[center][img=http://s8.postimg.org/yxi027ag5/The_Cowl_Word_Art.jpg][/center]

The jet's propellers hummed through the reinforced steel of the private jet, giving a tiny bit of background noise to the long, quiet ride of The Cowl and his best thugs, all sitting in a large communal compartment of the plane. The four subordinates sat together at a circle of comfy leather chairs with a game of cards at the table, a large pile of money sitting in the center. The four men chuckled and murmured between one another, the smell of cigar smoke beginning to burn the air as they played another hand. However, one man did not sit at that table, The Cowl was far too enthralled in his own work to play games of chance with his men. He sat away from the others, secluding himself at a solid mahogany desk, littered with newspapers of Lost Haven, every front page littered with pictures of meta-human activity, particular the recent "D-Day" invasion, as the papers called it.

"Incredible...simply incredible..." The Cowl muttered aloud, flipping through the page of a paper describing an early battle between the hero Icon and some criminals, the hero's picture at that point only being a small blur on the page.

Eventually, his peace was interrupted, a young woman came from the cockpit area, dressed in a fine silk dress and carrying a clipboard. She moved to The Cowl, waiting patiently at the man's side until he acknowledged her with a brief glance away from his papers. He sighed, motioning with a free hand for her to speak as he buried himself within another paper.

"We will be arriving in Maine in about 3 hours, sir."

"Ah, good...thank you." The Cowl said, grabbing a highlighter from the desk and etching out another sentence on the page before grabbing a second newsprint to compare the two, his eyes darting between the collection. It was not for another minute or so that he noticed the woman had not gone back to the cockpit, or to the others. "Was there something else you wanted? Or are you hovering over my shoulder because you have a problem with personal space?"

"N-no, sir, that's not it." The woman responded, seemingly shaken by The Cowl's annoyed tone. Of course, she had every right to be considering the man's reputation, The Cowl was a powerful crime lord, and she had been told before she got on this plane that he was not one for conversation while he was busy, and this was certainly one of those cases by the looks of it. Nevertheless, she spoke very curtly with him, hiting on the extreme sight of caution "I just...was curious about these heroes as well..."

Another pause, The Cowl took a minute from his paper before dropping it to the table, causing the four men at the table to snap to attention. They all now noticed the Cowl's change in positioning, his eyes now leering at the girl from behind his hood, his emotions hidden within his mask. It was a brief silence, but to the young woman it must have felt like an eternity, the five men now all glaring at her. 

 Eventually, the Cowl's body seemed to relax, he let out a small chuckle as he motioned to the papers. "As you should be, young lady, this is a once in a lifetime event." As soon as The Cowl's tone changed to a more friendly tone, the four men went back to their cards, no longer caring since The Cowl seemed delightfully amused by the woman, judging by his gesturing for her to look closer. "Well, twice in a lifetime if you were alive around World War 2, but still..." He pointed at Icon. "First this one shows up, and within a few weeks the city has exploded into a nest for superhuman activity." He pointed at another hero, one the paper called the 'Raptor', "Look at this one, a monster of some kind, possibly a hybrid of human and animal DNA." He then pointed to a woman hero, one the paper had not given a name, seeing as how she looked like she just put on whatever was available and started shooting lightning bolts at demons. "And we have people who can even harness the elements themselves...incredible, simply incredible..."

"And...that's bad, right?" The woman asked, pointing at the paper. "These people, they're putting a wrench in your operations back at home..." She looked to the man, raising a brow. "But you seem so...jubilant about the whole thing? If I may be so bold to ask...why?"

The Cowl paused, glancing back at the woman as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming together as he responded. "Because, young lady, these people give me two very enlightening revelations. One being that the impossible is real, and two, the impossible can be bought."

"You're...going to try and buy meta-humans, sir?"

"You make it sound so cut-and-dry."

"That's...I'm sorry sir, it's just...buying superhumans? I'm not sure I understand."

"That's because you're simplifying it, my dear" The Cowl swung in his chair as he responded, scooting up flush to the desk as he continued. "The truth is much more complex, but it gives the idea context. While money can indeed be used, it is not always the case in terms of 'buying' someone's loyalty. Every person has their price, every politician has the dead hooker in the trunk, every law enforcement official has the unlawful brutality they don't want getting out to the public, every celebrity has their sex tape...everyone is vulnerable once you know how to negotiate with them." 

"And you think heroes have things they want to hide?"

"Oh, I don't think, I know." The Cowl let out a small chuckle. "Identities, loved ones, weaknesses that are exploitable, all it takes is a bit of prodding, and they become another chess piece on the board." He gestured to the window."We've known a few metas existed. Hell, that mercenary War-Pulse was a great asset with our Teddy Williamson problem, wasn't he?"

"I-I think so."

"Of course, and as much of a pain in our ass these heroes will become, this isn't the end for our way of life...Far from it my dear." Another dark chuckle from beneath the hood. "This is the beginning of a new arms race, a test for how strong we really are. With the introduction of so many supers in one place, everyone will want a piece of the action. Yes, the people will herald these paragons of society as saviors...but they neglect their own failings, something we can reveal."

"You've...lost me again..."

"Do not worry, what I speak of goes far over your head, anyhow." He gave the woman another sideward glance, his fingers running along the desk as he spoke. "Just know that The Shroud Syndicate will prevail, and we will adapt to this new occurrence."

The sound of the plane's landing gear opening up punctuated the conversation, The Cowl rising from his chair to glide past the young woman. A snap of his fingers beckoned the thugs to abandon their game, following their leader to their secured seating for landing.

"Best get to our seats, then. It sounds like we will be landing soon."