[u][b]October 26th, 9 a.m.
Hong Kong, China[/b][/u]

[i][color=#9ACD32]Hmmm, no, this will not do[/color][/i], Sir Desmond Dorrance thought to himself as he stood on his front porch and "beheld" the living dead walking the earth anew over a cup of morning tea. Trying to walk through his property no less, mindlessly endeavoring to overcome the barriers between them and the gated mansion. He could not see them but he could feel them. He could hear their every moan with grating clarity, the wafting stench of the grave assaulted his nostrils and he could taste the putrefaction in the already unclean air. [color=#9ACD32]"This simply will not do at all, Singh"[/color], he spoke to his gurkha majordomo, who was already well aware of his master's mood.

Correctly interpreting Sir Desmond's desires, Singh went to fetch an especially prepared weapon and momentarily left the baronet to his thoughts. This had rapidly become a most bothersome infestation indeed. His Society of the Snakes in Shadows had quite a lot of work on its hands now, ensuring the situation did not become a setback for King Snake's businesses or those of his associates. It wasn't merely a matter of money, the situation might rouse the wulin of their stupor borne of inactivity and their activities might draw true scrutiny for perhaps the first time since the Boxer Rebellion. And that was an order he meant upset in due time.

For the moment squadrons of his underlings had taken to protecting key properties and activities, dressed up as hired security and toting body armor and riot shields where under public scrutiny and as their regular outlaw selves when not. He did not need their help at his home, of course, but it was a welcome reprieve from having to dirty his hands with such poor sport. As though he had willed it,  his thoughts were punctuated by a trio of gunshots in the morning quiet and three of the undead pack that were starting to climb over the rest fell back out of sight once more. From the mansion emerged Singh, carrying a still smoking shotgun.

[color=#9ACD32]"Excellent aim as usual, Singh, good work"[/color]. The gurkha was not superhumanly powerful as the massive fighter Snakepit nor skilled in the arts as the cunning gangster Coral, but his accuracy, discipline and ability to command in his stead made him an appreciated aide. As for the undead, they lay on the ground, writhing and scratching at nothing but for the moment relatively incapacitated. Shells loaded with shot, but also purified salt and the ashes of especially crafted and ritually burned taoist amulets. Worth a try, and they had worked quite well. [color=#9ACD32]"Take them to the basement for examination, before the Security Bureau arrives to confiscate them"[/color].

[center]______________________[/center]
[u][b]October 26th, 12 p.m.
Hong Kong, China[/b][/u]

In accordance with the State Religious Affairs Bureau Order No. 5, the Measures on the Management of Reincarnation, passed by the State Administration for Religious Affairs in mainland China and adopted by Hong Kong, a Reincarnation Application must be filed to recognize individuals as having returned from the dead. This was the most it had ever been enforced, of course, and military and police forces across the country mobilized to detain the living dead in order to determine their identity, means of resurrection and in this case means of dealing with said resurrection. King Snake had to admit he was impressed by the scale of their planning.

The authorities, by this point, had come and gone and he had supervised their work. They knew they were not to bother him, the scion of the Dorrance family was very fond of his privacy, and so they carried out their thankless task with a mixture of detached professionalism and some slight resentment towards the wealthy foreigner, safely out of the reach of the undead in his manor. Oh if only they knew. Instructions had been relayed and the so-called Ghost Dragons were hard at work, quietly collecting walking corpses to experiment on. An army of jiangshi, built in record time, was certainly an enticing idea for King Snake.

But that would come later. For the moment, Sir Desmond Dorrance sat to enjoy his lunch. Or he would, had a pest not managed to sneak its way into his abode. [i][color=#9ACD32]I must have a stern talk with Singh about security[/color][/i], he thought to himself, but he knew he was simply annoyed at the interruption. Light of foot, precise and agile movements, controlled breathing and heartbeat as he strangled and replaced the kitchen assistant bringing him his meal, this man was a professional and trained well in the old ways. His regular subordinates could not possibly have detected this intruder, only his lieutenants themselves and they were otherwise occupied. 

King Snake remained seated, his back to the only door, and smiled to himself. The assassin was good, but he was better. He knew every inch of his home, every breath, every step that occurred within. It was his realm and no invader would find an advantage within it. As the assassin confidently approached from behind him, the baronet could tell the fool only knew that the lord of the manor was blind and expected an easy target. He knew nothing of the mind's eye awakened in that pitch dark that let the King Snake see all, see him for what he was, see his approach, the reaching towards the hidden dagger at exactly five steps of distance between them.

"[b]DEATH SENDS HIS REGARDS![/b]" was the battlecry as the blade launched through the air, seeking a body that was already well out of its path, moving faster than even that expert attack. [i][color=#9ACD32]Ah yes, of course it is his doing. A game, a test of my mettle after a long absence, a message...cruelly amusing as always, Lord Death Man[/color][/i] thought King Snake, and in the time it took him to consider this the would-be hitman lay at his feet. Shattered kneecap, snapped clavicle, a concussion as he was swept off his feet and dumped in a heap on the back of his head against the cold, hard floor. He could've killed the man already, but the invasion of his home had incensed him.

[color=#9ACD32]"Rest assured, I will end your life in but a moment for this intrusion. But before that, there is something you must know: Your Lord Death Man sent you here to die"[/color], Desmond Dorrance mused as stood over his fallen, glassy-eyed foe, a foot carefully and cruelly pressed against the broken collarbone as he let the man digest this information. [color=#9ACD32]"He wished to gain my attention and you were the tool. If I had to guess, the blade you were given is marked with a message in braille. Whatever he promised you, the truth is you displeased him and this is your punishment"[/color]. The assassin had time for but a tortured whimper, realization barely settling in.

A swift motion of the foot, the sickening crack and gasp of a snapping neck and once again Sir Desmond Dorrance stood alone. Alone and intrigued. Had his japanese rival truly sought to kill him a greater effort would have been made. What might the skull-faced immortal have planned? The winds of change were turning into a full blown storm and perhaps it was time to throw caution to the winds, then. With a smile, he walked towards and plucked the dagger from the wall it had embedded itself in, running his fingers across the handle and blade. There was indeed a message in braille for him: "Not here, try again Snake. Regards, LDM".

With an amused sigh, King Snake had to admit to himself he was now glad he hadn't torn the man to ribbons. Searching the body like that would have been rather inconvenient.