NeutralNexus

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

“Pulse, something’s hitting my systems, I think the mech is trying to>KSSSSHHHHKSHSKH<”

Those were the last words from Warden following Equilibrium’s finger gun, at which point War-Pulse found himself momentarily keeling over and holding his ear, wincing at the sound of howling and screeching static. He should have guessed that a man who made his own mech would have some sort of armament for cybernetic warfare. The mercenary could not pinpoint what happened to Warden per say, but he could guess that Equilibrium took him out of the fight for the remainder of this conflict.

However, there was no time to worry about the momentary loss of his info broker, as he now was being fired at by the powerful machine-gun. A quick burst erupted from his body, hurtling him away from the original array and tumbling into a ready position. However, the mech was faster than its bulky appearance let on, and before War-Pulse was able to mount a counter-attack he was met with the continued volley of the machine-gun rounds. Almost immediately he was being pushed back by the impacts, yelping in shock as the bullets puffed into him. The exploding rounds thundered off of his form as a cloud of smoke began to billow around the mercenary, body jolting back with each collision.

However, it was not the end for War-Pulse, not by a longshot. His foot crashed down, embedding itself in the tar to stop being knocked backward, his forward facing arm bringing up a kinetic barrier to take the continued fire.

Once he regained his bearings, he found himself rather pinned by the gunfire. The machine had a lock on him, and because he had misjudged the speed, he now found that he was trapped behind the kinetic barrier he had erected, as he could not get the speed to avoid being tagged again by the opponent’s targeting system.

This was only momentary, as the wheels in War-Pulse’s head already had begun to turn, the adrenaline of combat pumping through his veins as he prepared to counter this predicament.

His free hand extended from his body, kinetic force coalescing to his palm, crackling and humming as it built up in his fingers. He brought his hands together, the barrier he created suddenly humming and warping, War-Pulse’s body beginning to illuminate with a blue light, which intensified at the wrists.

“Alright, enough with the friggin’ pea-shooter, already!” He yelled out, shoving the barrier forward to convert it into a mighty wave of kinetic energy, a wide-area projectile with an explosive punchline of his own, tearing through the machine-gun fire as if they were pebbles against a brick wall.

While he had hoped this projectile would make contact, he did not have the highest hopes that it would. An experienced opponent would see an attack like this coming, and War-Pulse’s attuned sense to kinetic force meant he could feel Equilibrium’s jump jets already powering up. He did not need the blast to hit, however, he just needed Equilibrium to react to his attack for a second, just enough to force him to stop firing on his position. The ground beneath his feet was torn apart as his back let loose a kinetic burst from his back, rocketing him forward at an alarming speed. The mercenary’s movement pattern was erratic, the kinetic bursts changing his direction on a dime. With every step, craters were formed from the sheer force of his momentum changing direction, rocks and rubble kicking up as the blue glowing blur advanced towards his foe. With one final push, he launched himself forward, rocketing towards his foe with an intense velocity.

Within two seconds, he had passed the Mech’s estimated strike zone, and it was War-Pulse’s turn to deliver the offensive.

“Now let’s see how tough that tin can really is!” War-Pulse cried, Kinetic energy flared off of his elbows, sending the mercenary’s fists toward Equilibrium with an enhanced velocity. He took three shots, the first two being a right cross and a left hook at the faceplate of the mech, intending to momentarily stun it. Following his momentum, he pivoted in the air to deliver an axe kick towards the top of the mech's chassis, intending to force it back to the ground, hoping he could get the mech close enough to the ground to deliver his trademark 'War-Pulse' technique, an energy strike he had developed a long time ago.

Once he touched back to the ground, hoping that the mech was at least within range, his right arm began to crackle and sizzle, air distorting around it as he once more tried to move within the machine-gun’s firing arm once more. He had done this attack so rarely, but he had to end this battle quickly, and out of the entire energy based combat style he had developed, this one put down enemies the quickest.

Once he got within range and his footwork in place, he twisted his body to apparently gain more momentum on the strike, the crackling arm only increasing in intensity as he pulled it back, almost mounting it in the form of an open palm strike aimed at the chest of the mech. It was clear the kind of devastating power that was within this strike, the air around his arm almost entirely distorted.

“Oh, and the name? It’s War-Pulse!” Trent revealed, his other arm providing a sight to the target. “Let me show you why!”

