“You’re not afraid of Pax Metahumana?” “Of course not, Specter.” Came the smooth voice of The Cowl, reclining in a large leather seat as he watched the news on a wall-mounted television with a few choice members of the recent ‘Renaissance Project’ in a lounge located in one of his nightclubs on the south side of Little Paris. The club had been recently renovated after being bought out by its previous owners, reopened under the name ‘Vagrant’s Paradise’. It was large, ritzy, the Cowl’s party sitting over in one of the more secluded off-center area that was a mere fraction of the VIP part of the Lounge, a balcony overlooking the rest of the property illuminated by warm, peach colored lights.
“The entire caped community is up in arms due to the threat, which in and of itself was a poor choice to reveal to the world. Why did he bother explaining his plan on national television? That attracts so much unwanted attention, the fool might as well have just turned himself into the police.”“But the threat of everyone becoming metahuman...is that not a worry to you, sir?” Specter said, gesturing to the TV in the lounge room.
“There is the possibility that those we have influenced would be able to level the playing field with newfound powers...”“Even better,” The Cowl said, leaning backwards in his chair, the hood slowly coming off to reveal his detailed mask, securing his true identity at all times as usual.
“If his plan actually succeeds, we have a whole new market to play, with a whole new group of buyers. This...this man thinks he’s going to level the playing field by making everyone metahumans?” He waved Specter off, scoffing audibly.
“He’s just creating a new arms race. Mutations replace munitions, augments replace armaments, illegal genetic manipulation will become the new AK-47 of the weaponized world. If his plan succeeds, he isn’t stopping men like us, he’s helping us take advantage. Do you know how much our investments in genetics will skyrocket? The work we’ve put into places like Gene Co as well as the smuggling job that was accomplished will put us in prime position for this new world of contraband. Trust me when I say this; the Shroud Syndicate has nothing to fear from Pax Metahumana.”“I...wish I had your confidence boss.” Specter replied, shifting uneasily, exchanging glances with some of the more worried guards in the room.
“Everything’s a market, Specter. I didn’t get to where I am without seeing opportunity everywhere I go.” The Cowl returned to a reclining position, beckoning over a man with a dossier by the mere snap of his fingers.
“That being said, while every Cape is busy in town, this gives us ample time to discuss another issue.” He swiped through a few pages of info before handing the papers to Specter, revealing a few news articles and reports on a single man, one of the heads of a corporation by the name of SuperIOR, the articles seemed to cover a man by the name of Jack Grey.
“Mr. Grey?” Specter replied, picking up the papers and flipping through them, the files covering up to the last few years of his time in SuperIOR, making big business moves and moving the company forward.
“You have been keeping a file on Mr. Grey? Why He’s been one of our best inside men on the technological market for years, letting us smuggle countless SuperIOR tech out.”“Because of all the things that Mr. Grey possessed between a stable, profitable career, a loving family, and a cunning business sense, there was one thing I always knew he lacked.” The Cowl replied, his typical calm demeanor only indicating disappointment as he spoke.
“A backbone.”“Has...he become an issue, sir?.” Specter replied.
“Regrettably so, our old friend Jack Grey has exposed you and everyone who works for me in his little corporation to his boss.” the Cowl said, the attitude of the room becoming extremely cold as the armed thugs shifted uneasily, the lounge waitresses shivering a little as they heard The Cowl’s tone go bitter.
”My other inside sources say that under duress, Mr. Grey has gone ahead and revealed who on SuperIOR’s payroll are taking our money to look the other way and let certain tech go missing.”“That’s...incredibly dangerous. Many of our inside operatives are now jeopardized.”“And such a waste of good business potential, too. The kind of money that tech would sell for...” The Cowl said, shaking his head.
