[indent][u][b]7:50 PM, March 12th
Lundgrau Intelligence Services North American Headquarters, New York City[/b][/u][/indent]
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White sand gently reflected the light of the setting sun, cast pink by the fading rays. His toes dug into the fine grains easily, feeling the warmth and simply gazing out across the pristine blue waters before him. The beach stretched away to either side of him, mostly other vacationers enjoying the perfect weather. Just in the background he could hear a mandolin playing out the easy tones of "Margaritaville" and chuckled as he took a drink of his own, tasting the salted rim first and then the smoothness of the mixed drink.

"Fort Worth reports growth in the southern sectors, but I think we could still push more numbers out of our producers there and try to give Federal a run for their money."

Two gentlemen nearby discussed the particulars of their business while smoking cigars, their own drinks untouched beside them on a table. It seemed so strange to get so far away from the office and bring work along with you, so much that Raymond just smiled and adjusted his straw hat. The weather was perfect this time of year, yet despite that there weren't quite as many people around as one would expect.

"Do you really think Beretta is going to back down on the service pistol contract? They've got a contender this year, and the Army isn't happy with their last selection. Hasn't been happy with the Sig almost since they scored it."

More talk of business, it made him frown as it cut through the sound of what he swore to be Jimmy Buffet himself singing along in the background. His mood was souring slowly as the oasis began to fade just as he saw her face. She wasn't supposed to be there, she was out of place completely. Nor were the businessmen or the music. That wasn't what irritated him however, he felt bitterness that he could not remember her name but could still see her smile. So it was that when the conference room of his New York offices replaced the beachfront, he was in more of a foul mood than he had been in when the meeting had begun.

The rise of these "superheroes" was making a mess of the home defence market, people in various cities caught between arming up to the teeth from fear, and cutting back on their firearms spending. Chicago was still a hell-hole, and the city lit up in the distance could also be relied on for sales, but the rise of "Lady Arcana" out west was troubling. That one in particular had been a subject of great interest for him lately, so much so that his wife Katarina had questioned if he was one of her fanclub. She knew the truth of the matter though, but it still rankled with him.

"Beretta and Federal both will back down, as we already have the service pistol contract secured." He spoke with confidence, largely because he truly had already arranged the outcome of the DARPA contract. It had been an easy deal, just involved greasing a palm or two in the right places.

"Of course Mr. Chairman." Henry Irving paused a moment as he reviewed the docket for the night's meeting. "Gentlemen, that's all for the quarterly meeting. Please convey our respects to your regional team leaders and communicate the revised production quotas."

As one the dozen men who comprised his board of directors stood, giving a solemn nod of respect his way and began filing out the door. Most of them had a long flight ahead of them, and probably intended on stopping by for a drink on the way to the airport. Only three men remained behind, two of the board and his own personal retainer. Irving was one, as the director of internal affairs he was second in command of Lundgrau. The other was Girard Desrosiers, the frenchman who served as training coordinator for "The Sock" and also sat as part of his personal council.

"Give me a status report on Lady Arcana, Girard."

The man nodded, unlocking his briefcase and placing a few reports on the desk. All of them contained carefully collated sightings and interviews of the female sorceress, with special attention to her abilities and anything new that either contradicted or expanded upon old information. It was an impressive file all told, at least a hundred pages of testimony from witnesses, some of her foolish interviews and pictures of her in action. If he didn't know any better, he would think the stunt with the Nazi was just convenience and not her taking an opportunity to put herself out there in the world.

"She has been quite busy indeed, and from what I can see it is clear that she is the one to have inherited his powers."

"You sure about that boss? I know she said it herself in that interview, but-"

Raymond cut off Irving with a glance, taking the moment to remove his feet from the desk before him and stand. Yes, he was quite sure about it. He could feel it in his bones, the latent arcane energy surging through the veins of the Earth and empowering all who drunk from her well. The Master had passed and given her all the powers that had once been promised to him so long ago. Irving and Girard couldn't feel it of course, they didn't have the gift even if they had the faith, but they would take his word for it.

"I do not believe her to be an issue to our design, but even still send word to our teams within the area that the gangs of The Wedge are no longer necessary."

"Are we cleaning house?"

"Not yet, but if they find our decision disagreeable, then we will arrange for the police precints around The Wedge to receive a sudden influx of hardware as well as locations to the hideouts of the largest criminal organizations. That should be enough to send a message to the survivors to toe the line."

"Understood, I'll have word sent immediately. Praise Ishtar."

All three remaining men repeated the phrase as Girard Desrosiers took his leave. Raymond was still pensive, and finding his peace. Thoughts of home were beginning to come to mind, but there was still one last matter of business to attend to, one that was much closer at hand.

"Tell me about this 'Superman'. Do you think he's another one of the so-called metas out west? I know already he's not a sorceror, I would have felt the use of the arcane so close to my own home."

Irving frowned, having come up with about as much as anyone else had on the man of steel who had so suddenly arrived not long ago. All he had was his instincts, but he was conflicted on the matter.

"Not sure boss, my gut says no, but we're still seeing the beginning of this new era you talked about. Lots of strange things are happening all over, and it's hard to tell. I can pull some strings and get in touch with the DEO if you want some hard answers, but for now we're stuck just waiting for him to do something big."

Raymond nodded slowly, he had thought as much since he had arrived to the same conclusion. He did not like a hero being so close to where he worked, much less one that had a lot of variables about him. One thing that displeased him more than anything was variables. Variables could end well thought out plans without warning, wasting years of effort and turning everything on its head. At this stage of the game he could not afford that.

"Find out. Stir up the Triad and Mob in the city, get them at each other's throats and causing a scene. Draw out the Superman and see what kind of man he truly is, if he even is one. I want to know what he is capable of, so that if he can't be talked with, we can end him."

"Of course boss. Ishtar's will be done."