October 30th, 2:30 PM Local Time
Skull Island, In the North Pacific

The passenger pigeons and carolina parakeets flitted about over the shores of Skull Island. A Dodo bird chased a plump looking grub, and a dolphin flitted about in the waters near the dock. On this dock, Lord Death man sat, once again, awaiting one of his guests- this time a fellow long-lived crimelord. Sure, he and King Snake had spent most of the 60's trying to kill each other, but it was an unstoppable force versus an unkillable object... 

[color=black][i]or however that phrase goes.[/i][/color] Lord Death Man thought, petting a panting canine creature. [color=black][i]I really hope Snake didn't rip this one to shreds. It'd be awkward sending another guy.[/i][/color]

King Snake had, in fact, torn apart the body, but only as a means of disposal after he had found what he was looking for. The invitation had been, rather creatively he had to admit, etched onto the would-be assassin's flesh by way of his irezumi tattoo. Or rather via specific points, new additions and mistakes by any other metric, where the needle had scarred the skin and left minuscule bumps for his superior sense of touch to find. On a full suit of ink.

Finding it all spread across the man's body had taken more time and more feeling up a cadaver than he cared to admit, and it read: 

[i]King Snake, I apologize, but this was a little long to fit on a knife. Our rivalry has lasted longer than most criminal careers. I remember the first time we had a duel on top of a bridge in Beijing, when I refused to pay tribute for the use of the city's ports- you didn't want to abide by the previous boss's agreements with me. Anyway, after I tossed you to the ground, you managed to take me by surprise and throw me overboard into the smokestack of a passing ship. Damn, you really should have seen your face when I confronted you a week later. You were eating at a fine restaurant, and out of the kitchen I come, roundhouse kicking your date because you switched seats. God that was awkward. Anyway, I believe we are adults, and after our understanding in the 80's, I believe we can do business. I am working on a glorious undertaking that will redefine crime as we know it. I need all the old hands I can get. I even managed to get Wolf Carson on board, and it turns out that ludicrous rumor about the brain transplant was accurate. I, and the others I've brought on for this, will be at the following coordinates. I don't know how to do numbers, just translate this part into braille seventeen degrees fifty four minutes fifty two seconds north  one hundred and thirty six degrees eleven minutes fifty five seconds east

This is Skull Island, and it was my base in Polynesia during the second World War. There are several rare and exotic creatures, and I advise your henchmen not to harm them, or else I will have their skin. Accomodations are prepared for all one hundred and eight guests, and the announcement will be made on Halloween to allow ample time for my guests to arrive. I trust I can count on your cooperation. 

Death Man Out.[/i]

Desmond Dorrance had to, at the very least, respect the dead man's dedication. That was a lot of painful needlework to go through. Everywhere on his anatomy. But that had been four days ago and the dead man did not matter. What mattered was that King Snake's interest had definitely been piqued, and so he had arranged instructions for his Society of Snakes in Shadows to continue carrying out their work while he attended the meeting. The walking dead were to be harvested in utmost secrecy, kept subdued where they might feed on negative energies. In bloody murder sites across the world, places steeped in terror and anger and hate, King Snake's army would grow.

But for the moment Sir Desmond was accompanied by a lone man, only his majordomo Singh was privy to such important machinations and so he was the one piloting the high speed cabin cruiser towards the given coordinates. Not the Snake Cruiser or the  King's Cruiser or somesuch, that was the sort of the name he would reserve for his luxury yacht were he the type to name his vessels in such a manner. But he wasn't. Besides, the Dorrance yacht was reserved for leisure only, this powerful one-man crew machine was all business and made for rapid, uneventful transit.

Lord Death Man, with his typical whimsical demeanor, sat in his colorful lawnchair as the speedboat came into port, stroking a tasmanian tiger. He gave a nonchalant wave to the blind Englishman and his manservant.

[color=black]"Ah, King Snake! Now, this is just a formality but, I'm going to be honest, I figured you died. The braille in the Irezumi is a good indicator you're not, but I need to be absolutely sure that you're the real deal."[/color]

The skeleton-clad Yakuza stood up suddenly, opening his arms wide. [color=black]"Somewhere on or near this jetty, there is an assassin! Tell me, where are they, what are they armed with, and what fighting style does their stance suggest?"[/color]

[color=#9ACD32]"The rumors of my death were greatly exagerated, as I am sure you learned from Chien Na Wei's flight. But given my absence, doubts are entirely reasonable"[/color], came the reply, as Desmond stood still on his craft's deck, his trusty cane in hand. By this point, Singh knew better than to get in the way and simply found a place to wait out the proceedings, a pair of revolvers and his old kukri handy just in case.

King Snake tapped his cane down. Once, twice. He listened. He felt his surroundings, he intensified his focus. In some bushes to the left, there was a small native boy with a spear- a fishing spear. No, couldn't be him. Too simple, too direct, and the skull disliked children coming to harm. No one would send an assassin against Desmond Dorrance knowing of his true identity expecting them to survive. There was a man in one of the skeleton-themed outfits Death Man assigned to his henchmen to maintain their anonymity. Again, too plain and obvious. Where, then, would a test for him hide?

Ah, of course. Where to hide from someone with his senses, someone who could perceive every sound, every scent, every vibration from the air? With a wordless smile, Snake approached the side of his boat and calmly dipped his cane beneath the waves, holding an end to his ear. He remembered when the water signified a return complete darkness, a weak spot he could not allow himself. Focusing, he felt the currents, the flow, the vibrations, using his cane he fished for faint sounds he could otherwise not feel above water. And he felt it. The tell-tale twitch of a thrill killer. The fast-paced maddened thoughts only the mind that spawned them could comprehend. The cold, waterproofed steel of the trench knife. And the bubbles escaping from the blowhole as it slowly approached the boat.

