[i]Lord Death Man[/i]
[i]The Secret Lair[/i]

It's funny how different crime is across the world. How the demographics and geographical quirks of a nation can influence how you build your empire. For example, Japan's unique magnetic field makes it the Eastern hemisphere's safest landing zone for extraterrestrial craft. That's how you get immigrants. The magic flowing through the land can turn something as simple as a broken umbrella into a monster. That's how you get yokai. The low birth rate, arranged marriages, and background radiation leads to a relatively homogenous population. That's how you get one of the world's highest occurence of dormant metagenes. And the culture of strictness, of conformity, of xenophobia? That's how you get criminals. And a nation of the ostracized, from alien refugees to human criminals, searching for acceptance? That's how you found them a family. That's how you made Yakuza.

That's what Lord Death Man did, anyway. It's how he'd worked his way up. But now, here in Gotham, he had to start small. Well, small compared to a nation-spanning criminal empire delegated to four subordinates. For now, they needed to get their numbers up. To make sure they had an advantage over Gotham's rabble. Lord Death Man walked alongside an elderly Japanese man with pale skin and wild grey hair. The two chatted back in forth in Japanese as they slid between the banks of computers surrounding operating tables. 

<<[color=black]"Talk to me, Doctor Reaper. How are your boys settling in?"[/color]>>

<<"Better than expected, my lord. The Super Science Network has resumed our efforts to created altered humans. We've almost completed the transformation for the one you requested, but we're a ways off from any other specimens. We've made a bit of progress on the supers' gear, but... well, the technology's old, and hard to find, even on the black market.">> 

<<[color=black]"Don't you worry about the tech. We'll get on that when the time comes. Just focus on getting Little Mori back on his feet."[/color]>>

Little Mori was currently on life support. The dimwit apparently thought the moniker of "The Immortal Lord Death Man" was just hype and jumped on a grenade when one of Death Man's traitorous underlings tried to off him. Well, with his lungs and arms gone, there was little option other than cybernetic replacements. Sighing, Death Man moved on, heading down a corridor to the east.

This was easily the spookiest part of the facility. Broken paper doors, cracked pottery, earthen floors, and the sounds of grinding stone and ghastly moans. Of course, you put up with a good deal of unpleasant architecture when you housed yokai. That didn't mean it was a pleasant place though. Bizarre creatures, ranging from a tiny man made of broken dishes to a gang of lizards in samurai armor, walked along the corridor, saluting as he passed. A towering red-skinned man with unkempt hair and a tiger-stripe suit bowed as Death Man approached a common room, several cardboard boxes piled up by the walls.

<<[color=black]"Alright, Hibiki, how're your boys settling in?"[/color]>>

The giant cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his head.

<<"Honestly, boss, the trouble's getting everyone to stop drinking long enough to unpack.">>

Death Man sighed, pinching the bridge of his skull-mask's nasal track. Day one and already the monsters were falling into their old habits.

<<[color=black]"Just... I know you're talking about the oni, but they need to sober up and get ready too. We're going to need to scout out the local underworld to see what's what. Break a few legs, crack a few skulls, check the leylines, that sort of thing. You think your boys can handle it?"[/color]>>