[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/7l36Zsl.png[/img][/center][color=000000][sub][b]#1.01: A Fine Day[/b][/sub] [sup][b][right]Earth-93913003, Gotham City[/right][/b][/sup][/color][hr]
[color=darkgray][color=DCDCDC]"It's a fine day in Gotham City."[/color]

Oswald Cobblepot stood proud and as tall as his stout, pudgy frame could allow him, his back to the Antarctic Industries boardroom table. The mahogany slab propped up on black iron struts was the closest thing the otherwise starkly-white room got to warm: one wall was a blank white space, barren but for the swirls of paint failing to provide character; the opposite featured a painting similarly devoid of life, some great and terrible acrylic storm of whites and grays that supposedly depicted a vast, frigid tundra; the third wall - the one Oswald was facing now, as he supped whiskey far too expensive for its comparative quality from a glass clutched in his sweaty, stubby fingers - was an edge-to-edge, floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out across the polluted, smog-stained skyline of Gotham City. 

Behind him, a cavalcade of portly white men sat around the table smiling and offering each other knowing, self-congratulatory nods and handshakes and dignified chuckles. To the side of the head of the table, offset to Oswald's position but carrying his own air of self-importance and subtle authority, stood the only in-shape man in the room, a thin gentleman with a tidy coif of hair and a pencil mustache. In his right hand he held a thin cigarillo, smoke trailing upwards from the tip, and in his left a tablet, from which he'd just delivered the news they were all patting themselves on the back about: the twelfth consecutive quarter of profit growth against the previous financial year. Warren White - the man holding the tablet, and Antarctic Industries' Chief Financial Officer - was hailed as an industry prodigy and a financial genius, and his tenure on Oswald's executive board certainly lent credence to his reputation. Antarctic was a monolith in Gotham's financial landscape - over the last three years, their already heavy industry presence had only ramped up to monopolistic levels, and the company subsequently now handled the majority of east-coast imports and exports. 

[color=DCDCDC]"Yes, a fine day in Gotham indeed."[/color] Cobblepot continued, turning around to raise his glass to the board, who all offered back empty-handed raised arms. Oswald kept only his personal supply in the building, and his subordinates were not permitted to partake. [color=DCDCDC]"But a finer day in this very room. Antarctic Industries continues to flourish under my leadership. This company has soared to heights my father never dreamed of! Truly, Antarctic Industries is a titan - and there is still plenty of opportunity for further growth."[/color]

Around the table, board members delivered the general murmured buzz of agreement and congratulation, as was expected of them. They were, after all, mostly figureheads, kept on mainly for their ability to stroke Cobblepot's ego. Sure, a couple had actually delivered the so-called 'duties' of their so-called 'job roles', both for Antarctic and other companies before Antarctic - but since the passing of Elijah, Oswald's father, and Oswald's subsequent takeover and revamping of the organization, Antarctic had seen unparalleled growth that was, frankly, ambivalent to their input or lack thereof, and this had only spiked further with Warren White's entry to the company. 

Of course, the unspoken catalyst of this massive growth was Oswald's empire as the singular drug kingpin of Gotham, ruling the city from its underbelly as the Penguin. Warren was instrumental as well, utilizing his financial acumen to artfully fold the illicit revenue stream into the company's legal (and public) profits, laundering their own dirty money through little more than carefully managed bank accounts and ledgers. Whether the rest of the board knew or cared was inconsequential; if they knew, they didn't speak of it, and if they cared, they [i]definitely[/i] didn't speak of it. 

[color=DCDCDC]"Cheers to industry, gentlemen."[/color] Oswald finished, sneering from beneath his crooked nose in the best approximation of a sincere smile he could manage. [color=DCDCDC]"And to another fine day in Gotham City."[/color]

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[color=DCDCDC]"It's a fine day in Gotham City."[/color]

Gotham City Police Department Street Officer James 'Jimmy' Gordon raised his eyebrows in shock as a scrawny man in a ratty hoodie and stained cargo pants spat on his newly-polished shoes as he walked past, hustling away before Jimmy could even muster the energy to be angry, let alone pursue him; a few bystanders who'd seen the act chuckled, and a couple more accelerated their weary, dead-eyed shuffles, lest they be caught up in any incoming retribution. Jimmy looked at his foot, grimacing as the thick, phlegm-speckled wad of saliva slowly dripped down the toe of his shoe. 

