RedLeftHand36
Your Host Tonight
There comes a time in everyone’s life when the big questions in life are asked. Who am I? What do I want in life? Did I leave the stove-top on at home? Fear not, my child, because I know, deep down in the very pits of your presumably beating heart, that you wouldn’t mind being a bit of a badass. Well boy, oh boy, do I have an opportunity for you. In the year of 20XX, exists a world filled of many beings of might, magic, and guns or something, I dunno. Maybe you’d prefer going Condiment King and squirt spicy sauce into people’s eyes like a savory pepper-spray. But my point is, this is a world where heroes and villains prosper. Sometimes. Not all the time. Looking at you Condiment King. But anyways… so heroes, villains, and supers to each, have existed for nearly a century and a half, but only in more recent years [think the late 70s] have such roles become a cornerstone of daily life.
Enter the three organizations integral to this aspect of the world:
The CIA; no not that one. The cool one. The better one. The one you’ve never actually heard about. You think. The Covert Intermediary Agency, known for their employment of associates colloquially known as the Men in Black [although they’re properly called Black Hats]. That’s right, those guys that skulk around Roswell and also any 7-11 in midwestern US. They’re actually an international organization, but they just so happened to be spearheaded by some quacks over in New Mexico a while back after an incident with a Super during some morally icky science experiments went haywire. That’s right, the 1947 UFO incident was a cover-up. And then THAT was painted over, but poorly, made it seem like the Men in Black were just there for some extra-terrestrial booty instead of going Frankenstein on some superpowered folks. Don’t think that there isn’t more though. The CIA has a paramilitary branch known as the Red-Tails [or simply RTs], and is filled more or less with your James Bonds and your Black Widows and your Sterling Archers... those kinds of people.
In the mid-70s the very first major villain organization known as Mamba popped up, led by an infamous black-market arms dealer who went by the alias of Black Mamba. After several years of conflict between Mamba and the Red Tails, the Red Tails emerged victorious after the involvement of a small group of heroes, formed of both supers and non-supers, and in the aftermath of the war that no one heard of, the very first government sanctioned hero team was formed: The Golden Hand, with its most prominent members comprised those such as Justice, whose incredible superhuman capabilities could level entire mountain ranges despite her lack of sight, Ulf, the wolf-themed hunter who was prepared for anything, and could turn a bunch of sticks into a nuclear bomb or something, and Godspeed, whose amazing speedster capabilities are frankly just super fast. I guess he makes Usain Bolt seem more like Usain Slug amirite hahahaha… Anyways the Golden Hand would evolve into the primary hero syndicate, and eventually become subject to the Sam Sheepdog-Ralph Wolf Act of 1980, an act that introduced government-sanctioned professional villainy in an effort to maintain an in-check database of various criminals, with the promise of lenient sentences so long as villains maintain and conduct themselves in regulated manners.
The other side of the coin is MANTICORE. Yes, all caps. The syndicate of villains comprised of many high profile members, particularly in their council leadership known as the Heads of Typhon, led primarily by the supervillain Apollyon, long-time rival of Justice. After the final defeat of Black Mamba, the upstart young villain had worked with the CIA and the Golden Hand to create MANTICORE for the specific purposes of the Sam Sheepdog-Ralph Wolf Act, convincing other high profile villains to join and inspiring the villainous masses to join the cause, and even implementing the hench-humanity and villain-mentorship programs soon afterwards, serving as possibly one of the most important figure in organized villainy, and not only that, but worked with the Golden Hand once more to recreate their heroic equivalents, establishing hard outlined systematic rights for sidekicks, butlers, and Katos and well established trainee programs.
It is most important to note that, for the CIA, the onset of such programs, law implementations, and affiliations are primarily used to keep an organized checklist on such potentially dangerous individuals, regardless of alignment. It is the CIA’s duty to keep track of any such individuals, complete with the statistics regarding numbers, aligned persons of interest, notable supers [especially when in regards to external extreme-level emergencies requiring specific abilities], and, most importantly, keeping track of every single such person.
Which brings us to the here and now.
