In the underground archive room at Gotham City Hall, James Gordon stood among rows of towering filing shelves, searching for records of a fire at a dockside warehouse owned by Maroni a year earlier.
The creak of the iron door opening made him turn around warily.
Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot stood in the doorway, leaning on his signature umbrella. The Penguin wore an expertly tailored dark gray suit and an eager businessman's smile as he limped toward him.
"Good evening, Jim. It's been a while." Cobblepot's voice echoed through the archive room. "Meeting somewhere like this has a certain... nostalgic charm."
Gordon glared at him, resting a hand at his waist. "Cobblepot, does City Hall's security system just not exist as far as you're concerned?"
"I know the head of security here." Cobblepot shrugged. "He owes me money. Besides, I'm a taxpayer. I have a right to enter municipal buildings-or at least arrange an 'appointment to visit' after business hours."
He shuffled closer, his leather shoes scraping loud echoes across the concrete floor. Gordon noticed that he had brought no bodyguards, which was unusual.
"What do you want?" Gordon asked bluntly.
Rather than answer immediately, Cobblepot took a thick manila folder from his inside jacket pocket and placed it on a nearby dust-covered table.
"I hear you're looking for evidence of Maroni's tax problems," Cobblepot said, tapping the folder lightly. "As luck would have it, I happen to have some... business records."
Gordon stared at the folder for a moment without touching it. "Why do you have these?"
"If you do business in Gotham, you need to know your competition," Cobblepot said with a smile. "Especially when that competition tries to drive your nightclub out of business and threatens to break your legs."
He opened the folder and pulled out several