American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 274 The Subjugated Sicilian Union. (Bonus chapter, please vote with monthly tickets)
This is a private steam room on the iceberg that is not open to the public.

Thick, scalding white steam billowed in the enclosed space.

It devoured the ornate Byzantine-style tiles on the walls, blurring the faces and outlines of everyone within, leaving only a suffocating, humid mist.

And at the very center of this mist—

Dior.

The club is practically the 'king'.

Wearing only a simple white bathrobe, he leaned back lazily on the main stone bench.

His brilliant blond hair was damp with moisture, with a few stray strands clinging unruly to his smooth forehead, but this did nothing to diminish his almost divine handsomeness.

Panesa, Beretti, Galante, Casamento, Inzellro.

The leader of the five major families of the Gotham Sicily Alliance.

They were also wrapped in bathrobes, but showed no signs of relaxation. Their tense bodies appeared stiff and wary in the steam, like trapped beasts thrown into unfamiliar territory.

Dior did not speak immediately.

He simply picked up the apple juice beside him, gently swirled the amber liquid inside, took a sip, and then said:
"Gentlemen..."

He nodded slightly as a greeting, then got straight to the point:

"Times have changed."

He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over five faces—some aged, some gloomy, and some angry.

"The twilight of Rome has arrived; its empire is decaying from within, and even Rome itself is losing control. And that new tyrant, masked and howling in the shadows..."

Dior's lips curled into a sneer. "He seems to think that chaos itself is order."

"And... I have no intention of sharing the Gotham cake with any of you here, not even the smallest piece."

"tell me"

Dior's voice remained steady, yet it possessed a captivating power.

"Are you willing?"

"Are you willing to be swept into the dustbin of history along with the fading light of the old era? Or, worse, become an insignificant stepping stone, easily crushed, on that madman's path to power?"

The hissing steam blurred the expressions on both sides' faces.

This is a showdown, but more importantly, it's an invitation that cannot be refused...

Inzerlo tensed his jaw, and in the suffocating steam, he seemed to hear the old world he had held onto all his life emitting a mournful cry of shattering.

That night, the monster hanging upside down in the cemetery, the dagger that cleaved through bullets.
These guys aren't human at all; they're things that crawled out of hell!
And now, they are on the territory of that 'monster's' master.

They were even asked to strip naked and walk into the sweltering bathroom, ostensibly for safety reasons.

My gaze pierced through the thick moisture.

Inzerlo stared intently at the young figure sitting leisurely in the main seat.

Dior
He's just a guy who's been in Gotham for less than two years!

A stranger!

But this outsider actually managed to not only gain a foothold in that damned club in a short period of time, but even surpass Coppa!
Who on earth did that silly penguin Cobblestone bring into Gotham?!
He not only has those inhuman monsters under his command!

He could also secretly send people to bring them here from their respective lairs, leaving them powerless to resist!

What a terrifying intelligence network and execution capability this would require?
When did the waters of Gotham become this deep?

The Falcone family achieved a level of control that took generations to attain.
This kid... what makes him so special?!

Looking at Dio's red eyes that pierced through the mist, and the vodka he was leisurely sipping in his hand.
Inzellino actually smelled a faint fragrance of apples in his nostrils.

The smell reminded him of the apple tree he had planted himself in the backyard of his old house in Sicily, under the warm, dry sun.

It lacked Falcone's cunning and the Black Mask's chaotic madness, but rather something else entirely...

Something colder and more absolute.

It's an arrogance that disregards rules and treats these old guys like ants.

Are you unwilling?

Of course not willingly!
but……

Faced with such an existence.
Now, struggling to survive in the cracks of the Eastern District, they can no longer afford to offend any third-party forces.
Resistance seems to only hasten death.

perhaps……

Perhaps relying on a more powerful predator is the only way for the Sicilian Alliance to survive in their desperate situation.

The thought filled Inzerillo with a deep-seated nausea and self-contempt.

As if seeing through Inzerillo's inner turmoil, Dio put down his wine glass.

He didn't look at Inzerillo, but instead turned his gaze to Panesa, whose face had been the most somber from the beginning.

“Mr. Panesa, I heard you lost a convoy fully loaded with ‘cargo’.” Dio’s tone was calm, with a hint of probing. “It’s a pity. If that shipment had arrived safely, it might have temporarily eased your immediate crisis.”