“I had really hoped we could keep Mr. Grey around for a bit longer, but unfortunately he has burned a bridge he cannot hope to rebuild.”“So how would you like to deal with his actions?”“I need to send a message.” The Cowl began, placing his hands together as he leaned back in his lounger, staring out the city
“I may not have powers like most of these metahumans parading about the city, but you do not betray the Shroud and get away with it, not in this city.” He motioned to a few of the men sitting around the lounge, who immediately turned their full attention to the lounging crime lord as he called for them. Three men came to his attention, the first one Paulo “Osprey” Juarez, leader of the biker gang known as ‘The Talons’. He was followed by Harlow “Slickshot” Toms and Dennis “Great White” Evans, leaders of The Brothers in Blood and The Sharks, originally enemies who had all had a truce when the Cowl stepped in, becoming lieutenants in the streets.
“The three of you will send the call through the streets, let the city know that there is an open bounty on Jack Grey’s head. I’m offering $3 Million to the man or woman, metahuman or otherwise, who brings me the CEO’s head. That will be increased to $4 Million if they bring him to me alive, and $5 Million if they make SuperIOR suffer for it.”“Sure thing boss.” Dennis replied, placing a toothpick in his filed teeth. “We’ll send it to all corners of the city. Knowing you, Jack’ll be dead by dawn.”
“Let us all pray that he is.” Said the Cowl, grumpily gesturing the three of them to disperse in a panicked hustle before turning his attention back to his lieutenant, returning to an upright sitting position as he spoke.
“While that’s being taken care of, we can discuss the other matters at hand.”“You mean the Cancer?”“Yes, though the Cancer has been awfully quiet since he sent his message, which is the most concerning.” The Cowl muttered, bringing a hand to his chin in contemplation.
“This worries me terribly, his operations have gone silent even from my moles, who I’m starting to presume are dead.”“You think he’s planning something?” The Specter asked, sitting in the lounge chair next to the Enigmatic Capo.
“I know he’s planning something, I just don’t know what yet.” He replied, his gaze staring off to the nearby jazz band serenading the sizeable lounge area of the club, illuminated by warm, peach colored lights.
“I want to keep the family prepared, but with a man like the Cancer there is very little we can do until he acts. I’d rather focus on keeping our operations working rather than hunting for a man like that, which means we need to claim more assets.”“I may have a few solutions.” The Specter replied, a smile crossing his face.
“Since our smuggling operation I have had a few ‘talent scouts’ placed around the city, looking for any potential recruits we may have missed. I’ve come up with a few potential results of both human and metahuman persuasion."“Oh?” Said the calculating Crimelord.
“And what have you found?”“The Brits have just stepped foot in our town, and they’re hungry for power.” The calculating crimelord was focused on the lovely woman singing as he spoke, her sultry voice taking the formerly present anger out of his voice.
“They go by the Enigma Gang, a group originally based in Britain and has since made a move in Lost Haven. I have a source they they took out the Brown Rat Gang, which is a bonus for us as they had been holding out one of the docks for a long time, so that alone allows them to have an audience.”“An audience, yes, but why should I be ask for a working partnership with a subsidiary?”“Because there is a metahuman among them.” Specter said, causing the Cowl to shift slightly in his seat.
“Her name is Josie, but she is referred to as ‘The Red Reaper’ by some of their gang. A white-suited woman who did most of the killing on the aforementioned ‘Brown Rat’ job.”“Is she a confirmed metahuman?”“My source down by the docks said she sliced a man clean in two with a blade that appeared from nowhere.”“Hmmm…” The Cowl said, scratching his chin once more.
“I don’t know if that’s necessarily a confirmation, but still a worthwhile investigation nonetheless, the more metahumans we can get on our side, the easier some of our operations within the city will be...is there anyone else of note?”“Well, what about War-Pulse?” The Specter suggested.
“Big name mercenary, a bit too public with his actions, but certainly feared among the metahuman community.”“We both know our situation with that braggart.” The Cowl said, waving the idea off absent-mindedly.
“He has his part to play, but directly hiring him would bring its own case of troubles.”“Then I may have a solution, a ‘War-Pulse light’ is you would would be so bold.” The two men chuckled, apparently both sharing a sense of humor as they selected potential criminal candidates.
