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From the large picture windows that surrounded his cavernous office which sat on the top floor of the Midas Industries corporate office, which was the second tallest skyscraper in Lost Haven, second only to the Chambers Building, Richard Midas looked out over the city that he had called home for over two decades. In his time in Lost Haven, he had seen the city change a lot, from the vast urban development that had seen the city explode in both size and population, to the rampant crime and corruption that had been synonymous with Lost Haven for so long. 

For the most part, none of that had ever bothered Midas. He had built an empire from within the city, an empire which has over the years, expanded far beyond the borders of Lost Haven and extended all over the world. He was the owner of a multinational corporation, which if it hadn’t been for his connections within the city of Lost Haven, may never have reached its potential. However, recent events within the city that he called home troubled him to the core. 

It all began, ironically, when a flying man garbed in blue and silver had caught his very own space station, which due to sabotage had fallen out of orbit and threatened to flatten Lost Haven upon its reentry into Earth’s orbit. Though he had been infatuated with the man who had become known as Icon, hoping to work with the flying strongman, his proposals had been largely ignored. 

That irked Midas. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, yet this supposed savior had rejected his invitation to work together to make the world a better place. 

Icon may have been the first, but he was hardly the last. After his spectacular debut, the so called “meta humans” cam out of the woodwork, seemingly overrunning the city, as well as making their presence known all over the world. To Midas, it was of little surprise that things in Lost Haven seemed to go from bad to worse with their arrival. 

From the devastation wrought on the city during what became known as D Day, to the riots that wrought havoc on the population a short time later. Then there was the “Nightmare” serial killer, which from what he understood, recently claimed nearly a full stadium full of college students at one of Lost Haven University’s spring football games. The death and destruction seemed to be endless, and none of the self appointed guardian angels had been able to put a stop to any of it. 

Even the most recent threat to the city, a terrorist who claims to have placed a weapon somewhere within the city that would turn all of her denizens into meta human freaks. It was this current crisis which Midas was reflecting on as he gazed out of the massive windows at the city below, watching the headlights of vehicles move through the streets, as Lost Haven’s people commuted to and from work. Midas enjoyed watching the nightly ritual of rush hour traffic, it reminded him of the struggles of the average person, always stopping and going; giving the illusion of motion, but in reality, they were simply standing still. On this night, the traffic was significantly lighter than it normally is, many of the city’s population electing to stay home, or possibly leave the city entirely, at least until the latest crisis is resolved. 

“Sir?” Midas’ manservant, Livingston said as he approached from behind. “It’s getting late, and with the current threat to the city, don’t you think it wise to go down to the bunker and wait it out?” 

Midas looked up from the street, glancing over to Livingston’s reflection in the large window. Livingston had never looked so old in Midas’ eyes as he did right now. The thin, wiry man with the graying hair which seemed to cover less and less of his head as each day passed looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. The large, dark bags under his eyes seemed to confirm that theory. Midas just smiled and allowed his gaze to fall back to the streets below. 

“The bunker? No.” Midas said much to the shock and dismay of his manservant. 

“But sir.” Livingston protested.

“There’s no need my friend. The ‘heroes’ will put a stop to the terrorists threats, and life will go on normally, uninterrupted.” Midas told Livingston.

“And if they fail?” the older man asked, unsure if his employer had lost his mind.

“They won’t. When it really counts, they never do. And even if they did fail, I win.” Midas said, almost gloating. 

“I don’t understand.” Livingston admitted. 

“Do you know what your problem is, Livingston? You have no imagination. If the entire world is suddenly turned into a freak, there will be large pockets of the population who will be dying for a cure. The will be willing to pay anything for a cure. They will be willing to kill for a cure. A cure that I will provide for them. So even if we lose, I win.” Midas explained. “But that isn’t something that we have to worry about. As I said, the heroes will put a stop to this nonsense in spectacular fashion, most likely at the last moment….like they always do.” 

“I wish I had your confidence, sir.” Livingston told him.

“And when it is all over, before the next madman can threaten our city with catastrophe, I’ll be there. I will remind the people of this city that we don’t need saviors in capes to save us…I will show them that we can save ourselves.”