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It did not take long for the ensuing commotion to catch the attention of the criminal kingpin, who had stayed outside for a bit after his chat with GeneCo’s CEO.  The Cowl sighed in disappointment, his men now hunched over in anxiety, clutching their guns tighter to their chests as the ghostly sounds and chill temperatures swept through the rooms.  These were tough men, some ex-military and others were long-time multiple felons, men who had killed and fought for money, power, and sick pleasure.  Seeing them now reduced to sniviling cowards at the temperature dropping could only discourage the Cowl, and he hoped it would not affect their performance too harshly, as he needed them at their best if all was to go smoothly.

“W-w-w-wwhat’s happening?”  One of the men asked, cold sweat beginning to formulate on his brow. 

[color=a0410d]“We’re being attacked, of course.”[/color]  The Cowl responded, his tone unwavering as he walked towards the containment unit, his eyes fixated on Racheli as he spoke.  [color=a0410d]“Which is to be expected.  It seems our dear Racheli either has very powerful friends or others have caught the scent of such a hot commodity among our collection, though I am much more willing to go with the former.”[/color]

“What?  W-w-well what do we do, boss!?!”  The man asked, the volume in his voice increasing as the panic begin to really take hold. “We can’t fight against magic and superpowers!”

[color=a0410d]“Not toe-to-toe we can’t, I’ll give you that.  We are severely outgunned from the what I’ve seen about the intruders, we do not have the tools to face them head-on.”[/color] The Cowl said, turning on his heel to face the other men in the room.  He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he spoke, freeing up the access to the plethora of tricks he kept on him. [color=a0410d]“However, we have the homefield advantage, knowing every nook and cranny of this establishment we should be aware that this is no ordinary Ironworks.  We keep the terrain to our advantage, utilizing hit-and-run tactics until Gene Co’s men can come to assist, utilizing the many defenses I had installed here to keep the enemy on their toes and force them to come in stupid.”[/color]

The Cowl gestured to one of the men. [color=a0410d]“You, I want you to radio the other men to pull them back in the building, use the ground to make them come to us.”  [/color]He turned his attention to another man. [color=a0410d]“Activate the hidden turrets in the hallways, they may be small and for personnel only, but we can use them as proximity alarms to keep an adequate location on our opposition.” [/color] 

The men scattered to the Cowl's beck and call, following his orders as they had a hundred times before.  As Odette began to chase after one of the witches, The Cowl was quick to stop Specter before he followed suit. [color=a0410d]“It’s time for you to use your full potential, these enemies cannot be underestimated, but you are always one of my aces in the hole.  Do what you do best.”[/color]

Specter stared at his leader, letting the order process for a moment before nodding in response.  As soon as the Cowl let go of his right hand man, the being disappeared into thin air in the blink of an eye.  The sound of footsteps only echoed for but a moment before the boss’s ghost had made his way into the hallways, most likely armed and extremely dangerous.  Very few men had seen Specter’s powers, and when the right hand man disappeared, a few of the goons even jumped in surprise, as Specter had been sort of an urban myth before he joined the Shroud many years ago.  Undetectable by infrared, sonar, radar, or any other form of visual confirmation, the Shroud Syndicate lieutenant had been one of the Cowl’s most profitable investments, and one of his prized assassins. Perhaps even magical detection could even be trumped by Specter’s invisibility.

Nevertheless, the Cowl had more to plan, now that he could hear more commotion in the hallways.  The sounds of shattering glass and gunfire erupting through the Ironworks.  Snapping his fingers to grab the attention of a few men, he motioned to the cage as he spoke. “Get that over one of the molten kilns, I do not want her getting out and if heat is her weakness, then we keep her sweating, understand?”

The men nodded, hurriedly holstering their guns to obey the crime boss’ orders.  The Cowl himself, however, ducked away as soon as he ordered the move, swiftly beginning to pass into hallways in an attempt to make himself hard to track.  Of course, he knew this Ironworks like the back of his hand, it was a terrific front for the drug trade he was conducting in the basement, and as such it was almost second nature to maneuver around the building.  Reaching into his coat pocket, he began pulling one of his favorite small tricks to impede the progress of these interlopers.  

Small military-grade remote mines.  He had them custom made to add to the multitude of armaments he kept on his person, using them typically as throwing projectiles.  However, for now, they would serve well as door guards, posted on numerous portals throughout the factory.

But he could not stop there, already the enemy was entering his home and he had much to do.  He began to follow the sounds of fighting, moving swiftly between the dim lights, the grace and agility utilized was much more professional than one would suspect of someone who was considered a simple criminal.  While he had no doubt the original assault was causing hell for his men, he suspected the true meat of the assault was yet to come, and that would be when all his traps and tricks would come into play.

Besides, Specter was already upon the magical intruder.  Silent and stealthy, the metahuman phantom drew a dastardly blade from his coat pocket, keeping his firearm holstered for when it would be needed, as the sound would give away his attack.  The lieutenant had headed straight for the sounds of fighting, knowing full well the Cowl had entrusted the task of preventing the first wave to him.  He caught sight not too long after the pipes began to burst, seeing the conflict from a nearby scaffolding.  A single man had entered wielding a duffel bag and a wooden stick had charged straight in, causing numerous problems for the men in the front with a stream of violent and aggressive curses, with pipes bursting in his wake and flames shooting up around him.  Screaming, burning bodies began to collapse in this man’s wake, cutting a small pathway for others to presumably follow.

A path that would only end in ruin.  Specter was already stalking him like a walking carcass, gliding through hallways with his blade drawn, he knew exactly where to head this mage off.  There was no sense approaching him from behind, clearly from the look of the bullets deflecting off of thin air, Specter had to guess that something was already protecting him.

But his front seemed relatively undefended, and that was where the Specter would strike.  Another long corridor awaited the oncoming mage, ending in the chamber where Racheli was now suspended over a large, molten kiln, the red glow highlighting the chains now hooked around the cage to keep her teetering back and forth over its glowing mouth.   At the end of this corridor Specter would wait, keeping his back to the wall and the blade in his hand, the sound of the witch getting ever closer.

Specter could hear it now, twenty feet.  Fifteen.  Ten.  Five.  The man was sprinting to his very doom.

As the mage came bursting through the door, he would be met by his invisible foe, intercepting him with a tackle to take him squarely off his feet, as the blade driving squarely toward his ribs.

If all went well with the ambush, the blade would pierce his very heart.