“Not bad, eh?”

Mercy tilted her head to the side as Eugene raised his flute of champagne. Outside, the clouds flashed by as his jet pulled into a dive, arcing down towards the outskirts of Kyoto. Below, far below, the administrative machinery of Kurtz Industries was grinding into action to clear the way for his arrival. “Not bad at all,” he continued, draining his flute in one gulp, and nodded to himself. “Worth every cent. Send my compliments to the vintner.”

Mercy nodded, tapping at her tablet, and Eugene returned to staring out the window, fidgeting with his rings. There were several of them, glinting on his fingers, made of a polished, reflective material. He thought of the many things that had had to align for this day to arrive; all of the preparations, all of the groundwork, all of the investment. All of the… obstacles… that had had to be swept aside. For this day.

They landed. As a procession of machines removed his luggage from the jet, Eugene took the steps two at a time, Mercy right behind him, and bowed to the utterly uninteresting Japanese man at the bottom. “Representative,” he exclaimed, pumping the other man’s hand vigorously, “how wonderful it is to meet you. And such an honour.”

“It is we who are honoured to have Kurtz Industries invest in our humble city,” the representative returned, visibly discomfited by Eugene’s enthusiasm. “And we are eager to explore the possibilities that you are offering, Kurtz-san.”

“Indubitably, indubitably,” Eugene agreed, and lowered his voice. “I must say, between you and me, honoured representative… the board was very, very tempted to simply expand our preexisting footprint in Osaka instead, but I decided – on the facts, Kyoto is better – it really is! – and I stood up for you. And they, of course, were compelled to agree.”

"Then we are more indebted to you than we previously believed," the representative commented.

"Well, diversification is better than overspecialization," Eugene demurred, dipping his head, and moved on to the next topic. It took about five minutes for the representative to begin flagging in the face of his relentless verve. Mercy took pity on him, and after pulling Eugene aside for a few whispered words, passed him on to another one of her lackeys, who began shepherding him elsewhere.

As Eugene watched the representative sidle away, he glanced over his shoulder at Mercy, who in turn looked down at her tablet. She’d produced a pair of sunglasses from nowhere. (Her dress didn’t have pockets.) There was a limousine approaching them, its windows tinted, and he smiled widely, showing his teeth, hands planted on his hips as it coasted to a stop. Mercy fell into step beside him. “Imagine how that representative would feel,” he whispered to her, “if he’d known who we were about to meet.”

The door opened, and they ducked inside. Sitting opposite them was a man, hair immaculately groomed, eyes a baleful yellow, skin sallow and dark. He was in a tailor-made black suit, while Eugene was in a T-shirt; and yet Eugene was the one in charge. (Funny how these things worked.) He was toying with a small, intricately-made horse, its eyes the same shade as his, almost invisible amidst all that black. It pranced about on his palm, tossing its head, and he crushed it in his fist as Eugene cleared his throat, its brief life – such as it was – snuffed out in an instant. “Kurtz.”

“Nightmare,” Eugene replied, still smiling. “It’s been a while since we last spoke, hasn’t it? How’s your sex life? Taken up a new hobby lately? I recommend crocheting.”

Nightmare ignored the clumsy barb, which, with Eugene, passed for small talk. “Operations are expanding,” he reported, hands flat on his lap. “I anticipate the last independent syndicate in Osaka to submit within the year. The entrenched powers in Kyoto, on the other hand, have chosen to focus on the Night Parade and their antics.” His lips spasmed in what might have been mirth. “Their last mistake. I have also acquired confirmation of the existence of the Shie Hassaikai girl. We had her, in Nagoya… but the dragons moved against us.”

Eugene frowned. “Not unexpected. We’ll have to save them for last. Is there not – we have a contact, I remember. In the, uh – Die – the Die-Itch –”

“Dai-Ichi Ikkai,” Nightmare said. “Yes. The dragons. He is still maneuvering. His brother, I believe, is studying at Shiketsu – some sort of teenage rebellion, I’m told – and rescued the girl from Nagoya. He conveyed her home in one piece… despite our best efforts. He’s stronger than he seems.”

“Ah, Shiketsu,” Eugene muttered. He popped the tab on a can of Coke and tipped it back, exhaling gustily. “Isn’t that where, uh… your junior, isn’t he? Victor –”

“He goes by Hydra now,” Nightmare whispered.

“Yes, and that other boy. The one from the German programme. There were two of them, weren’t there?” Eugene smiled.

“The twins. They do not remember me. Nor do I remember them.” Nightmare shifted in his seat. “The son of Sun Man is at Shiketsu, however.”

Eugene stilled. “Sun Man, you say?”

Nightmare didn’t grin in triumph, but he might as well have. For a hardened psychopath and aspiring crime lord, he was awfully easy to read. “Yes,” he confirmed, “and he’s in the same class as Victor and the Dai-Ichi Ikkai boy. He has a Korean girlfriend. He lives with his mother.”

“LifeLight,” Eugene muttered. “Living in filth, no doubt. I would expect nothing less, given all that I’ve done for them.” His eyes flicked up again to meet Nightmare’s. “Courtesy of our friends at Shiketsu, I presume.”

“There are three,” Nightmare said. “There is the psychologist, who provides us with information on the heroes; the teacher, who feeds us information on Shiketsu and its weak points; and the nurse, who does all that and more.”

“The nurse,” Eugene chuckled, crumpling his can of Coke in his fist and turning to the impassive woman at his elbow. “You remember her, Mercy? The Yank who killed her whole orphanage. I knew she could be put to good use. I knew it.” He turned back to Nightmare, the mirth sliding off his face. “How many of them are in custody? The failures. Including the ones involved in the Shie Hassaikai raid.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Free them all,” Eugene instructed. “I have a thousand Marshall clones docking in Kobe on Thursday. We’ll start stirring things up, provided that circumstances don’t intervene. Find a way to pin it on one of the syndicates. A jailbreak such as this... oh, it'll necessitate co-operation, I imagine. A casus belli. First Osaka.” He ran his tongue over his lips, Coke-stained teeth flitting in and out of view. “First Osaka, then Kyoto. And then all of Japan. My first Asian subsidiary.”

Nightmare looked at him, eyes narrowed.

Eugene smiled again, easily, and spread his hands. “Ours. Ours, Nightmare! Had you any doubt?” His rings glinted in the dim light. He glanced out the window. “And this is where I get off. I’ve an apartment to tour, Nightmare. And you’ve an empire to run.”

Mercy left the car first, and held the door for Eugene. Sunlight spilled into the limousine’s interior as he offered Nightmare a two-fingered salute, then ducked out of the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and Nightmare was alone. The mutant gritted his teeth, wrung out his hands, and pulled out his phone as the limousine started to move again.

“Shiratora? I have a job for you…”