[center]-Finn-
-Scrap Yard Base-[/center]

The brief argument with his younger brother had left Finn tense and swimming in his own thoughts, pacing in the dimly lit, damp series of tunnels. When the feeling that he was going to turn into the Phantom of the Opera grew in the back of his mind, he decided to get some air to clear his thoughts. Entering the section of reinforced caves he had designated at his living space, Finn went through the dozen suits and chose a gray tweed suit with a plaid shirt and black tie; he grabbed a spare black ski mask just to be safe. The super uniform smelled like a camp fire in a gym and was entirely unacceptable- they needed to invest in a washing machine for their lair.

[i]'Our [b]lair[/b].'[/i] Finn thought to himself five minutes later, walking down a deserted alley in the dark.

Never before, would he would have believed that concept would have crossed his mind. A [i]lair[/i] with his brother beneath the city? It was quickly becoming a reality that needed to be reinforced and cemented into the world. Now that they were wanted criminals, they needed to make whatever home they had more secure from the outside world. Where was he supposed to find super secret contractors? Police-proof security systems? The Regels had the cash to burn, but nowhere to spend it.

Switching mindsets, Finn walked down a more populated city street, looking for something to do with the two hundred dollars he had taken from their heist. He was glad that he had let his brother go before their fight had become something bigger, but he didn't want him to meet the Architect on his own. Of course, Mikey could handle himself in a double-cross, he just hoped it didn't come to that. Passing an electronics store with the news playing replay footage of both robberies, the short man stopped to observe from an outside point of view. It was horrifying. Trying to ignore the growing nerves in the pit of his stomach, he ducked into an alley behind a bakery close for the day.

Pulse still wanted to find out what was on that flash drive- he had expected 706 to be a crate full of gold bars or priceless paintings, [i]not[/i] a single flash drive. Deciding that retracing the day would prove the most information, he slipped the ski mask on and walked to the dead end of the alley. The afternoon and evening to rest his powers was a welcome relief and made gliding just low enough between the buildings a breeze to accomplish. Compared to earlier that morning, he felt confident as he wove in and out of the closely knit structures, sticking to the shadows to keep from being seen.

Moments later, he landed on the hardware store's roof across the street from the bank. The cops were clearing out as it became later and the news was wrapping up on the corner below Finn. He recognized the reporter as Vivian Verde, a field associate for The Eye. She was an extremely attractive Hispanic reporter that often opted to go for the more dangerous scoop for the benefit of the city. Finn always appreciated her reports and listened as she finished up.

"-though by now there are speculations that [i]all[/i] of these supers are somehow involved with one another. It's hard to deny with the simultaneous robberies by super powered individuals. I'm Vivian Verde, helping to keep and eye on the streets. Back to you." Vivian said confidently into the camera, signing off in the standard fashion.

Finn watched the reporter and her overweight cameraman pack up their van and head out, the remaining civilian onlookers dispersing and going about their business. Walking from one end of the rooftop to the other, he searched for a better way into the bank other than the boarded up windows they had escaped through. Looking down into the alley that Michael and Finn had met in before the heist, he noticed someone crouched, hiding on one of the fire escapes. He instantly recognized it as the costume from one of the guys during the armored car robbery.

"Hey man, I come in peace." Finn said, repelling down and landed with the faint sound of warping metal when he landed on the fire escape.

[center]-Eudora Carver-
-The Conference Room-[/center]

Perched high above the rest of the city, a gleaming needle in the skyline, Bach's Courante played softly over the surround sound speakers hidden within the walls of the Conference Room. Eudora sat at an oblong frosted glass table with a flawlessly plated meal sat directly in front of her. She wore a long sleeve black lace cocktail dress, even though she didn't have any particular plans to go out and about town. No, she had a very important home appointment.

Two gigantic men dressed in all black walked through the main sliding doors, carrying what appeared to be a limp body between them. They dropped it, crashing loudly to the floor, and removed the black bag that had covered its head. John Bakker was revealed beneath the dark hood, his eyes wide and well-aware, his mouth duct taped closed. The room remained silent, other than the pleasant sound of the orchestra in the background.

"Liver." She finally said. "Just like my mother used to make. Salt. Pepper. Butter. Simple as that."

Eudora's business rival had been left nearly lifeless after a series of strokes over the years; with her obsession with youth, it was almost like sitting with a reminder of her own mortality. Finishing one more bite of her elegantly plated meal, the Godmother laid her gold plated silverware against the plate and folded her hands against her chin in thought. Finally, she nodded and the 

"A bag over the head? Tacky."

"I know, call me nostalgic, but I like it." She said. Getting up and stepping away from the glass table and chair as it sank into the floor's retractable framework. The entire room was capable of moving and shifting according to the slightest facial or body recognition programming; to most, it was almost like magic.

"I know this is your building, Carver- I know it's you!" Bakker said, spitting his words at her. "You don't own all the police, I'll have you locked up and ruined."

Eudora didn't speak. She began to move her pointer finger like a conductor and the surround sound corresponded by turning up the classical music slightly. She descended from the five-tier elevated platform that shrank like an accordion with every step she took toward Bakker. Only inches from him, the Godmother crouched down in her heels and cupped the back of his head with her perfectly manicured hand. 

"I have something to tell you, wheels." She said calmly, happiness in her tone. "After all the sick days and reclusive research lately, it was fairly easy to do. I spoke with the board this evening . . . you've been proclaimed mentally and physically incapable of continuing to act as reigning CEO. You're out, Johnny. Early retirement. I should be saying [i]'Congratulations'[/i] really, but-"

Bakker spit directly in her face, cutting off Eudora's words as she closed her eyes but didn't jump back or over-react. Wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve, a sneer played at the corner of her mouth, the warmth and fun draining from her face.

"Carver Industries will begin the hostile take-over of Genetico, and all other corporations therein." She said, her tone dripping with new malice. "I'm gonna sell The Tower- your life's work for [b]scraps[/b] and make damn sure you're forgotten by next year. From this moment on, you're Patient Zero."

Without another word, the black bag was shoved over Bakker's head as he was picked up by the two massive body guards; muffled screams mixed with the subtle strings of the orchestra. Eudora held out a hand, instantly a small robotic arm placed a lit cigarette between her fingers, which she took a deep drag from, exhaling in a silvery cloud. Even though there was no one left in the room, she spoke confidently into the night.

"Welcome to Phase Two."