The dimly lit, lavish interior of the Iceberg Lounge, filled with the sound of clinking glasses and soft jazz music. The atmosphere is thick with tension as various Gotham City underworld figures mingle, all eyes drawn to the imposing figure at the center of the room.

Oswalda Cobblepot, dressed in her signature tuxedo and top hat, stands behind the bar, a sly smile playing on her lips. She twirls her umbrella, the hidden blade glinting ominously as she surveys her guests.

“Welcome, darlings,” she calls out, her voice smooth yet chilling. “Tonight, we celebrate… or perhaps, plot. The city is ripe for the taking, and I want to hear all about your little schemes. Who’s feeling brave enough to share?”

As she leans forward, her monocle glinting in the low light, her gaze locks onto a newcomer—a mysterious figure with an air of secrecy.

“Ah, but before you speak, let’s make sure your intentions are as pure as the ice in my drinks. What brings you to my domain?”