"His Majesty is well-informed. However..."

Panesa's muscles tensed, and she squeezed out her voice through clenched teeth: "Our family has weathered many storms; we can withstand a little loss."

He tried to maintain his last shred of dignity, which was crumbling.

"Is that so?" Dior smiled ambiguously. "Just a 'small' loss?"

"As far as I know, the value of that shipment is enough to arm a small army."

"And now, it has become a toy for the madmen under Black Mask's command."

"Once something like this happens, it's bound to happen again."

"Next time, it might not just be the goods that disappear."

These words struck Panesa squarely where it hurt, and made the others' faces even uglier.

"Ahem." Beretti tried to change the subject, his voice dry, "You invited us here not just to remind us how bad our situation is, could you?"

He managed to force a semblance of composure onto his pale face.

Dior leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd:
"Of course not. I'm just offering an option."

"Instead of fighting each other and being crushed inch by inch between Falcone's lingering influence and Black Mask's madness, it's better to... consolidate resources."

“Integration?” Casamento couldn’t help but interject, his tone sarcastic. “How do you integrate him? Like that fat, short Cobblepot, making him one of your dogs?”

"."

"Coppert? He's at best a penguin hiding under the ice, scavenging scraps for a living."

Dior's gaze suddenly turned cold, and the pressure in the air increased abruptly.

"The integration I'm referring to is cooperation."

"You possess something that neither Falcone nor Black Mask has."

“Deep within the very fabric of Gotham City lies a network of threads that have been woven over centuries.”

"And what's the price?" Inzerillo asked again. "Cooperation always requires us to give something, doesn't it?"

He asked the most crucial question, his eyes fixed on Dior.

A hint of approval flashed in Dior's red eyes:
"It's very simple."

"Intelligence, channels, and... when necessary."

"Become my 'face'."

"To handle some matters that I cannot personally handle."

“And in return,” he paused, his voice laced with enticement, “the flag of ‘Iceberg’ can provide you with shelter.”

"The mad dog in the black mask will not bite you easily again."

“Falcone’s power will also be somewhat wary.”

"more importantly"

He leaned forward slightly, a smile playing on his lips. "You will have the chance to take back everything that belongs to you, and even..."

"More."

"That sounds nice!" Panesa scoffed. "In the end, we've just jumped from one fire pit into an even bigger one!"

"I'll work my ass off for you, and then I'll be thrown away like an old rag!"

"Mr. Panesa" Dio was not angry. Instead, he chuckled and said, "You've got one thing wrong. I'm not Falcone, nor am I Black Mask."

"I have absolutely no interest in controlling those rotten businesses in the gutter."

"What I want is 'domination'."

"Dominate Gotham, dominate everything, create an order... defined by me."

"Under this order, as long as the collaborator faithfully abides by the rules, he can obtain the benefits he deserves and absolute security."

"And those who try to break the rules..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but a fleeting glint of cold light flashed in his red eyes.
This made everyone understand the unspoken words.

A longer silence fell over the bathroom, with only the tireless hissing of steam blurring the five faces whose expressions were constantly shifting.

Resentment, weighing options, and the chilling aura of being utterly 'dominated'.

at last
With his arm in a sling, Galant seemed to have exhausted his last bit of patience. He gritted his teeth and almost forced the words out of his throat: "Then...how...do we...come together...?"

"Wait... Galant."

Inzerlo suddenly spoke, interrupting Galant's almost surrendering question.

He raised his head, his gaze no longer wandering, but looking directly at Dio.

“Your Majesty, before we discuss the specifics of our cooperation… there is something I should let you know.”

He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts, or perhaps observing Dio's reaction.

"Just recently, I received some unverified messages from a very mysterious source."

"The Black Mask and the Falcone family, and the connection between them."

"There seems to be some private contact now, and the possibility of peace talks is being explored."

These words suddenly exploded in the steamy bathroom!

"what?!"

"Peace talks?!"

"Inzerillo! You fucking kept this from us?!"

Panesa, Beretti, and Casamento lost their voices almost simultaneously.

Even Galant, who proposed the collaboration, was stunned.