[color=#9ACD32]"Oh for the love of..."[/color] was all Snake could mouth off before the assassin made his move. Its move. [i][color=#9ACD32]This really needs to stop[/color][/i], he managed to think to himself before steeling body and mind for battle. The surface of the ocean burst. The spray hit Snake as he took a step back and out of his crouch, turning to the side of the boat with cane at the ready and held out in front of him much like a sword. He could see the rainbow in his mind as the assailant cut through the air in a clear trajectory over his craft but low enough to strike at him, knife held between clenched teeth on a bottle-like snout. It was a goddamn dolphin.

The dolphin took a swipe with the knife as he leapt over the boat, going straight for the top of Snake's head with a maniacal series of clicks and whistles. Of course, such an attack loses much of its surprise value when you know that a dolphin is after you. Of course, the very sight of a dolphin leaping for a flying slash would be enough to trip up most men, but King Snake was not most men. His reputation for cold blooded ruthlessness and absolute readiness for murder was well deserved. Besides, given his track record it would have been more surprising if Lord Death Man had used the skeleton-costumed henchman instead.

With a minimum of graceful motion King Snake defended himself. Cane already in place, with strong footing and the advantage in reach, it took but a simple flick of the wrist to knock the dolphin's blade off its intended path and he doubted the marine creature could switch "grips". Still tracking his attacker with the very end of his weapon, Dorrance took the slightest pivot and sidestepped away from the trajectory of the leap wholesale. Letting it return to the water would not do, however, and Snake pressed the advantage, flicking his cane back only to disdainfully snap it down against the animal's skull. The dolphin squeaked and whistled as Death Man sat, unperturbed.

[color=black][i]Fuck, the henchman was supposed to try and kneecap him. The fuck is Bakurai doing?[/i][/color]

The dolphin's thoughts, of course, were simple. [i]STAB THE LIMEY! GUT THE BRIT! BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODDIEEEEEEEEEE AND MOMMY WILL LOVE MEEEEE![/i]

Simple, but not those of a sane cetacean.

For its part, the dolphin continued putting up an amiable fight, flopping around the deck and tossing his trench knife at King Snake before reaching to a bandolier of more knives and taking one in his teeth. Back on the shore, the henchman had finally drawn the sleek pistol that Death Man had secreted in a soundproof pocket of his trousers in an effort to disguise it from King Snake until it was drawn. He fumbled a few times with it, obviously confused by the events unfolding on the boat, and accidentally fired a round skyward, causing birds across the island to dive for the trees as the dolphin continued its assault on Dorrance's ankles.

The gunshot was met with several in kind, with Singh taking the bullet as a sign that things were not going as planned. A six shooter emptied in the direction of the sound and the other towards the observing crime lord, the surprise making the gurkha's usually quite lethal aim wide and turning it into suppressing fire, but Dorrance knew he could trust his aide should the situation degenerate further. For the moment he was busy after parrying the thrown blade, feet darting and shuffling to and fro, more concerned with protecting his bespoke outfit than with any sort of risk to his well being. [color=#9ACD32]"That is quite ENOUGH"[/color].

Punctuating the sentence was a graceful flip over the thrashing creature, a means of avoiding one final slash, gaining an advantageous position and showcasing his capacity for effortlessly spectacular agility. A single thrust of the cane as he was airborne and quite literally looking down on his target and Bakurai's blowhole was most mercilessly intruded upon by the wooden shaft, with the briton subsequently landing next to its now harmless form putting his weight down on it. The psychotic dolphin made an attempt to gasp. However, with its blowhole plugged, it was left to choke.

Meanwhile, one of Singh's bullets went straight into the head of the yakuza, the force causing him to slump over and the chair to flip back as a red dot expanded from the singed bullet-hole in his skull mask- and the clear path to the other side of his head. At about a forty five degree angle, however, life returned to his eyes and he quickly pushed off the ground into a flip, landing on his feet and cracking his neck.

[color=black]"I agree, King Snake. Bakurai turned this into a bit of a farce, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let him go. It's hard to teach dolphins knife-fighting. And you, Saburo," Lord Death Man said as he turned to the henchman, his head already closing the wound, "Learn some goddamn trigger discipline."[/color]

With that, he took his own cane in hand and walked towards the boat, already chuckling over the dolphin's faux pas. [color=black]"I suppose that is enough proof indeed. Welcome to Skull Island, one of my international safehouses. It's a temporary measure for this endeavor, because we'll be building to something much bigger in the near future. Bakurai, go back to chasing seals into old naval mines."[/color]

King Snake was not at all one to let attacks on his person go unpunished, but he was a guest here and killing house pets would be in very poor form. With a grunt, though waiting perhaps a moment too long, he removed his weapon from his fallen foe and pushed the cetacean overboard with his foot. The slightest of hand gestures made Singh holster his already reloaded guns down and the majordomo sat back down on the pilot's seat, wordlessly checking the blade on his razor sharp knife. Just in case.

[color=#9ACD32]"Perhaps you might be better served improving your men's training, rather than putting all this effort on beasts. But I see you stand strong as ever in your ways after my absence"[/color]. Smiling confidently himself, Sir Desmond Dorrance stepped out of his craft and into Skull Island, offering his oftentime rival a firm handshake, which the Yakuza accepted. [color=#9ACD32]"It is good to see some things unchanged by time. And I must admit you have my interest. What do you have in mind that needs all of this, all of us?"[/color].

[color=black]"I've told you. I intend to redefine crime, and the first step is a concerted effort to perform the greatest heist in history."

"Desmond, we're stealing Atlantis."[/color]