All of this occurred mere micro-seconds before his partner, Detective Harvey Bullock, reappeared from the bodega Jimmy was currently leaning against, and spouted the bizarre, impromptu statement. Harvey had one hand inside his jacket, squirreling away what Jimmy knew was a small brown envelope of cash, while the other was clutching a thick breakfast sandwich, bacon grease slowly oozing out the sides of the bread and down Harvey's fingers. Jimmy snatched away a paper napkin from Harvey's hand and bent over to wipe off his shoe.

[color=DCDCDC]"I don't know that that's ever been true in the history of this city."[/color] Jimmy said once he'd stood up, and the two of them crossed the street back to their police cruiser. Harvey was already sinking his yellowing teeth into the sandwich, and yolk and ketchup stained his scruffy, unkempt beard. The two men stood on opposite sides of the car, Jimmy waiting on Harvey to unlock the doors, Harvey leaning on the roof as he polished off the sandwich in three more gargantuan bites. With one last impressive swallow, he took another napkin and wiped his face down.
[color=DCDCDC]"See, that's your problem, Gordon. You still haven't fished out the bug that crawled up your ass and died."[/color]

Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head. His tidy appearance was almost a perfect mirror of Harvey's half-assed attempt to look presentable; the pressed GCPD uniform cut a fine figure down Jimmy's well-exercised body, with the uniform peaked cap sat neatly atop an orderly, practical haircut and his handsome face accessorized by a pair of stylish-yet-subtle glasses and a trimmed, well-groomed mustache perched over a strong, clean-shaven jawline. Harvey was a dark reflection - street clothes creased and stained from the days he'd been wearing it previous, a wild unshaven beard, and greasy hair that cascaded down his neck from beneath a beat-up and raggedy trilby. The two men could not look more unsuited to pairing if they'd actively tried. Harvey finally shoved the keys into the car door and unlocked the cruiser, and the two men slunk down into their seats almost in unison, the cruiser rocking from side to side as the aging chassis took on their weight.

[color=DCDCDC]"That 'bug' is a goddamn moral code, Bullock."[/color] Jimmy replied, his voice almost a low growl as he buckled his seatbelt. This time it was Harvey's turn to scoff, shaking his head as he stuck the keys in the ignition and turned, the cruiser's engine sputtering to life and a plume of soot erupting from the exhaust. [color=DCDCDC]"And I'll be cold in the ground before I throw that away like the rest of this damn city."[/color]
[color=DCDCDC]"The way [i]you're[/i] going, Jim-bo, you might not have that long a wait ahead of you. A moral code is one thing, but where's your self-preservation instinct?"[/color]

At this, Jimmy did actually have to concede Harvey had a point. The engine rumbled as Bullock kicked it into gear and they rolled into a light cruise along Gotham's main avenues, Harvey picking corners seemingly at random; with Harvey's 'pick-ups' done for the day and no one specific incident to respond to, the pair had the morning to simply make sure they would be seen. In this town, police presence was a reminder to pay your dues and keep to your own business. It certainly wasn't so that the community could feel safe and secure. 

[color=DCDCDC]"No one's got a shit to give about me, Bullock, before you start getting soft on me."[/color] Jimmy said, prompting a quick eye-roll from Harvey. [color=DCDCDC]"One measly cadet no one likes versus the entire force of the GCPD? I'm so insignificant I don't even count as small-fry."[/color]
Harvey nodded sagely, already tuning out from Gordon's self-pitying diatribe. Many hours in this cruiser had been spent discussing the dearth of ethics and principles within the police force and the city at large; Harvey had long consigned himself to the pointlessness of rallying against it, even before his assignment as Jimmy's partner. In a way, Jimmy reminded Harvey of his younger, more idealistic self. He wondered if Jimmy, in turn, saw in him his likely future self.

For his part, Jimmy simply took to staring out the window at the passing city, watching the drunks and addicts stumbling on the pavements, the domestic disputes spilling out of front doors into the streets, the purse-snatchers, extortioners, the over-worked, the living-out-of-their-cars. Every fresh tragedy another counted failure for Gotham as a city. 
[color=DCDCDC]"After all,"[/color] he said, his final musing for the morning before resigning to a familiar sullen silence that Harvey far preferred over high-minded moral rhetoric, [color=DCDCDC]"what can one man do against an entire city?"[/color]

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[color=DCDCDC]"It's a fine day in Gotham City."[/color] 

Mayor Aubrey James, a toad-like, sweaty man, stood at the podium in front of city hall and paused for dramatic effect. In front of him a sea of reporters and members of public office pointed cameras and microphones and held pencils carefully against paper; he took a moment to adjust his too-tight tie against the flabby flesh of his neck that spilled from his collar, and drew a breath to continue. 