Faced with his companion's accusations, Inzerlo remained calm and simply explained:

“I only received the urgent message on my way here. I haven’t had time to confirm it yet, let alone tell you.”

As he spoke, his gaze once again swept over the crowd and landed steadily on Dio.

The meaning in his eyes was self-evident.

This information is our bargaining chip.

The situation took an extremely subtle turn at that moment.

Although the cooperation will likely continue.
After all, they dared not gamble that peace talks would succeed, nor did they dare gamble that war would not break out again in the future, and they realized that their outdated way of life might really need a change.

But the card that Inzerlo played was undoubtedly a royal flush!
It transformed the five individuals from pitiful creatures completely subservient to others, only able to beg for protection, into potential collaborators possessing important intelligence and certain strategic value.

They are no longer merely recipients of charity, but have gained the initiative to influence the situation and even, to some extent, steer cooperation in a direction more favorable to themselves.

Until now
A long-lost sense of control has quietly returned.

All five of them unconsciously straightened their hunched backs, trying to grasp at this straw that had fallen from the sky and could allow them to stand up again.

just
Under their gazes, a mixture of tension, anticipation, and even a hint of secret provocation.

The man merely let out a cold laugh.

"is it?"

The two-word rhetorical question, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, was like a bucket of ice water, abruptly extinguishing the slight fervor that had just ignited among the five people.

What made them even more uneasy was that after saying those two words, the guy didn't say another word.

He even relaxed his body, and his red eyes, which pierced through the mist, slowly closed.

It was as if all the noise and commotion outside, the negotiations, and even these five old salted fish struggling to survive had vanished.
It's all irrelevant to him now.

He seems to be...

wait?

Time ticked by amidst the hissing steam, and the oppressive silence returned, even more unbearable than before.

The five people looked at each other, and each saw confusion in the other's eyes.

Finally, even the most hot-tempered Galant could no longer tolerate it. This unresolved silence was more agonizing than a direct threat.

He suddenly tried to stand up, wanting to question this damned king about what tricks he was up to!
"Um?!"

But his body had barely left the stone bench an inch when he crashed into an invisible wall!

Suddenly, an irresistible and enormous force forcefully and violently pushed him back into his original position!
The force was so great that it sent a sharp pain through his injured arm, almost making him scream out in pain.

Galant stood frozen in place, his face drained of color, only bewilderment remaining.

He opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out.

He...he can't move!
It was as if an invisible giant hand had firmly imprisoned him on the stone bench!

Casamento, who was standing nearby, noticed his strange posture and pale face.

He immediately growled in a low voice, filled with impatience and disdain:

"Garant! Did you get steam-induced brain damage? Are your legs too weak to stand up?"

As he spoke, he stood up, intending to go and check on the situation...

But the next second, the same thing happened to him!
An invisible, immense force crashed down.

His obese body was pinned to the spot.
Casamento immediately screamed:
"Don't move! Something...something is holding us both down!"

This shrill shout made the three people beside him freeze!

The slight sense of luck that might have existed before vanished, and a chill ran straight up from the tailbone to the top of the head!
They looked around in terror. Apart from the billowing steam, there was nothing there, but the power that could crush them like insects was undeniably real!

They almost forgot...

Or rather, they have been deliberately avoiding a fact.
The young man before me, lounging with his eyes closed in a relaxed state, is more than just the king of icebergs…

He's also a superhuman!

A monster with power they could neither comprehend nor resist!

The slight initiative and psychological advantage gained from the intelligence were completely shattered before this silent yet domineering display of power, leaving not even a trace.

Here they
The fish is still on the cutting board.
Time passed slowly under suffocating, invisible pressure, each second feeling like torture.

The leaders of the five great families were paralyzed by steam and fear, and could only wait for the king who was resting with his eyes closed.
He delivered his final verdict.

at last
"Knock, knock, knock."

Outside the heavy bathroom door.

Three clear and rhythmic knocks broke the silence.

Dio opened his eyes, his red eyes showing no surprise.

He didn't look towards the door, but simply said, "Come in."

The door was silently pushed open a crack, without any footsteps, and a metal cart with an old-fashioned television set was slowly brought in by an unseen hand.

The wheels rolled on the wet tiles and finally stopped in the center of the bathroom, directly facing the five people in the bathtub.

