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The Shroud Syndicate was far from the only criminal game left in Lost Haven, despite the extreme successes that the Cowl had managed to bring about, and the large number of rival factions he had either ruined or assimilated there were still some other players left on the board. Even before the Cowl had arrived on the scene in Lost Haven to begin with there had been a group, a loose confederation of various criminals most known for their success in extortion and robbery known as The Crew had existed. It had been a seemingly leaderless and ephemeral group run by a handful of fractious leaders when he arrived. One would have thought they would easily been absorbed or driven out, and yet there was something that had kept them from simply fading away. Conversations and negotiations with members of the organization had yielded little save that there was a leader and that he would return. 

Interrogations and attempts at coercion had yielded slightly more information but even when threatened with death few were willing to join the Cowl and most seemed to regard death by his hand no matter how brutal to be less hellish than what would befall them when, and it was always when, their leader returned. Still there had only been so much a somewhat disorganized organization could do, it had faded back into the shadows and there had been little heard from it. At least there had been little heard from it until now.

One of the few who had dared to defect and join the Shroud Syndicate was a man who went by the label of Mr. Shrike. He'd always been a shrewd man, predatory, and not afraid to take risks for what he perceived to be personal gain.He'd been one of the first and only sellouts from the Crew to join the Shroud Syndicate and he'd been rewarded for his defection. There he'd been middle management, with the Shroud he was his own boss heading a lucrative piece of the city. At first he had worried that a grisly fate awaited him after his defection, but the years had passed and there had been no retaliation leading him to believe that he had certainly made the right choice for himself. At least he had believed that until recently. 

Several members of his personal entourage who had defected alongside him had been found dead over the course of the last week. It wasn't just that they had been found dead that put him on edge though. No that privilege was reserved for the manner in which they had died. They'd been found as little more than puss and decaying flesh, something that Mr. Shrike had remembered well from the old days. He'd increased his own protective detail, stepped up patrols, and begun to consider reaching out to his new leader especially since he had heard the Cowl was coming back to Lost Haven, surely he would be able to gain protection there. 

In fact he had planned to speak to the man at the very gathering taking place this evening, and he had been about to leave his base of operations to go there when the attack had come. He had been prepared for the slug, ready for the shade, he had not been ready for the girl who walked out of every reflective surface in the compound and took the entire place prisoner all at once.

And now he found himself kneeling as the glassy simulacra of a women held a gun to the back of his head, along with the rest of his men. Someone had switched on the intercom and through the static and slight distortion classical music played.There came another sound along with the music, the clicking of metal on the hard floor as footsteps sounded and slowly grew louder. The seemingly fearless and predatory Mr. Shrike went pale as the figure who was the source of the sound came into view. The man wasn't all that intimidating looking, he wore a suit of sorts, black gloves covered his hands, the right hand clutched an ornate cane with a sphere at the top as the handle, his face was hidden in shadows cast by the old fashioned bowler hat he wore, and a lone glowing ember stood out from that shadow, the tip of a long cigar seemingly clenched in the man's mouth.

Flanking the man on his right was a veritable giant who stood at substantially over 7 feet, likely closer to 8 feet tall. He was a massive hulk of a man with pale slimy skin, a suit that was stained and discolored, hair that was long, greasy, and tangled all at once, and a bloated face. To the left was another man, this one however was barely visible as a man at all, it was more like a pillar of shadows had congealed and formed themselves into the shape of a man. With these two imposing figures at his side the central one drew closer to where Shrike knelt. 

"You should have known better." The man's voice was a horrid croak that was phlegmy and harsh at the same time. "You were a witness. You knew I would return eventually." The man took a long breath and inhaled through the cigar to draw in a thick cloud of smoke that he seemingly swallowed rather than exhaling. His right hand moved over to the left and pinched the tip of the middle finger to begin to slowly pull off the glove there.

Mr. Shrike was never above begging for his life and with his eyes wide with terror the man began to vomit forth a stream of information. "The Cowl's coming back... Spare me and I can tell you where he is... I can help you... Please god have mercy..." His babbling grew more and more desperate as the glove was slowly slid off all the way to reveal the horror that lurked beneath. The man's hand was diseased, the flesh was purple and swollen, ridden with weeping sores and blisters that oozed a steady stream of noxious puss. There were no fingernails and the tips of his fingers oozed pus from the places where the nails should have been. 

"There is..." The man's voice stopped oddly for a moment and so did the motion of his hands before abruptly restarting again. "no mercy for traitors and turncoats." The man leaned over and tilted his hat back so that his face was clearly visible mere inches away from Shrike's. The sight was truly horrifying. His face was a twisted mass of growths and rancid flesh. Oozing sores leaked onto folds of necrotic flesh and sightless eyes stared straight at Shrike's. There was no way the man should have been able to see, the growths and milky coloration of his eyes should have guaranteed that, and yet somehow he did. "You will die and you will suffer Shrike. But I will offer you a chance to speed your death and suffer less."

The terrible hand began to stretch out towards Shrike's face as the man spoke again, the long cigar still clutched in his teeth as he did so. "Tell me where the Cowl..." There was another of the pauses, more pronounced this time as the man completely froze before resuming motion again. "is and deliver my message, and I will let you die swiftly. If you do not I will let you linger in agony for days." 

Surprisingly Mr. Shrike nodded and quickly spoke, telling about the place where the party was to be held, and then begging again for his life. But the man's hand simply drew closer again and the oozing fingers gently traced a line down Shrike's cheek. "Go to your new master. Tell him I have returned." As the man drew his fingers away Shrike's face began to blister, pustules growing and spreading like wildfire across his face and then spreading down over his body. "Tell him the Cancer is back." And at those words the many copies of the girl all pulled triggers in unison and all save Mr. Shrike lay dead. The Cancer and his entourage then departed, leaving the dying man gagging and struggling to his feet as his body was slowly consuming itself.

It was several hours later when the decaying husk that had been Mr. Shrike staggered into the Cowl's party. His body had largely putrefied and reeked at the same time as pieces of flesh were sloughing off of his bones. What remained was twisted and malformed, barely recognizable as the man he had once been. He staggered into the center of the room as guests, even hardened criminals drew back in horror and drew a final breath. "He's back." The dying man wheezed out. "The Cancer has come back" And then he collapsed dead as his body continued to consume itself, melting into a sludge upon the floor.