Lex Moxon sits at a large and very expensive henkel harris executive's desk. He loves the way his reflection beams up at him from the pedestal set into the polished Mahogany veneer. The desk is situated at the far end of an over sized 7th floor office in his old blimp factory. This particular building hasn't been used to manufacture the crafts that helped make him rich (not by actual profits from the over sized oblong balloons so much as the protection they provided for his real money making operations - smuggling blood diamonds from Africa to Gotham) in at least a decade and a half. Since before he had been locked up.
The thought of prison makes him grit his teeth momentarily, but the moment passes quickly as his eyes take in the feisty young stripper that is sitting atop his desk. His desk that cost more than the woman made in a year. His desk that cost 20 times what a successful Gotham businessman was paying outright for a new dodge or Buick. He allows all thoughts, other than those circulated around his personal wealth and success, to flow freely out of his mind and his mood instantly returns to that of a more chipper attitude. Now! back to business.
"Life is good!" he says, "Now only if this peon-schmuck would show up with that suitcase full of cash, we can get on with this little.. transaction.. and life will be even better!" He cackles and pulls a satchel of diamonds from his vest and drops it on the pedestal of his fancy desk. The diamonds are fresh off the U-boat that sits anchored only blocks away in the Gotham River. Business had been very lucrative in the few short years since the Nazi's had been defeated and rousted from Africa. It had left things very open for such a powerful crime lord as himself to set up shop. And set up shop he had.
Max Chilton sat to his right, legs crossed and resting on the edge of another less expensive desk, the fat stub of a Cuban cigar jutting from his lips. The Chilton brothers had been very helpful in running things for him. Max Chilton handled his affairs on the streets of Gotham these days, and his brother Joe acted as overseer of the actual operations end of the diamond smuggling gig. Joe had come up in rank quickly while Lex had cooled his heels in prison, acting as a hitman and cleaner, taking out all of the Mafia bosses lose connections and competition. By the time Mr. Moron had been released from the pin Joe had become a made man, and he had brought his brother along for the ride.
A chandelier that cost more than all of the occupants in the room, other than Lex and Max, had ever seen in their life hung from the center of the room. It was tastefully crafted of white gold, silver, and encrusted with diamonds. The chandelier dangled above a table near the heavy wooden double doors with iron banding that had been installed into the steel rebar reinforced concrete walls on the front side of the office. The woman lounging on Lex's desk could not keep her eyes from the twinkling diamonds of the chandelier.
4 men armed with over sized revolvers and SMGs sat playing cards and stuffing their chubby faces with ridiculously large sandwiches. The veins in their thick necks bulged as they strained to fit their food into their mouths. The scene would have been comical if not for the amount of weapons and booze present. Lou was just clamping his jowls down, which were oddly reminiscent of those of a bulldog, onto his ham and turkey, as a set of explosions violently blows the heavy wooden doors from their hinges and sets them into a spinning motion through the air headed right towards the table of card playing goons. It is the last thing he ever sees.