The screen first showed static, then quickly lit up.

The image appears slightly shaky.

It was a seemingly secluded suburban villa.

With their five years of experience, they immediately recognized that this was an excellent location for a secret rendezvous.

And as expected.
Several black cars came to a stop silently, and a middle-aged man with meticulously combed hair, whose imposing presence could be felt even through a screen, walked steadily into the villa, surrounded by a group of elite bodyguards.

"Carmine...Falcone?!"

Panesa gasped in a low voice.

What are the Romans doing here?!

However, what happened next almost made their eyes pop out of their sockets!

Shortly after Falcone entered.

Another group of vehicles arrived.

Although the leader's face was covered by a mask, his distinctive black attire and proud posture almost certainly identified him as Black Mask himself!
They...they are actually making contact!

Inzerilo's information is true!

But at this moment, Inzerlo felt no joy at the confirmation of the information's accuracy; instead, he was overwhelmed by a chilling shock!

He suddenly turned his head to look at Dio.

The enemy's intelligence network... is it really that terrifying?!

Not only did they know they were in contact, but they even knew the specific locations and times…

Knowing it inside and out?!
But just as this massive information shock shook the five of them to their core—

"boom--!!!!!"

A muffled explosion suddenly erupted from the television speakers!

On the screen, the wall of the villa facing the camera suddenly exploded, sending flames and thick smoke soaring into the sky!

Broken bricks and wood chips flew everywhere like a rainstorm!
The screen shook violently, but it was still possible to see the Roman being helped out of the side opening by a bespectacled young man, who appeared to be his youngest son, Alberto Falcone, in a disheveled state.

His suit was covered in ash, his once neatly combed hair was now disheveled, and his face wore an expression of shock and anger.

But what's even more chilling is what happened next—

Amidst the raging inferno and billowing smoke, a figure emerged with unhurried steps.

It's Black Mask!
His black clothes were spotless, as if the potentially deadly explosion was nothing more than an insignificant fireworks display to him.

"Snapped."

The television screen went out, returning to darkness.

The bathroom was deathly silent.

The leaders of the five major families looked at each other in bewilderment.

Dior's languid voice broke the silence again, tinged with amusement: "It seems... the friendly talks between the two important figures have been quite thoroughly interrupted."

"Could it be... that you sent someone to do this?!" Inzerillo could no longer maintain his composure. He turned sharply to Dio, his voice filled with shock and doubt, "How dare you?"

This wrist…

This courage...

This utterly unbridled malice!
He actually dared to attack both Falcone and Black Mask at the same time?!
Isn't he afraid of incurring a furious retaliation from both major powers?!

"Do you know what's going to happen next?!"

Beretti screamed, her voice filled with terror.

"What follows will be a war to the death!"

Faced with Beretti's fear and questioning, Dior simply shrugged indifferently.

He glanced at the five still-shaken faces before him.

"I didn't send anyone to do this."

His tone was infuriatingly casual, "How do you know it wasn't that madman in Black Mask orchestrating this whole thing to take the opportunity to get rid of Falcone?"

'Or perhaps it's a trap set by that old fox Falcone, a scheme to lure the snake out of its hole and then turn the tables on it?'

He pointed to the now-darkened screen and began to analyze it slowly and methodically.

"As you can see, both of them, though disheveled, came out 'unharmed.' If I had really done it..."

"In my style, at least one of them has to stay and lie there forever. Isn't that right?"

Five people remained silent.
Inzellino, in particular, felt his cheeks burning, like a fool whose clumsy trick had been exposed in public.

He thought he had a trump card, but it turned out that his opponent not only knew all along, but also saw further and more clearly!
His intelligence and calculations, which he was so proud of, seemed so ridiculous and naive in the face of the opponent's absolute information superiority and power.

Then...

The breakdown of peace talks means that there is no room for maneuver between Falcone and Black Mask, and the war will inevitably escalate to a full extent, becoming even bloodier and more unpredictable.

These five people struggled to survive in the cracks...

“I’m not asking you to go and fight that mad dog Black Mask directly; that would be suicide for you right now.”

Dior proposed a solution.

"Cooperation can be done in a different way."

"Iceberg will provide you with limited real-time updates and key intelligence on the conflict between Falcone and Black Mask. This will allow you to mitigate risks in advance, and even... see opportunities."