And in that instant, War-Pulse’s body snapped the palm forward, his hips twisting to launch the palm. What resulted was a deafening palpation of pure kinetic force launched out of his palm and into the air between the two combatants, completely pulverizing the ground and rippling through the air between the combatants. This was a modified energy blast, condensed and overcharged in War-Pulse’s arm to create a much more devastating impact at close-range once released. This was clearly the ‘War-Pulse’ which Trent got his namesake from, as there was no other attack like it in War-Pulse’s repertoire. This was not the strongest one he had ever delivered, not by a longshot, but there was no doubt its power as the surrounding area also reacted to the impact, the force of the pulse tipping nearby cars and toppling telephone poles.

As the kicked up dust began to settle, the glowing warrior advanced once more on his opponent, hoping he had at least made a dent in his opponent’s armor.

“And there’s a lot more where that came from!” The mercenary called out to Equilibrium. “You’re playing with the big leagues, now!”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

War-Pulse post is coming up within the next 24 hours! I'm trying not to post it too much so people get a chance to interact around what's going on.

Cowl post coming within the next week.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Though I'll likely have the PC being a meta human if that's alright. I don't know if Crowl only hires humans, metas or a mix of everything as I want to give Justine a bit of a challenge for her fight else it will be over in very little time. Though by that time Racheli will hacking up black blood.

@Fallenreaper

I can inform you right now that the Shroud Syndicate is an "equal opportunity employer". :P

Also, I keep seeing this thing about a 'chat'? I feel dumb for asking, but what are we talking about here. >.>

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

@Fallenreaper I liked the idea of the Shroud encroaching on Racheli's apartment, if that helps. Anything with Gene Co. is also available, you said you had plans for it, so if you give me a bit of leeway we could explore some avenues. And while you already said dealing with Umbraxis is a no no, I never meant for you to confront it. No, its inquisitive, it may simply be curious about Racheli, see some potential she doesn't, simply follow or guide her to some untold potential.

Y'know, just throwing ideas out with the characters I have control of, if you're looking for avenues. ._.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Alright, cranked out a War-Pulse post, and the gauntlet is thrown!

There should be an Umbraxis post coming soon, but we got a lot going on right now, so we'll see how active he is in the immediate future.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

The infiltration of the Water Treatment plant had almost been a joke, in the back of his mind, War-Pulse surmised he probably could have walked right into this place in full costume and not a single person would have noticed. Warden was absolutely right in his original assumption in this place, a heavily guarded compound it was not. There were no armed officers walking the halls, just a fat security guard named Dennis slobbering over a greasy donut. Most of the cameras were working, but it wasn't like anyone really reviewed them, War-Pulse wouldn't have been surprised if they still were recorded on VHS tapes.

This is not to say the Plant was out of date, however. On the contrary, the place was very well kept and arguably quite up to date. The hallways were painted a spotless creamy white, the tile floor absent of dents or scratches, clearly buffered often by the janitors to the point where the florescent lights flashed up and into Pulse’s eyes. The equipment was pristine and spotless, sanitized at least every four hours. On top of that, there was a room before each treating room designed for decontamination, equipped with spare uniforms, gloves, and boots. It was only security that the establishment fell miserably short. It was just water after all.

Still, War-Pulse found himself woefully over prepared for this mission. He had wore his battle suit underneath the Electrician disguise in case anything got too hairy, his scarf actually being laughed at by some of the workmen who noticed him as he walked by. A few people had asked him where the other electrician was, who was apparently named Eric, but simply saying that Eric was under the weather was enough to throw the other Plant workers off of his trail, and even gave him free reign of the building. He had faked a few maintenance checks, hit a few buttons, pretended to write important notes down on a clipboard.

It didn’t take him long to reach the reservoir, not more than ten minutes went by before he found himself standing above the treated water, now being flooded out to the city. He made a few glances around the room, the people there were either too busy to notice him or simply not watching the disguised mercenary, a perfect time for him to act. He inconspicuously reached into his pocket, pulling the vial he brought with him from the cloth garment, the neon green fluid jostling around in its tiny container. Popping the safety seal, he gave another glance around the room, making sure nobody is any the wiser as a quick flip of the wrist sent the liquid careening into man-made river below, the small splash unheard by the surrounding workmen.

With his job done and three other vials waiting for him in the dumpster outside, a smirking War-Pulse began to make his smooth escape. However, that was when there was a loud crash coming from outside followed by a rumbling that shook the entire foundation, causing the mercenary to stumble a little bit. His eyes widened and his attention turned to the panicked workmen, watching them as they gathered to the outer halls, more appropriately to the hallways with windows looking outward. What had happened outside? Was there a big car crash? Had there been an explosion?

