The Gotham City Center had been decorated in greens, purples and golds; overly luxurious decor had filled the room as a renovation to the Duke's monumental showcase of himself and his achievements. There were rows of glass cases proudly presenting awards, mostly trophies and riches, with the occasional framed newspaper article. At the front of the hall, on a platform, was the Duke of Coventry, basking in his revenge.

Edward sat on his elaborately decorated chair, almost as if he'd tried to turn the furniture into a throne. After all, he was a duke. He was the best duke. He'd risen from poverty to royalty, by his pure genius — going from an inventor to a royal advisor to a duke! And, eventually, if Oswald were to so... unfortunately pass, he would most likely end up king. So, it was only fair that he prepared with the same sort of luxuries he'd have in the future.

A small chortle left the man, still sat comfortably on his throne. He used his question mark cane to tap the toes of his shoes, legs crossed over one another. "What to do, what to do? Now that's the riddle, isn't it? I could humiliate you throughout the entirety of Coventry, drag you and your gang's name through all of the embarrassment of your failings. Your punishment could be the newspapers, all of the tabloids would mock you..." He trailed off, tapping his chin out of amusement. "Or, perhaps the stocks? Would you find that more to your taste? Having all of Coventry's leftovers tossed at you? Hm... Or are you boring and prefer Blackgate?"