“Through Kobot’s channels, we can provide you with a stable supply of inexpensive and high-quality military equipment. This will enable you to defend yourself and even retaliate within a certain range.”

"And your task is very simple."

"When Falcone and Black Mask have committed heavy troops to a certain area, and are locked in a fierce battle, leaving their rear vulnerable..."

“Take a bite out of Falcone from behind! Seize those industries, territories, and transportation lines that they are temporarily unable to attend to or have already crippled!”

He leaned forward, his tone carrying a devilish allure:

"The things that are seized are nominally owned by 'Iceberg' and will be managed and distributed by 'Iceberg' in a unified manner to avoid attracting unwanted attention."

"And you..."

"The personnel you need will receive standardized and efficient training from 'Iceberg,' and then be deployed to these new industries that you will 'assist in managing' to ensure... stable operation."

The voice fell
Panesa, Beretti, Galante, Casamento, and even Inzellello all understood the naked intention of annexation behind these generous terms!
This is hardly a collaboration.

This is clearly using them as cannon fodder and puppets to charge into battle!
The territory that is seized belongs to Dio, and the people sent there belong to Dio. Their forces will be gradually dispersed, infiltrated, and replaced!
In the end, they may very well become empty commanders with only the title of leader!
but.
Think of their Sicilian family, who abandoned them and saw them as a burden.

Think of those so-called 'big shots' who lurk in the shadows and watch them perish.

Imagine the terrifying prospect of the family's complete annihilation under the crushing power of Falcone and Black Mask...

Rather than total annihilation, it seems... that becoming dependent on a more powerful predator is the better option.

It's not that it's unacceptable?
At least Dior provided a clear framework for cooperation, even handling the most troublesome after-sales service, giving them a short-term respite and perhaps even an opportunity to expand.
Even if it's just in name only.
After a suffocating silence.
Inzerillo took a deep breath of the scorching air and spoke first:
“...We...the Inzerilo family...agree.”

With the first person breaking the ice, the other four seemed to have a huge weight lifted off their shoulders, or rather, they recognized the inescapable reality.

They all slumped onto the stone benches, waving their hands weakly.

"What...do we need to do?"

On behalf of everyone, Inzerillo asked this crucial question.

Since you have chosen to submit, you must know the rules of your new master.

Dior got up and walked to the door.

He turned his head, his voice coming through the swirling steam, coldly saying:
"It's very simple."

"The first step is to stop all those shady, illegal drug businesses in your respective territories."

He paused, his tone carrying undisguised contempt:
"Those low-class things are so disgusting."

After saying that, he didn't even wait for the five people to respond before pushing the door open and leaving.

The heavy doors closed silently behind him, shutting out the suffocating steam and the five people with their own differing thoughts.

A blank silence fell over the bathroom.

"What...what does he mean?"

Galant broke the silence first, looking puzzled. "Contraband? That's one of the fastest and most stable ways to make money! So many brothers make a living off of it!"

Casamento frowned, his fleshy face full of confusion.

"If we cut off this business, how will we support our men? How will we buy the 'high-quality weapons' he provides?"

Panesa's eyes flickered; he was thinking more deeply.

“Second-rate…” He chewed on the word, trying to fathom Dior’s true intentions. “Does he think these things are a disgrace to his ‘order’? Or does he feel… the profits aren’t enough?”

Beretti's face was pale, and her voice was weak:

"Perhaps... he wanted to test our obedience? To see if we were really obedient?"

Inzerlo remained silent, his mind racing.

"No...it might not be that simple."

Inzerlo spoke slowly, "He looks down on such petty gains and despises the chaos and filth they bring."

"The 'order' he wants is something more 'advanced'."

"Perhaps stopping this is... clearing the space, preparing for his bigger plans later?"

"Or is it forcing us to completely sever ties with our past way of life and rely entirely on the 'new job' he provides?"

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed, and he even began to wonder if it was a deeper test of loyalty, or clearing obstacles for some grand plan that they had not yet seen through.

"anyway……"

Inzerillo sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice:
"The first step is to do as he says."

"Clean up all routes for transporting contraband, and do it cleanly, leaving no loose ends."

(End of this chapter)