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October 23rd, 2011. How do you get a bunch of superheroes to meet? Mostly it seemed like chance and circumstance were the best ways. And fortunately circumstance and his money had become a bit of a confluence. He had passed his contact info amongst various people during the Harvestfair, where a bunch of heroes had been. All he hoped was that someone would listen. And then the press conference three days earlier helped. So a meeting was arranged, he had sent out invites to the responses he got, and to some he didn't get. "I apologize for the impersonal nature of this, but you likely are aware of my recent efforts. As such I wish to discuss with you the possibility of affiliating yourself with what I am building. I prose a meeting atop the opera house. 7 P.M. on the 23rd of October. Myself and King of Suits will be there, barring some catastrophe that might arise." It was a little form letter-ish and he regretted that as he raced with Weaver towards Hanover on the Arug. But it looks like he wasn't going to be make his appointment, a call to the contact information he had for King, and he hoped everything would go smoothly in his absence. though it was more a little fear, than something legitimate. He understood he could not force things to go according to plan, as right now showed.

GM Warehouse 13 - Waterfront District - Freedom City Amid crates of every shape and size standing silent sentry, sounds of scuffling slither through the shadowed storehouse. "Careful with those crates Joe, Boss don't want 'em damaged," the largest of the men whispered harshly. "Keep yer lid on, Paulie, and keep yer voice down! You want the entire city to wake up to yer yammerin'?" Joe cuffed the bigger man on the back of the head as an exclamation before turning back to the task at hand. The other three men worked in silence, forming a line between the door and the back of a large box trailer attached to a semi-truck. Their eyes darted from side to side, pupils almost completely dilated in the blackness. "What's got you mooks spooked eh," Joe asked, handing off a crate to the nearest in line. "There's been stories, about more fish men comin' from the waters. They say they come at night and drag you down into the ocean. They say-" "They say a lotta things don't they Paulie," Joe sneered derisively at the superstitious lout, believing him soft-headed. "Huh-huh-huh," was Paulie's reply. An out of place sigh echoed through the warehouse, and a disembodied voice reverberated through the rows of stacked crates. "Sometimes what they say, my friends, turns out to be true."