Lily Pandora, the Drug Queen of Colt, and Vincent "Vinny" Chetti (Known mostly as "The Monochrome Mobster") walked into the vast, cathedral like expanse of the lobby area of what was still formally called The Preservation Tower, a large municipal space with office space and board rooms as well as a memorial to World War II, and a ritzy shopping center.
More recently, the tower has come to be informally known as Injustice Hall, having been co-opted early on during the Catastrophe as the base of operations for The Organization.
They were everywhere. Unobtrusive, but still everywhere. Large, powerful individuals who wore knee length coats that buttoned up the right breast, a rich dark blue with golden yellow trim. White pants only peeked out at the knees, as almost as soon as the coat ended, the polished black combat boots began. The gloves they wore over their hands were also black, as were the combat helmets worn atop their heads. Strapped over the left shoulder was a powerful, chrome and gunmetal weapon that glowed near its base with a pale blue light.
The Organization made Chetti uneasy. Not only did they flaunt the fact their origins lay with mercenary militias, but their armament suggested a super-human supplier of either extra-terrestrial armament or experimental energy weaponry. Chetti had both at his disposal, of course, but not enough of it to arm every member of his criminal empire with it.
But what really made Chetti uneasy wasn't the weaponry or the uniforms. It was their faces. Or rather...the lack of them. Each member of The Organization concealed their face behind a wide goggled face shield, with likely built in filtration system. It happened only once during the criminal uprising of the city, but Chetti also knew that the wide goggles also had low light capability, because he'd seen a platoon garrisoning a street corner one night, and their eyes had glowed a unnatural pale white.
Between the face plates and the bulky, heavy coats (Which Chetti knew they called "Storm Coats"), the rank and file of the Organization was a faceless, genderless mass of bodies known collectively and individually as Armsmen.
Pandora and Chetti crossed to the center dias in the middle of the lobby. What once had been a help kiosk had been transformed into a security checkpoint. One Armsman sat behind a heavy oak desk while two others flanked him on either side, weapons out but pointed at the ground. Off the dias and to the left was a metal detector and gate leading towards the building's elevators, along with another Armsman, this one holding a gleaming stainless steel chain that connected to the collar of a huge mastiff laying on the floor, who lifted its head at the approach of the two.
"Mister Chetti, Madam Pandora - welcome." The Armsman behind the desk said at their approach. His voice was heavily distorted, another mark for the faceless Organization. The Armsman could have been a gawking teenage boy or a elderly matron, for all Chetti would know.
"The Zellenleiter has cleared you both for access to Floor Oh-Seven-Nine. A representative will meet you there to take you to him."
Pandora bestowed the guard a wide smile as he gestured them through, but Chetti did nothing but bestow the Armsman with a deep, deep frown. Prior to the Catastrophe, Chetti's non-profit front had owned The Preservation Tower. Now he had to be cleared access just to walk around his own building.
His own building he still paid property taxes on.
Chetti entered the elevator with Pandora to the sight of another Armsman, who dutifully waited until both were aboard before closing the doors, and then pushing the button to the 79th floor. No one but the Armsmen touched the elevator controls since their occupation of the building began.
Chetti fumed in silence and Pandora left him to it. Chetti liked Lily as a business partner. Drug trafficking was a old tradition in organized crime, but Chetti generally frowned upon it. But Lily's business was different. It wasn't as "grimy" as Cocaine or Meth - her concoctions skewed towards the more "designer"...pseudo-pharmicidicals, if you will. Her greatest breakthrough - Key - was a red, flaky powder that you mixed with water or beverage of your choice and was marketed to help "calm nerves". It was also highly addictive and gave a rush greater then the best energy drink on the market while improving mental focus...for as long as the effects lasted anyway. Then there was no discernible crash...but the user immediately wanted another "shot".
Chetti had the FDA tied up in legal precedings, thus making Key technically legal and thus casting the net that much wider. By the time the FDA finally got court approval for a sample of Key, they would shift the active ingredients to be much more passive and Pandora (and Chetti) will have moved on to the next designer drug 'fad' they helped create.
The elevator dinged to the seventy ninth floor and they both got out, to be greeted by another security checkpoint - this one with sandbags and heavy .50 caliber gun emplacements - and a Armsman that stood out from the rest. His uniform was cut exactly the same way, but his left arm was a advanced prosthetic sheathed in gold metal. His face, unlike the others, was also uncovered...to a point. A heavily scarred lower face with wet, pinkish lips greeted them. The upper half of the face was obscured in a golden dome with two eye slits, one eye slit given over to a highly advanced tactical scope. Along the sides of the golden dome jutted two sweeping communications "wings". Pandora's smile immediately grew at the sight of him.
"Shazta!" She exclaimed, walking up to him quickly and embracing him. Michael Shazta had once been the premiere mercenary for hire in the world before Kevin McGann's fall from grace landed him the top spot. Shazta had butted heads with the Security Legion more times then anyone could have counted. When the Catastrophe rolled into Colt, Shazta was still employed by the one-time king of crime in the city Whipslash. When Whipslash died - cut down in the same barrage that killed Night Raider - Shazta had put up a fight at his estates for honor more then anything. When the Organization leveled the place with an artillery barrage from pieces smuggled in on cargo ships (Which Chetti was still trying to figure out how they got past inspections), Shazta had been pulled out of the rubble barely alive and offered a choice: Die then and there, or serve the Organization.