The original thought for the mercenary was to use this distraction to get the hell out of there, make his escape even easier than before. However, the attempt was quickly dashed once the culprit of the rumbling began to speak, through what sounded like a mechanized megaphone loud enough to pierce the admittedly thin walls of the Treatment Plant.

"Hey, whoever ya are in there, get out. I dunno what a meta would want with the Water Treatment plant, but its probably not good. So geddout."

@Athinar

At those words, War-Pulse’s eyes could not help but widen in surprise. Had someone found him out? He knew he had not been exactly the most subtle, but had someone really bothered to sniff him out?

“Warden?” War-Pulse grabbed a hold of his comm link, trying to get a read. “What’s outside right now?”

“That would be a two storey tall mech with a cannon pointed directly at you.” Warden replied, the sounds of clacking keys once more crossing over the comm link.

“What do you mean at me? I’m inside the building.”

“I hacked one of the street cameras outside and one inside the building, assessing the hypothesized trajectory of where his gun is, he’s pointing it directly at you, despite not being able to get a visual.”

“What? How is that possible? And how come you didn’t tell me there was a mech out there until now?”

“I didn’t tell you because it literally just dropped down, I was about to inform you, but clearly the person driving the mech already had the pleasure of doing so.” Warden said, his blunt manner of speech belied the humor in his sentence. “As for how it knows you’re there...have I ever told you that you are easily detectable on a both Geiger Counters and Energy Readers?”

“Wait, what?” War-Pulse audibly stammered out, causing some of the civilians nearby to look at the strange mercenary apparently talking to himself.

“Yeah, you glow like a christmas tree.” Warden added. “You’re a walking kinetic battery, it’s nearly impossible to ignore that.”

“And you never informed me before?” War-Pulse turned on a heel, glaring down the hallway as his face contorted to an annoyed frown.

“It never came up, nobody we’ve ever fought carries such devices. Plus, we aren’t usually hired for stealth missions, so there’s never been a worry for such things.”

The disapproving frown remained plastered on the merc’s face for only a few seconds, but it was not long before his lips contorted into an eager smile. “Pft, whatever, if someone wants to call me out, I’m sure as hell not going to disappoint.” He said, ripping the electrician’s disguise off of his body, revealing the silver and black battle suit underneath, zipping the facemask back up over his mouth, much to the shock of the surrounding technicians. “It’s about time I had another fight on my hands, I was getting bored.”

“I’d advise caution, we don’t know what this thing is capable of.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” War-Pulse confidently teased, cracking his knuckles as he pushed open the double doors leading outside, the security guard at the gate knowing better than to get into Pulse’s way. “Just see what you can gather on your end, I’ve got some metal to scrap.”

Shoving the doors open, the appropriately attired superhuman traipsed out onto the concrete, coming into full view of the mechanical interloper. Warden was again entirely accurate in his description, War-Pulse now having to look up to face the colossal mecha. However, that did not give him pause when he addressed it, as very little actually does.

“Ohohohoho, now that’s what I’m talking about!” War-Pulse praised, gesturing to the machine in front of him. “That is an impressive piece of machinery, you look like something straight out of a video game, hot damn!” He crouched low, delivering a slow whistle as one would when observing an expensive sports car for the first time. “What kind of deal did you score on that? They don’t hide these in the back of a Best Buy for the VIPs, do they? I mean, with this kind of town, I’m thinking either alien tech or a custom build, that anywhere in the ball park?”

At this point, his movement was slow, calculated, the mercenary taking the time to size up his opponent. While War-Pulse couldn’t make out any other armaments other than the arm mounted cannon pointed at him, he did notice that several points of the mech sported extra plating, as if they could be moved to reveal other surprises. Remembering the last battlesuit he confronted, he surmised a battle plan of aggression might be the best option, the less tools his opponent used, the better for him.

“However, did you really have to be so blunt with the ‘meta’ thing?” War-Pulse continued, raising his arms to the Unnamed Armor as he rose to a standing position. "You clearly have no idea what I was doing in there, by the sound of your threat. For all you know that’s my day job you just outed me to!” He began to pace as he spoke, slowly circling the robot. “I mean, let’s both be real, it wasn’t, not by a longshot, but it could’ve been! You should be more careful when calling out metas, people in this town work real hard to hide identities!”

