[center][u][b]March 20th, 8:00 AM- Camelot Park, Coney Island[/b][/u][/center] After a long drive through New York's awful traffic, Death Man pulled his car into the hidden garage at Camelot Park. Abandoned around 1975, the park's medieval themes had just fallen out of the youth's interests. However, like abandoned theme parks across the multiverse, this monument to merriment had a new, far more sinister purpose! For as Death Man stepped through the service door of the garage to the walk-through tour of a medieval dungeon- complete with animatronic skeletons and "authentic" torture devices, A panel on the floor rose up, revealing an obsolete- but still quite functional- elevator that lead to his base. From outside, this lead-and-concrete structure was invisible to most forms of detection. It wasn't even in the city's municipal plans anymore- but the medieval aesthetic continued as Death man descended, finding himself in a magnificent feasting hall within... [center] [u][b]March 30th, 8:05 AM[/b][/u] [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/349390217167241217/363022275567550469/Crime_Castle.png[/img][/center] A number of skull-masked grunts milled about the room, cleaning up from breakfast. It was a busy day here in the office, and the boss had just arrived. Death Man inspected everything as he passed- wooden tables, fancy carpets, tapestries depicting the greatest of Britain's medieval criminals- from Eustace Folville's outlaw ways, to Lord Despenser The First's thefts. Yes, this was thematically appropriate for the base. There were suits of armor with axes, halberds, and greatswords. Again, appropriate, though he was unsure if they were merely decorative or if they were haunted or something. He was hoping they were haunted. Inspection continued as he entered various side doors on his way through the bunker. The labs where his inventors and scientists reverse-engineered technology and electronics were off the main path, to avoid the aesthetic conflicts of their clean, sanitary working conditions. The enforcers had their own rooms, appropriately furnished... aside from the posters, and Kid Kafka's TV. Well, he wasn't going to fault Greg for wanting a TV after Doctor Denki figured out how to pirate satellite channels. That would slide as well. Eventually, he came to a large, seemingly oaken door... with a keypad on it. He put in the code- his wife's birthday- and made his way across a regal carpet to the mahogany desk, eased himself into a vintage office chair, and logged into the 2004 desktop computer that awaited. He slapped a large folder on the desk, looking quite pleased as he flipped through it. Profits were up, as usual. He pushed the blinking button on the video chat client that popped up on his screen- a custom number that Doctor Denki had come up with. He was met with thirteen shadowed figures that promptly saluted. "HAIL, LORD DEATH MAN! Eternal is his reign of terror!" [color=black][b]"I apologize for my tardiness, men. This city's traffic is apalling. However, until we secure the sewers, we must deal with it. Let us begin the reports."[/b][/color] The first to respond is a man in a full-body suit and wrestling mask, decorated with designs of the human muscular system. [color=red]"Senketsu Joe The Fifth, reporting! Lord Death Man, the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling has announced our intention to square off with the stars of a Mexican promotion in their next Battle Royale. They have agreed to do some pushing for some of our guys. But we believe that in addition to the ticket sales, the prize for this event may be worth the Death Syndicate's attention."[/color] Death Man steepled his fingers as he leaned in towards the webcam, raising an eyebrow under his mask. Senketsu Joe was a mantle assumed by the head of the Rogue Alliance of Wrestling- a wrestling promotion he had acquired from one of the smaller families he absorbed. It had always been headed up by Senketsu Joe- a wrestler who was forever banned from the ring for being too brutal. That is to say, for bringing a knife into the ring and shanking the promotion manager for forcing him to job constantly. This was one of his successors, Joe the Fifth- a striker as opposed to the original's power moves. Still, he had a decent head for business. [color=black][b]"And what is this prize, Senketsu Joe?"[/b][/color] [color=red]"The golden mask of the wrestler who retired in 1975... and the large jewel that is attached to it! It's the mask of Aztec!"[/color] Aztec. Death Man vaguely remembered that name. Senketsu Joe the Third, the previous owner of the Senketsu Joe gimmick, had spent enough time complaining his diva personality. Back in the days when wrestling promotions around the world were willing to work together on a regular basis, Aztec flew from Mexico to Japan to "seek revenge against Joe the Third for crippling his mentor in a steel cage match." It was a cliche, and the man was an awful person. But Aztec's high-flying moves sold tickets, even if he just sort of disappeared after beating Senketsu Joe the Third once... due to allegations of drug abuse. It was no great loss to the organization, and they still had the rights to his image in Japan. The man had always claimed that the his mask- and particularly the Star of Quetzlcoatl on it- was part of ancient priestly garb that gave his predecessors in the Aztec mask phenomenal mystic powers. It sounded like it was a pretty standard gimmick for a luchadore, but with the advent of mystical events... Maybe there was something more to the claim. And really, would they miss what they thought was a dusty old prop? [color=black][b]"Excellent. Joe, I want that mask. If it has half the power that Aztec claimed, it will be invaluable to the syndicate. While the promotion is underway, I will make an attempt to steal it."[/b][/color] With a hearty salute, Senketsu Joe bows. It'd be time for the writers to get together soon and start planning. [color=red]"Of course Lord Death Man! It will be done!"[/color] The next to speak up is a figure with yellow scaly skin, sitting on a boat beneath a starry sky. [color=green]"Imori here. Everything seems fine on thisssss end. We've got a shipment of chocolate to be delivered to Ssssssydney. They won't suspect a thing."[/color] Imori. That would be confusing soon, if the yokai were to return with the magic. A man with thick, scaly skin that made him immune to small arms fire was a real nightmare for shipping officials. An ex-pirate recruited by an organized crime syndicate was worse still. Next a traditional-looking shrine maiden spoke up. [color=blue]"Greetings, Lord Death Man. I have begun searching the wilderness and rural towns of Japan in search of the objects you have described... We will find what we can and try the mystic rites."[/color] [b][color=black]"You have all done well. Continue, and we shall have wealth beyond our wildest dreams. Fail, and you are aware of the consequences. Death Man, out."[/color][/b] With that, Death Man returned his attention to the folder on his desk- a rather large set of pictures and blueprints, as well as a newspaper with some very promising words at the headline: "INTERNATIONAL MUSEUM OF CRIME PREPARES TO WELCOME NEW EXHIBITS FROM THE TOKYO MUSEUM OF HISTORY".