A petite woman in the front row sighed, "It doesn't help that times are tough. If people could afford a decent meal, they wouldn't be so obsessed with petty theft."
"You might have noticed, things are only going to get worse." Leaning against the bar, Catwoman sighed, "The mayor has been pushing tourism, which will inevitably suppress thievery. The mobsters looking to go legit aren't going to want to associate with us either."
"Those who could leave, have already left." The blonde man followed up, "A number of old-timers have switched trades and started running barbecue stands."
"Who would choose theft over a legitimate business? We wouldn't be here if we had any money!" Another voice complained, "If we could pull off a big heist and get some start-up cash, I'd set up a snack stand outside the construction site. My neighbor made his fortune doing just that."
"I don't want to do this anymore either. I'm getting old, my strength isn't what it used to be, I know I can't keep running forever." The petite woman sighed again, "But my sister, she's doing so well, she wants to go to college in another city, and I have to find a way to pay for it."
Hearing the complaints from the crowd below, Cobblepot clapped his hands together and said, "I know we're all facing tough times. That's why I called you here. We have a chance to make good money off this flock of sheep. Wouldn't it be nice to earn enough to quit while we're ahead?"
At Cobblepot's words, the murmurs from the crowd grew louder. The blonde man raised his hand first to ask, "Is there really the chance to make a lot of money? Are those magicians and vampires really that rich? Would they actually bring money with them here?"
"Old K, you're a fool. Who doesn't carry money when they go out?"
"You're all wrong, it's not just about the money they have." A scholarly-looking man with black-rimmed glasses adjusted his glasses and chimed in, "Vampires can live for centuries, if they picked up something a hundred years ago, it would be an antique today. And do I need to tell you how much antiques are worth?"
At his words, the discussion below heated up. Catwoman clapped her hands together once more and said.
"Now you understand why I brought you all together. Some of you have quick hands but have no clue about the value of things you could steal. Some of you know a lot about antiques, but aren't skilled at pickpocketing."
"For example, I know a lot about gemstones. I can tell the quality of a gem from afar, but I'm most comfortable in museums and the mansions of the rich, where I excel at breaking and entering, and lockpicking."
"Pickpocketing in the streets is something I did when I was starting out, back when I was just a little girl. I've long forgotten those skills. I can't exactly magically hang a rope from their head, can I?"
The room filled with laughter, the memory of the infamous "Lover's Eye" heist coming to mind.
That was Catwoman's claim to fame. A stubborn gem collector from Metropolis decided to take his collection on tour across the East Coast. Despite warnings against visiting Gotham, he insisted, hiring over two hundred security guards to surround the museum.
But as the infamous "Flying Thief", Catwoman managed to make off with his prized gem, the "Lover's Eye", leaving the collector furious.
However, it was a surprise when the "Lover's Eye" was returned by the time the exhibit left Gotham, accompanied by a note from Catwoman. "Your taste leaves much to be desired. The gem is ugly, so I'm returning it."
After that, the gem collector was essentially pushed out of the gem collecting scene. What's the point of showcasing a gem that even a thief wouldn't steal?
Once the mood in the room had livened up, Catwoman crossed her arms and adjusted the mask covering one side of her face, secretly adjusting her earpiece where she had Bruce on the line.
"So we must collaborate this time, exploiting our various skills to extract everything we can out of these people. Then we use their wealth to nourish every tier of Gotham's thieving industry."
"Now with a roof over your heads, intact families, children full of promise, and a handsome fortune, you can choose safer professions instead of persisting in the increasingly bleak career of theft, tormenting yourselves and Gotham's burgeoning tourism industry."
"I have some insider information for you." Cobblepot scanned the room and offered a smile.
"Gotham will soon be hosting a grand music festival featuring popular hip-hop artists from all over the East Coast. Tickets sold out immediately when put online, and the crowd is expected to be phenomenal."
"Gotham has never handled an event of this magnitude. Organized commercial activities will not meet the demands of the hordes of tourists. Private contractors will need to step in and fill the gap."
"Both Wayne Enterprises and Falcone's factories have produced merchandise featuring the latest hit album, 'Gotham King'. Once you have money, you can come to us for supplies."
"During the festival, selling merch from your stands outside the venue or around Jintan Square, you could sell souvenirs you bought for three cents apiece for five dollars. Isn't that much more profitable than risking your necks to steal from the mob?"
The atmosphere in the room heated up even more, the seasoned thieves whispering amongst themselves, plotting how to exploit this opportunity to strike it rich.
Thieves had been feeling rather desperate for quite some time, knowing that things couldn't go on like this, but uncertain how to change. The Gotham police and government obviously couldn't just round them all up and get them off the streets, it simply wasn't realistic.
But now they saw a different possibility – they saw hope.
Much like the people of Metropolis who, accustomed to a life of comfort, sought adventure, the hardened citizens of Gotham occasionally dreamed of a peaceful, satisfying life.
When Catwoman left the Gold Cup Bar, it was already daybreak. She stretched lazily in the doorway, took a deep breath of fresh air, and then spoke to Bruce on the other end of her earpiece.
"For so many years, I've been lulled to sleep by the dazzling beauty of precious gemstones. I believe I'm luckier than most Gothamites. At least I've had the luxury of seeking joy in my job, even though that job is a rotten one in a rotted city. Most aren't that lucky."
"I've said before that I couldn't understand what you were up to, one minute you're in the slums going hungry, the next you're building skyscrapers, and now you're getting thieves together to plot heists."
"But now, I'm starting to get it." Catwoman looked up at the grim clouds, brushing away a ray of light that peeked through, then continued, "Despite all this, I had a good dream."
"I dreamed of a city where mobs stopped their infighting, choosing not to rule through violence and fear. I dreamed of people who left behind their life of crime for honest work and peaceful lives."
"I dreamed of my mother loving me, not the cat. I dreamed of the woman who taught me how to steal saying she liked me, not the things I stole. I dreamed of everyone choosing me."
"I even dreamed of a day when the dark past is finally behind us, and Gotham finally clears up, and there you were, standing at my door, proposing."
"And, would you say yes?" Bruce's electrical voice buzzed in through her earpiece.
"Would Gotham really clear up?"
"Yes, one day it will."
"Then perhaps... I would."