He laughed, switching his footwork now and again while circling the mech, making sure no matter which way he walked his front would be facing the mech suit. “Bah, whatever, what’s done is done.” He added, delivering a slight shrug of his shoulders with a hearty laugh. “You found me and dragged me out into the open. But the question remains; what are you gunna do about it, tough guy?” He brought his hands inward, lowering them to a readied stance above his belt height.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

It's the only RP I'm on in this site, so yes.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

It's going to be great, there will be craters left behind when we're done, right?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

@Dedonus Yeah, you were totally fine with the way you depicted the Shroud, as one of the big gangs, people can use them for what they need, just gimme a little run by here and there if you think it'll really start affecting Shroud business.

War-Pulse post coming up next, but for now, I finally got the Cowl post out. It's not the best I could come up with, but I think I summarized all the interactions that have occurred with the Shroud, along with a chilling promise.

And to explain my capslock; I am always this excited, I just contain it well. :3

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

One day earlier….

“So we all know the plan?”

“What plan? The man up top just wants us to stir shit up, what plan is that?”

These were the words spoken by two men in the Talons, a motorcycle gang based in little china in the city of Lost Haven, adept practitioners of what were called "firebombing runs", attacking stores with an array of Molotov cocktails and retreat in into the night. Once they were nothing but small-time, a local threat and nothing more. That had changed, however, when they came into contact with the Shroud Syndicate.The powerful cartel had offered them a deal too sweet to refuse, in exchange for a kickback of their exploits and a treaty with two rival gangs in the city, the Dread Men and the Brothers in Blood. Now these three gangs, among many others, bend knee to The Cowl.

And today, that loyalty will be called upon. The Talons now found themselves arming up for a "day of free reign", word from The Cowl himself that all street gangs would have a day to forgo restraint and simply cause a bit of havoc. No treaties, no advice, just cause panic in their respective territories. The only rule being to try and avoid killing too many people, as the Cowl was always oddly protective of the common man.

"C'mon, Brett, you know the big guy always has somethin' goin' on, why would he just make a scene out of the blue like this?”

Brett grabbed his helm, wings carved into the sides, visor in the shape of an eagle. “I dunno, bro, we ain’t under the Shroud because we ask a lot of questions.” The motorcyclist picked up a heavy led pipe, taking a few practice swings with it, the hum of the heavy metal singing through the air meeting the satisfaction of the thematic gang member. “You and I both know what those guys do to people who ask too many questions. You remember the Great Dane Gang, don’t you, Garrett?”

Garrett ended up jolting to a halt to Brett’s words, shuddering as he laced up one of his boots. Very briefly he remembered coming to a meeting with the Great Dane gang three years ago, only to find the gang’s bodies strewn along their hideout. The crack house decorated in blood and bodies still haunting his mind. “Y..yeah...You’re right.”

“Of course I am, so when the fucking Cowl, THE Cowl, asks us to go out on the town and stir some shit up? I’m not going to be the asshole asking ‘derrr why should we do that’?” He jabbed a finger into Garret, causing the man to be slightly pushed off balance as he was hunting through the garage’s armaments for his favorite pistol. “He says ‘jump’ we say ‘how high?’, he says ‘fight’ we ask for a target, we say…”

“God dammit, shut the fuck up, man, I get it!” Garrett snapped, nearly turning the pistol on his comrade as he whirled around to snarl at his cohort. “I just...we got capes to deal with now! Guys in spandex who can throw cars and shrug off bullets, how the fuck are we supposed to deal with that?”

“Well, asswipe, that’s a road we cross when we get to it.” Brett snapped back, mounting his motorcycle as he spoke. A hand draped down along the chrome handles, sliding along the etchings of massive birds of prey marked along the pipes, a cruel smile draping his face as his fingers found themselves crossing over some dried blood along the tire rim, vicious memories crossing the criminal’s mind as he leaned back in the seat. “From what I know, if we find ourselves in the presence of a cape, we try and stay out of their fuckin’ way as best as you can. From what it sounded like, we ain’t going to war today, just starting the fire.”

Garrett sighed, climbing onto his motorcycle as well, pulling an iron mask over his face. With a quick turn of the key, his bike growled into action, the engine revving with Garrett’s test pulls.

