[b]The Shroud Syndicate and Mayor Sampson[/b]

(OOC Finally got around to getting that post out Nexus. Time to stop being lazy.)

Sampson had just left the set of the Dr. Wayne show rushing to his dressing room. It had already been too long since he set out feelers for Excalibur and he needed more men and bigger muscle to locate whomever wields Excalibur by force. He quickly entered his dressing room and with his thumb and pointer finger bolted the door with a swift turn of his wrist. Sampson took a second to stop and briefly examine the room before he whipped out a sleek black phone dialing an unknown number.

"Pick up, Pick up.." Sampson said as he impatiently tapped the toes of his leather wingtip brogues, something that he probably should not do with such expensive shoes.

In a few moments, a man Sampson knew as Davis answered.

"Finally. I need more men, good ones this time. I absolutely have to have Excalibur and whomever has the damn thing, it's essential that both are brought in intact." 

"First off, it would be nice if you started these conversations with a 'hello' or 'how are you, Davis?', it really makes the conversation more of a conversation and not you shouting at me for the eleventh-billion time."  Came a voice on the phone. "Secondly, with what freedoms we have, we're doing the best we can.  The boss here keeps telling me that our territory keeps shrinking with all these new capes in town, it's starting to become more and more dangerous for us to ask around."

The man known as 'Davis' spoke in a relaxed tone, as if he was an agent speaking to his actor. "Secondly, if you need more men, what are you willing to offer us?  Your last generous donation was fruitful and the mass arrest of our enemies allowed us to take hold of some key places, but right now we still need more if we're going to send more men to gather your scrying materials."

Sampson scowled as he let a smirk rip across his face. "OH! OH! I'm terribly sorry let me start over. Hey Davis this is Sampson, and I don't give a flying fuck about pleasantries. Our deal is simple, I scratch your back; you scratch mine. And right now I have a major itch, so what kinds of itches do you have? Because I have a table full of back scratchers ripe for the picking, that's how badly I want this done. Got it!?"

"Well, if we're talking favors, I think you and I both know what the Shroud wants, and that's taking care of this sudden metahuman craze."  Davis began, talking in an insincere but polite tone, smooth in his delivery. "It is increasingly getting hard for our boys out in the field to...say...search for a legendary magical sword other unsavory activities when our gatherings and place of businesses are interrupted by some freak in a spandex and a justice complex.  Under the law, you know they're as lawless as anyone else on the street, taking matters into their own hands and whatnot."

There was a pause in the call, a moment of thought for Davis before he spoke again. "Now, we're not asking you to hunt them down and rip them apart, we both know that's going to get you in trouble without any support.  However, a bit of pressure, maybe if someone changes the public opinion of how people are viewing these..."Capes"...and maybe they'll think twice about donning brightly-colored outfits and shooting fireballs at us honest working folk.  Maybe if we get these guys off our back, we can make a bit more headway on what you want.  Do we have an understanding?"

Sampson smirked. That was all he thought as he spoke rather condescendingly. "I'd love nothing more I swear. These Capes are vigilantes, they can't be controlled, they can't be bought. You should watch Television more; just got off a show as I tried to swing a new law that'll force supers to sign up, quit or become public criminals. But it'll never get passed so long as Capes like Icon stop Demon invasions or saves the world every other week."  

Sampson paused as set workers shuffled past with haste. "So we need to hit home with these supers. Remind the people who really keeps them safe. I've been working on a project called Stars and Stripes. Place former Military men and women in special task forces, and run silent smear campaigns regarding supers. Inform them about the number of serial killers, robbers and whatnot that get a slap on the wrist due to their interference. All the collateral damage and disregard for human life. That brouhaha with the News Copter would do nicely. Anything like that. The dirtier and scandalous the better."  

“Well, that’s all well and good, Mayor Sampson, but there is a large difference between talking a big came and acting on it.  We will continue to do what you asked of us, but until we see results on this front, there are few substantial actions we can take.  Any ground you can give us will give us time to find your sword, but other than that you have to give us something to work with.  We took a lot of time and effort to help you to where you are today, don’t make us regret it.”

"Davis, we've known each other a while now right? Don't question my ability. And I won't come beating down your door. Metaphorically of course. Soon Stars and Stripes will produce Heroes renown the world over, fighting for truth, liberty and our well being. Especially our well being. Have a good day, Davis." The call ended and Sampson tucked his phone back into his breast pocket.

"Smug bastards. No matter, tomorrow will be fun. And one day I'll no longer need them." 

Staffers for the Dr. Wayne show were already moving set pieces in place for the next show slotted. Taking note of the time Sampson shuffled out of his dressing room and down the hall eyeing his assistant Julia Hewitt, a woman of average height with red hair and freckles dotting her face and neck, or so that he could tell. 

“Babe. When’s this gonna air, I wanna know what the response to the show.”

She inwardly sighed due to her employers annoying tendency to call her sexist names. But it was a well paying job one she put up with. “Mayor Sampson. It should air later in the day, at the two O’Clock time slot.”

“Good. Record it. I like listening to myself talk. Also let’s get something to eat, by we I mean me. You can sit next to me and look pretty..” - Sampson stood for a moment as Julia silently stared back at him. “What Babe!? That was a joke relax. Let’s get breakfast.”