In light of recent events, an emergency summit meeting has been engaged by the CIA. Heroes, villains, and CIA operatives alike have started dropping off the face of the earth like flies, left and right, and the Cleaners aren’t behind it this time. The past six months have bore witness to more than 20 disappearances of high profile Persons of Interest, and well over 80 low profile ones. The forces of the CIA, the Golden Hand, and MANTICORE have decided to convene immediately, bringing with them their affiliates, representatives, and trainee-program members, not only for the usual responsibilities, but to keep them safe from whatever external threat there may be. Of course, some members can’t help but suspect a traitor or two in their midst, as these events have sparked some amount of tension between all three syndicates.
The Highland Compound in northern Maine, overlooking the Passamaquoddy Bay, is sacred grounds to all three syndicates, and a place of both neutrality and reverence. Any act against another syndicate is met with immediate termination at best, and immediate termination at worst, depending on the severity of the act. Certain methods of peacekeeping are used here, and they are most certainly appropriate for such intense company.
The summit itself takes place within the Highland Castle, formerly the home of Angus MacDonnell, aka the Highlander, one of the original founding members of the Golden Hand, who peacefully passed in his sleep five years prior. The sprawling structure houses the Grand Hall in which the meeting is about to take place. With some semblance to a dinner party, various syndicate members have taken upon themselves to offer comfort to the meetings attendees during such strenuous times, for the sake of their affiliates, particularly the greener ones. The great hall appears not unlike the court of a king, with suits of armor, tapestries, and oil paintings lining the walls, with pillars and staircases to higher floors abound, and polished stone-tile flooring etched with intricate designs. Various oval-shaped tables, capable of sitting up to five people each, and made of dark wood, dot the area, sandwiched between two long tables filled with various foods and drinks, and overlooking it all, a crescent shaped table, clearly where the important people were going to sit and speak.The room was rather dimly lit, as it seemed that the ever medieval theme even extended to the lighting, as torches adorned the walls and a candle-lit chandelier loomed overhead. The room bustled with the life of a great variety of sorts, both heroes, villains, and CIA agents. Though the time for talk was yet to come, the tension was almost solid. Like pea soup. Well, more accurately like those halloween smoke-machines when they’ve been pumping that god-awful fog for hours. Maybe less solid and more of a vapour. Something like that at least.
At the crescent table sat nine people, three from each syndicate. From the CIA, sitting in the center, Sergeant Major Henry Carson, chewing on his cigarette and glaring at the entire room and his forehead vein visibly palpitating. Alongside him, Master Sergeant Warren M. Piecz, scratching the underside of his nose as his eyes shifted rapidly all around, and, of course, Mr. Woodstock with a massive couple of stacks of papers and files. On the leftmost side sat Nyx, in her exquisitely shiny black dress, looking into a small, round mirror as she intensely focused on a single eyelash, as well as Coldheart, simply waiting in an anxious manner as her right leg bounced subtly up and down rapidly. The chair between her and Piecz was empty, as the man who would sit there was apparently engaged in a cheerful conversation near the food array. On the rightmost side of the crescent table sat Godspeed, mildly scowling across the room at his affiliate being so casual during such a time. Every once in a while he could feel Piecz glaring at him for a reason unbeknownst to him, though it was John’s blue suit and pink tie that irked the Master Sergeant, due to how ugly it seemed to the vet. On Godspeed’s left sat Cypher similarly waiting patiently for things to begin, much like Ares on the opposite end of the table. And to Cypher’s own left, between he and Mr. Woodstock, another empty chair.
The two empty chair belonged to Apollyon and Justice, whose two massive frames stood apart from each other close to where their true interests lay. Although their words could not quite be heard over the low-volume commotion of fraternizing guests, both appeared to be in fairly good spirits in each other’s company. One might think they were looking forward to the evening, considering how both dressed so similarly in their intricately patterned formal suits, and such outfits even complimenting each-other, with Apollyon donned in black accented with silver, Justice adorned in white and gold. The room was filled with the mingling of rivals and partners, such as Hecate occasionally pestering her sister to help her with her own make-up, or Father Six Eyes and Willow sitting in the darkest corner of the room with several other guests of apparent magical nature. Adriano the Raven was busy talking business with a few other villainous bureaucrats, Sergei Rasputin and Vladimir Medvedev were swapping their most recent adventures, being such long-time friends. Coldheart spoke with intense sternness at Toymaker for some amount of time before going off to make sure the trainees were doing well.
These were the big leagues...
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