“Well what are we waitin' for, then?” Garrett shouted over the engine. “Let’s go fuckin' nuts!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present day, 10:00pm

“Initial reports are coming in, mister Cowl.” Came the voice of Specter, sitting in the corner of the Cowl’s office, deep within an undisclosed warehouse in the abandoned ends of Lost Haven. Both of these shadowy players knew that at that moment, the rest of the city was broiled in The Cowl’s handiwork, a testing of the proverbial metahuman waters. The Cowl himself was looking out from the tiny window of the office, his eyes fixated on a spot he could see across the landscape of buildings and lights. He could smoke rising from within a collection of high-rise buildings, hinting on that chaos occurring deep within the city, while Specter sat nearby, keeping tabs on the city’s events on a laptop. While they were not within earshot, both could associate the sounds neccessary to simulate the situation in their minds. Fire rising from wreckage, the screams of terrorized folk, the shattering of glass and the wails of sirens, all the symptoms of a riot echoed within their minds. The compurter screen illuminated the detailed mask of the Specter, similarly attired to the Cowl himself, but noticeably different. He was wearing a robe-like suit as opposed to his boss’ stealthy attire, bits of cloth were flowing flowing and wraith-like to adhere closer to his codename.

Within this compound were a swarm of heavily armed guards, posted at every door and two positioned within the Cowl's office. These men were The Cowl’s personal hand-picked security force, some dressed to fit The Cowl's theme, attired in hoods and catsuits, kevlar and ceramic plates lightly covering and protecting them, while others had their body armor covered by well-tailored suits, their weaponry comparatively lighter than their costumed comrades. It was clear that there was varied devotion to the crime lord. To those in suits; this was a hefty paycheck with fairly decent benefits. To the hooded guards, however; this gang was their entire livelihood, a stronger bond than any family they had ever known. They had even taken to calling themselves "The Veilguard" and heavily training in military squad tactics and weapons training, becoming almost cult-like in their devotion.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, my shadow.” The Cowl’s voice echoed across the room in return, never turning away from the smoking city in the distance as he spoke. “What have we smoked out of the shadows now that we’ve set their feet to the fire?”

"As per your request, the gangs we reached out to have begun razing their respective territory.” Specter began, the faint sound of the laptop’s keys barely reverberating into the room as the second-in-command busily pulled up current news stories and articles. “Small riots have broken out in the city, fires have been set, and there is substantial property damage already, the areas you’ve been looking to purchase will most likely be cleaned out by tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, that plan was always going to go smoothly, especially with how much public destruction is going on these days.” The Cowl scoffed, waving off the report with a wave of his hand. “Are we getting the attention of any metahumans, so far? Have any come to see what they can do?”

“A few reports here and there.” Specter replied. “The night is still young, so not much of a metahuman presence has appeared. However, that does not mean we are off the hook. As you are already aware, a one ‘Jim Wilson’ vanished a few nights ago, his desk removed of all important information regarding our affairs. As the evidence was all taken away and not returned to us by the police, we are certain that was a metahuman looking to find us. We have not found this vigilante or discovered their name, so hopefully this will attract the unnamed meta’s attention.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good, but I want confirmed names, who do we have who has actively appeared?"

“We already have one name who has actively called you out.”

On those words, Cowl stopped his methodical pacing, whirling on his heel to face his lieutenant. “Excellent! Tell me more.”

With a few deft keystrokes, Specter quickly rose from his seat and placed his laptop on the desk, allowing the Cowl to get a better visual on the masked man while he spoke. “We recovered a low-rank member by the name of Charlie, one of our ambulances picked him up before the police did. He and his friend, Daniel, were found in an alleyway, beaten up pretty bad. Charlie himself was given several broken bones and internal bleeding.” Specter hit a key on the keyboard, showing a picture of the young man in the ambulance, his face and body severely bruised and bloodied by what could only be described as a severe beating.

“My, my, this fellow clearly pulls no punches.” The Cowl mused, looking over the damages on the small screen. “Who is the culprit who has challenged me so directly?”

“According to the woozy ramblings of the Charlie, his name is Lyger.” Specter said, changing the screen with another few keystrokes to show a few news articles with the titular costumed vigilante. “An active metahuman with growing popularity, this ‘Lyger’ has participated in a few major events in the past few months, including defending Lost Haven from the notorious ‘D-Day’.”

“Interesting…” The Cowl whispered, leaning onto the desk to get a better look at the man’s costume. “Do you think he’s the one who killed our Mr. Wilson?”

“Doesn’t sound like his way of doing things, he’s in the public eye, and he left Charlie and Daniel alive.” Specter replied, “From initial speculation, I don’t think this is the man who killed Jim.”