"Pandora, always good to see you girl." Shazta slurred out. Since the Catastrophe, Shazta had recovered mostly but his jaw was still made out of metal now. "And you, Mister Chetti."
Chetti gave the mercenary the briefest of nods.
"The Zellenleiter is waiting." Shazta gestured behind him. "If you will follow me?"
Chetti and Pandora followed Shazta towards one of the side boardrooms. He opened the door without knocking, marched in, and fired off a salute that would make any West Point instructor livid with envy. Chetti and Pandora followed him in a heartbeat later.
It was a typical non-descript board room offered by the Tower. White walls with faux-wood table tops and comfy (and cheap) leatherbound rolling chairs. The walls retained their usual generic corporate trappings - motivational posters and vague landscapes. The man sitting at the head of the table, with hardcopy folios and a tablet computer arrayed around him, was decidedly out of place.
The Zellenleiter was built like a tank - broad of shoulder and seeming to ripple with muscle even under the mass blanking effect of his own Storm Coat, which unlike his troopers, was a gleaming black leather. He wore golden tassels at the shoulders and a narrow strip of red fabric hung off his right shoulder as a parody of a cape. His pants were a rich red and his gloves and boots were the same polished black as the Armsmen. He even wore a matte black combat helmet like they did. But his face...a blood colored scarf or collar enveloped the lower half of his face. The upper half of his face he left uncovered, and his eyes were hard and green.
He stood - some ingrained courtesy built into the man, Chetti supposed. There was no other reason to stand when they entered...he was stronger then both of them and he knew it.
"Lily, Vincent. Thank you for coming." The voice issuing forth from the Zellenleiter was a rich, deep baritone. "There's only a few things I need to cover with you, but I figured I could impose my hospitality and get you both to join me for dinner."
"That would be lovely, thank you." Pandora replied for them, smiling richly. "And as always, it's nice to see you and your Organization are functioning perfectly well here in Colt."
The Zellenleiter let out a snort. "And by "functioning perfectly well" you mean acting as the holy terror we are portrayed to be. Yes, all well and good. Our ongoing war with Colt's Police Department means there's still no active law enforcement on the streets but my Armsmen help keep petty crime down to tolerable levels."
Chetti's jaw clenched. At the time, it had seemed like a wonderful idea - employ the Organization against the Colt PD to keep them occupied and off balance. Chetti never even considered the fact Zellenleiter would then move the Organization into the PD's nominal duties.
"Still a sore spot, Vincent?" Zellenleiter asked, wryly. "Even you have to admit our jobs would be a lot harder if we had an unruly mob on our hands. Look at the Occupy Movement if you want proof of that."
"I didn't sign onto this agreement to chance one police department for another." Chetti finally spoke.
"And your people, by and large, are able to pursue your interests without interference." Zellenleiter locked his eyes on Chetti's and matched him, glare for glare. "When, that is, I am kept informed as to what your interests are."
Chetti took the point. He'd been testing the boundaries of the Organization for months. Each attempt had ended badly...for him.
"Now then." Zellenleiter replied briskly. "Onto the reasons I called you here today. Vincent, I've been hearing some noise from your sectors that your business is being disrupted by a super."
Chetti snorted. "Jumpstart. A nobody. She's stopped a few shake downs, probably thinks she's making a dent in my organization, but the only reason she hasn't had a bullet put between her eyes yet is because she's so fast. I've got my boys working on a way to negate her speed advantage. I'd say give it a week - two tops - and she'll be another dead Super to add to the pile."
Zellenleiter nodded. Giving the devil his due, Chetti had to admit Zellenleiter didn't push into their individual spheres of power often. It was more his way just to ensure a problem was being taken care of...or that Chetti was even aware of it. A lot of people, including in Chetti's own organization he had to admit, had taken the loss of the Supers hard. The prospect of a new champion rising up appealed to a lot of folks, thus meaning they'd keep quiet about it or deflect attention away. Chetti noticed the newsies especially kept mum about her, as if hoping by not drawing attention to herself she might succeed where the oldest super group in the city failed.
"Lily," Zellenleiter turned his attention to Pandora. "I've got a byproduct for your group. Gentleman by the name of Charles Bannister, Professor of Psychology at the local psych ward up the road."
Pandora frowned. "What does a Professor of Psychology have to do with me or my product?"
"Turns out the good Professor's gone native, you might say. Took a dose of Key and had a nasty flair up case of Telepathy...right in the middle of the "Criminally Insane" Ward."
Pandora winced in automatic reaction. One of the less publicized (By Chetti, anyway) side effects of Key was the slim possibility of unlocking a person's latent super human potential...hence the name "Key". If this Bannister was a latent psychic, then coming into his powers in the middle of a madhouse probably did the guy no favors.
"Turns out he's still in the psych ward." Zellenleiter responded to a question Pandora had fielded while Chetti was distracted. "That's all the police know, beyond the fact every individual in the place is chanting the same name over and over - "Professor of Panic". I need you to get an assessment team over there, ASAP. If we can use him, great but I don't want any nutter psis running around my city if we can help it."
Chetti's jaw tightened again. Zellenleiter had called Colt "My city" before, and each time it dug at Chetti. He'd been operating in this city since he was a boy, and for this upstart...
Chetti inhaled and exhaled slowly. What was done was done, and if he was going to be honest better to serve at Zellenleiter's right hand then be ground underneath him like Whipslash and Shazta had. Zellenleiter and Pandora kept talking, but Chetti discovered he was no longer really listening.