Heh. Gotham… city of dreams. Or nightmares, depends on how you play your hand. Most people? They fold too early. They blink. But me? I never blink. Never.

(He flicks the lighter again, the flame casting flickers of light on his face.)

Y’know, I didn’t get where I am by waitin’ for someone to hand me a break. No, no… I took mine. This city chews people up and spits ‘em out if they ain’t smart enough to survive. But me? I don’t just survive—I thrive.

(He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing.)

Everyone thinks they got me figured out. "Oh, look at the Penguin, waddling around, cracking wise, cracking heads." But they never see the real me. Nah… they never look close enough. That’s their mistake.

(He smirks.)

This city's a game. And I don’t just play—I own the board. Everyone else? They’re just pieces, waiting for their turn to be knocked over.

(Penguin pauses, glancing at the lighter before closing it with a snap.)

Soon enough, they’ll see. In Gotham, you’re either a predator… or you’re prey. And me? I was born to hunt.