“Hmph, fair enough.” The Cowl scratched his chin, leaning back to a fully standing position as he took a few cautious steps away from the computer. “Still...he called me out...are you sure about this?”

“Charlie said that Lyger told him who he worked for, and that he was coming for that man.” Specter replied. “Whether that means he knows it is you directly, or simply another person working for you...he’s sniffing out your trail sooner or later.”

"Well, no matter,”The Cowl stated, turning to the exit of the office and beginning a quick stride towards the doorway. “We’re now aware of his intentions, it will give us the advantage when dealing with him in the future...for now. Who else do we have on the table?”

“Well, Icon just got involved, dealing with the Brothers of Blood looting in Sherman Square.”

“Oh, well who hasn’t that fellow gotten involved in?” The Cowl responded, adding a huff at the end of his sentence, causing the mask to ripple slightly. “Still...good to know he’s not just chasing the big threats. We may have to deal with him as well.”

“There is also another matter that occurred before tonight.” Specter pointed out, moving a few files on the screen to reveal security footage of a small warehouse the Shroud had a minor blackmail and extortion operation working out of. It was there to keep the strings attached to the Cowl’s fingers, allowing him to keep influence over some smaller businesses in Little Sicily. In the footage the two men could see the entire warehouse be attacked and cleared by a lone man with a bow and arrow, firing nets and stun bolts from his quiver. “The man calls himself Odysseus, a sort of homage to the Greek hero in the legend of The Odyssey.” He pointed at the bowman, dressed to fit the role of his name. “He disrupted a few of our operations like this, but luckily, he intercepted some of our dummy information, there is a good chance he will be heading to New York to try and deal with a problem that doesn’t exist.”

The Cowl gave a small laugh underneath his hood, the mask hiding his true glee at the information. “Good, let our boys in New York know that they will have a meta to deal with.”

Specter’s eyes widened at his boss’ words, twisting his torso to face The Cowl. “When did you get influence in New York?”

The Cowl laughed heartily, clapping Specter on the shoulder. “Oh, my dear, dear shadow…” The man began, moving past the lieutenant towards the empty doorway. “There is much I keep secret, even from you. You may be my second-in-command...but only here, in Lost Haven. At any rate, we have other business to carry on with, you will keep track of any new metahumans that reveal themselves, and we will get a sense on exactly who and what we are dealing with by the end of the night.”

As the Cowl got to the doorway, he was greeted silently by two of his hooded guards. The crime lord spent no time giving them a pleasant greeting, instead simply delivering an order. “Get the cars ready, and plan a route to the docks.”

At the mention of the docks, it was Specter who rose his head at the order, turning away from his computer and quickly moving to The Cowl’s side. “Uh...sir?” He asked, reaching out to the Cowl. “I know better than to question your decisions, but is now a good time to go out?”

The Cowl came to a halt, turning slightly to get an eye on his lieutenant, the eye containing what could only be described as an intense glint of excitement. “Specter, how many Police do you think are at the riots?”

“Um...well according to the reports, more than two thirds of the Lost Haven Police force has been dispatched to deal with the riots in the City.”

“You and I are also both aware that a hefty percentage of the Lost Haven Police are on our payroll. Correct?”

“Yes, that would be--” Specter stopped mid sentence, his eyes sprinting to the floor as the pieces began to come together. “This wasn’t just to get the names of our enemies...was it?”

“No, that was merely part of the plan.” The Cowl said, his voice lightning up, hinting that underneath his mask there was nothing but a smug, sneering grin plastered on his unknown face. “This was not just some buglight hoping to zap to particularly nasty locusts, this was a distraction. Every cop and every metahuman we know of is busy in the city, saving the common man and thwarting countless looting attempts, all of the police force is entirely concerned with our riots...and left the rest of the town unguarded.” He turned slowly, his stride resuming, knowing his Specter would follow. “We have an appointment in the nearby harbor, I suspect the cars should be ready now.”

“The harbor?” Specter asked, chasing his crime lord with a frantic pace, reaching out to him. “What’s going to be waiting for us at the harbor?”

Not even bothering to look back, The Cowl uttered in a defiant baritone, declaring the true intention for his dastardly scheme of the night.

“A cargo ship, we’re going to accomplish the biggest smuggling deal this town has ever seen...and then…” He turned slightly, making momentarily eye contact with Specter. “We will make this town remember why they fear the Shroud Syndicate!”