"First off, as you may have guessed, your hideout has now become fully sealed, just like a can."
"And the oxygen inside the can is limited. How many of you are there? Hmm? I guess at least 20, right?"
"At that rate, the existing oxygen in the can will only last you three hours max."
"You thought your base was well-hidden, but we've known about it for a while."
"And just like you guessed, this is a premeditated trap. Now, I want to play a game with you."
"An oxygen pipe is leading into this can, but the end of the pipe delivering the oxygen is hidden within the walls. You'll have to dig into the wall to find that pipe, or in three hours, you'll run out of oxygen."
"Owls need to breathe too, don't they?"
The woman wearing a bird-like mask began to tremble, but the voice from the radio didn't stop. It said, "Don't imagine that your colleagues or assassins you've trained up will come save you. Given the thickness and hardness of the ice around you, no one, not even a machine, could reach your location within three hours."
The voice from the radio began to fluctuate, echoing ominously in the conference room, it was darker and scarier than the nursery rhymes spread by the Court of Owls.
"Once, you stood on top of Gotham's high-rises, looking down on the common folk, watching them struggle to scrape a meager living from the earth."
"Next, you hid underground, looking up at countless pairs of worn and weary feet hurrying for survival."
"Now, you will experience what it's like to fight for your survival—with your bare hands."
Then they heard the voice from the radio turn gentler, almost dreamlike, "... My little birds, dig, for the most trivial breath of air—dig until you break your fingers."
"Or offer up your deaths... as a sacrifice for Gotham's resurrection."
After the voice died down, someone in the conference room couldn't stand it anymore. A masked man, shaking all over, threw the radio on the floor. Everyone watched his insane act in silence.
"... Should we actually start digging?" The woman's voice wavered, "We don't have any tools—how do we dig through these walls..."
"We're trapped! If we don't dig, we'll suffocate!"
"But what if he's lying?" An old voice said.
"If we just sit here and wait, we're sure to die! This is a meticulously crafted trap, they won't let us go!"
"Do you really expect me to claw at those bricks with my bare fingers?!" Another man exclaimed. Then he stood up, flailing his rather plump arms and declared, "I'm one of the Thirteen Jury, and the most senior at that! My family's the same, all of you go dig! I command you!"
Everyone else started to stand up, contradicting his words. Someone said, "My family's the wealthiest now, it should be you all digging!"
Someone else said, "It should be those who are strong doing the digging!"
"It's all your fault! You should go!"
"You're the same as..."
During the escalating argument, suddenly, a silence swept over the room for a few seconds.
It was evident that someone had just thought of an easier way to extend their lives than digging through the wall.
Everyone in Gotham Police Department's office fell silent. Gordon shuddered as he turned to Shiller and said, "I think the problem with the Court of Owls might not be that serious. The real issue is..."
"You didn't plan this all along, did you?" Victor turned to look at Shiller.
Shiller rolled his eyes and said, "I tricked them—who knows where their secret hideouts are holed up? How could I possibly go to the trouble of setting up an oxygen pipe for them?"
"Alright, let's not talk about that. The next step is negotiation. Detective Gordon, this mob boss you mentioned before, particularly annoying, likes to bargain with the police?"
"Don't remind me." Gordon rubbed his temples, "Them being mentioned gives me a headache."
"Okay, let them take turns arguing with the Court of Owls. Tell them we'll raise the final compensation by 5 percent."
"Sheesh..." Gordon took a breath, "The Court of Owls will be left penniless!"
Then Gordon clicked his tongue, saying, "I have a feeling that you've had this planned all along."
"Do you want to hear a fairy tale?" Shiller winked with a smile.
"There was a flock of birds with golden feathers. Those poor birds carelessly fell into a hunter's hands. They begged the hunter for mercy, willing to pluck their precious feathers to exchange for their freedom..."
Shiller suddenly changed the subject, "What are you planning to eat for Easter?"
Answering his own question, he said, "I'm planning to have roast chicken."
Overnight, the news of a large-scale terrorist attack in Gotham made front-page headlines on every major newspaper the next morning.
At a press conference, Mayor Roy wept as he condemned the casualties caused by the terrorists while also accusing the Federal Government of failing to fulfill its security duties, labeling Gotham as 'The abandoned city'.