“Apparantly there is a metahuman who is capable in a fight down in Sherman Square, has kept a low profile, but quickly is gaining a reputation as a woman who can get jobs done.”“How do you know she’s a metahuman?”“One of my talent scouts said they saw her take a lead pipe to the head and responded by ripping her attacker’s arms off.”“Good god,” The Cowl said, his eyes widening as he shook his head.
“What is her name?”“Uhhhm….Flower.”“Really? Flower? Not like ‘Face Crusher’ or ‘Strength Girl’ like the rest of these pompous tight-wearers parading around town?”“This coming from someone who calls himself ‘The Cowl’.”The Cowl chuckled.
“You know, if I didn’t have you in such high respect, that comment would cost you your tongue.”“I know,” The Specter said, giving a sheepish laugh in response.
“In any regard, it sounds like for the right price, she may be worth looking into, especially in the case of Jack Grey..”“Very well, send a contact to the Enigma gang, and send a call out for this Stephanie girl.” The Cowl said.
“I’m going to spend a bit more time here in the new lounge before retiring.”Specter nodding, raising from his seat to perform his duties.
“It will be done, sir. I’ll report back when I have the tasks in question completed.”A small nod from The Cowl, and Specter was off, leaving through the back entrance between two of The Cowl’s heavily armed bodyguards. Of course, once he slipped from view, he made sure to use the newly renovated secret exit built within the freezer of the kitchen, down to the extensive tunnels built underneath the building.
After all, why not use the massive network the Renaissance Project had produced for just such an occasion?
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“Jack Grey? Who the hell is that?” Came a grumpy voice from the overweight patron of a bar on the coastline of Little Sicily, looking out across the bay into the mainland. The bustling, albeit slightly unkempt, pub known as ‘Finnegans’ was already bustling with its usual crowd of dockworkers, scummy sailors, and general misfits, all with some manner of criminal past decorating their reputations of their bodies in the forms of scars and tattoos. The fat man, known simply as Tubbs, took a large swig from his foggy glass after he asked.
“Some bigwig CEO scrub, nuthin’ more than a salesman with a wallet thicker than his dick.” Said the barkeep, a slender, aged man by the name of Ollie Barnes, with more hair covering his chin then his head. “But I heard down the grapevine that the Cowl wants him dead.”
“The Cowl? Shit, whoever he is, he better start gettin’ his affairs in order. You don’t escape from a kill order from the Shroud, especially when it’s the Cowl himself offering the check.” Tubbs slurred back. “You get in good with a man like the Cowl, you’re set for life!”
“Yeah, but that’s a scary crowd to walk with. The Shroud ain’t for the faint of heart.” Ollie said. “I heard a guy once, said his name was Teddy or somethin’...”
“Oh yeah, Teddy ‘Tin Man’ Williamson, didn’t he used to be a patron here?” Tubbs said.
“Yeah, then he did a job for the Cowl, got real big too.” Ollie said, cleaning out one of the stained mugs with a ratty towelette, the squeaking of cloth against glass somehow still rising above the bar room chatter. “Then I heard he stole from the Cowl’s friends, a crime family in New York.”
“Oh? What happened to him?”
“You remember that ‘War-Pulse’ guy? Freak with the explosive hands on the news?”
“Yea.”
“The Cowl hired him to splatter Teddy across Little Sicily.”
“O...oh…” Tubbs replied, “Well...all the more reason to get on The Cowl’s good side, right?” The man leaned in, his spare tire rolling up to the top of the counter as he got closer. “What’s the capo offerin’ anyway?”
“Word on the street? Three Mil.”
“Holy Shit!” Tubbs exclaimed, an excited laugh sputtering out of his jowls. “That’s enough to set me up for life! Even pay that bitch of an ex-wife’s alimony checks! Or better yet, a better lawyer so I don’t have to!”
The fat man laughed once more, clapping Ollie on the back and causing the dirty mug he was cleaning to pop out of his hands, shattering along the ground.
“Tubbs, you have no idea how the law works….” Ollie sighed, grabbing for the nearby mop. “And one of these days, that blabbermouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
“Pft, no more than it already has, Ollie!” He chuckled. “I’m protected by the Dread Men anyway, what’s the worst that could happen?”
