly and lucrative. Oswald could’ve just had a desolate checkpoint out in the middle of nowhere, but funding an archeological venture like this heightened his standing amongst socialites and intelligentsia in his home kingdom. Add the treasure uncovered to the mix, and it was a win-win-win. So, more funding was not completely out of the question “A portion of the treasures will have to be sold on the black market for capital. After my cut, of course.” Cobblepot cooed with a delighted tone. ”But.... Zhey belong in a museum!” Dr. Vogel protested, but was met with total silence, and this nonresponse from Penguin said a million words without saying any, all of which Von Vogel did not particularly enjoy. ”As you vwish.” Dietrich resigned to his benefactor with a sigh. It was never easy to acquire funds, and Dr. Vogel was always quite disgusted with himself for this particular arrangement... But, discovery did sometimes mean sacrifice.
The entourage reached Oswald’s Rolls Royce, and Penguin settled himself into the passenger seat. There was this sudden strange tingling in his ear which he couldn’t quite make out, it was like the melodic hum of machinery, but it didn’t sound close. The pharaoh of fowls squinted, using his flipper to shield his eyes to look off into the horizon. A few shapes glistened in the sunlight, but Oswald frankly couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Ernk.... Oh Mister Mercer?” Penguin assumed it was merely a mirage, the sun and blistering heat toying with his mind and eyes. “What is that off in the distance, old boy?” Von Vogel and Mercer both squinted in the glaring sunlight. ”Looks....” He could just barely make out vague amorphous shapes off in the distance. ”Looks like another c’yaravan.” Mercer surmised. Cobblepot reached into his car’s glove box, rattling around a few documents and papers, then pulling out a pair of binoculars. ”Not ours.” Oswald opined with a curious tinge to his voice. The Arctic autocrat of Gotham pressed the binoculars to his dull eyes and did a double-take. “Is that...... Is that a tank?” He lowered the binoculars with a grimace, the Kabuki Twins tensed up as if preparing for conflict. “Surely not........” Cobblepot chuckled out. ”The military p’raps?” Confusion cascaded across them like rushing water, Vogel, Mercer, and Oswald all exchanging bewildered glances. ”Zhe military never combs zhis region.” The shapes in the horizon took the form of vehicles, but Penguin looked away and glanced at Mercer. “No. I paid them off, they’d never poke around here.”
Charles Lafayette was an Intergang crook who fancied himself a gentlemen of crime in a similar vain to Oswald Cobblepot. He fancied himself a rival to Cobblepot, in fact. A sentiment the Penguin did not share. He’d lead a few brief scuffles against the old bird on a few occasions prior, but nothing as grand and glorious as this. A Mark VIII World War I tank veered over the horizon, with Charles at the helm. He was a thin little man with curly grey hair matted under a pith hat helmet with goggles. He too, wore a monocle, in mockery of Penguin’s style and elegance. ”Penguin won’t bloody-well know what hit him, eh boys?” The knock off criminal sneered to his crew of Intergang mercenaries. The tank led the charge, followed by five cars and trucks with armed mooks holding their firearms to the air. Following close behind was a massive truck with a carried load wrapped and concealed in tarp. ”Tallyho, gentlemen!” And with that a blast of tank fire pierced the air and whizzed across scorching heat. ”Get down!” The entourage ducked as an explosion of sand dunes blasted away a group of laborers. Intergang cars charged into the ruins, guns firing wildly as Penguin’s mercenaries desperately scrambled to organize. Another blast of tank fire punctured through the horizon, shredding through a tent and exploding a pair mercenaries away. Gunfire roared like a carnivorous predator from both sides, Intergang cars ran over innocent workers with little care or concern, and mercenaries from both sides spat a hail of gunfire at each other. Another round of tank fire seared through the skies and careened into one of Penguin’s watchtowers, toppling the rickety structure upon itself.
| Amon Tomaz |
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