[color=DCDCDC]"Yes, a fine day in Gotham City indeed. When the good people of Gotham sensibly voted myself as their elected official to lead this city into new, more prosperous times, I was sworn in with the promise of delivering real, tangible change - no wishy-washy, vague policies that could be hand-waved and delayed."[/color] He paused again, clammy hands slipping slightly where they gripped the edges of the podium. He withdrew a monogrammed handkerchief from his jacket pocket and carefully dabbed his forehead. [color=DCDCDC]"I promised to bring stability to the economy and new, affordable housing to the people - and look at our great city today. Home-grown, grassroots, Gotham-led companies aren't just stable but thriving, bringing jobs and revenue to the city at levels Gotham has never seen before. The Narrows Restoration Project is well-underway, with a planned 10,000 new homes over the next two years, all with affordable, long-term leases attached."[/color]

There was scattered-but-steady applause across the crowd, and Mayor James paused again to allow those scribbling feverishly to catch-up. It had been a strong first year of his term, at least by Gotham Mayor standards, and his office knew that if he delivered in the Narrows, he was a shoo-in for re-election. Even in a city as execrable as Gotham, the Narrows were especially heinous, a buzzing hive of the worst the city and its population had to offer. 

[color=DCDCDC]"Of course, our work in the Narrows wouldn't be possible without the proper funding, and my platform of unburdening the taxpayer remains steadfast! Gotham's tax-paying citizens already pay for our fine public services, and we cannot expect to maintain the quality of these services if we expect the common men and women of Gotham to fund the Narrows Restoration project as well. To this end, my office has spear-headed a brand new platform of shared funding for public works projects, to allow particular citizens of Gotham to give back to their city."[/color]

James gestured to the seated guests to his left, the first of which was a rake-thin, sharp-chinned man dressed impeccably and with a warm smile as he stood and waved, slowly approaching the podium.
[color=DCDCDC]"So please, join me in a round of applause as I introduce a close personal friend, William. D. Sommers, who is as passionate about rebuilding our great city as I am!"[/color]

James stepped aside, shaking William's hand and leading the crowd in heavy applause as he continued to smile and wave. Reporters within the crowd practically licked their lips; Sommers was a known entity already, a heavy supporter of Mayor James' campaign during the election period, and his company - Hightowers LLC - was already in the public eye due to the recent changeover in leadership. Bill Sommers Sr. had been known to be ill for some time already, and he had finally stepped down from his position and handed the reins to William, his only son and heir to the Sommers empire and industrial fortune. William had started his era at Hightowers strong, introducing new policies and working conditions that had both elevated public opinion of the company and increased revenue for the private market. He was, right now, Gotham's golden child, and Mayor James was eager to milk that popularity for all its poll-improving worth.

William allowed the applause to die down before beginning his address, every eye rapturously fixed upon him.
[color=DCDCDC]"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much to yourselves and my good friend Aubrey for having me here today. Please, let's have another round of applause for Aubrey, and all he's managed to accomplish in only a short twelve months!"[/color]
William lead the crowd in another scattering of applause, beaming at Mayor James, who smiled back and played the humble card, a well-practiced series of gestures and facial expressions designed to engineer good faith.

[color=DCDCDC]"It's true - I have been graced with this honourable opportunity to give back to the city that has done so much for me and my family. Without the good people of Gotham, Hightowers would still be the mere pipe-dream of my father and his father before him; this great city that has helped us so much deserves to share in that success. So Hightowers is donating generously to the Narrows Restoration project from our own profits - an even split with the taxpayer, straight down the middle. 50/50. So that we can, [i]all[/i] of us, contribute to the improvement of the city that we share and love. I for one, can't wait to see Gotham usher in a new golden age for the city, and I can't wait to help every step of the way!"[/color]

The applause went up again, and cameras flashed and popped as Aubrey came to stood next to William, the two holding a strong handshake and a smiling pose toward the reporters. The Narrows Restoration project was well and truly funded, with minimal impact on the common citizens of Gotham. That Hightowers LLC had been awarded, through one shell company or another, every public and private contract for every aspect of the project wasn't mentioned, nor would it be, and neither was the fact that as a result, Hightowers' generous contribution went straight back into its own pocket, straight alongside the taxpayer-funded half.  

William smiled, all teeth, eyes sparkling with something other than philanthropic pride. Aubrey smiled, thin lips, sweaty forehead, eyes squinting in the afternoon sun and hiding a nervous trepidation about who'd actually been elected mayor last year.[/color]