Only a handful of stars could shine in New York.
The lights of the city meant that all but the brightest were drowned out, leaving nothing above on a clear night but the inky black sky. The light was further reflected by the cold february snow, creating a tableau of white below and black above. David Xanatos watched from the peaks of the Eyrie, looking down at the city from behind a pane of thin glass.
It was time to take stock.
Several crop dusters stolen, outfitted with advanced subsonic engines as was Cape Suzette custom.
Industrial vats of acetone, turpentine, and benzene hijacked, not even spaced out to provide the barest hint of deniability.
Several mysterious deliveries of psychotropic precursor materials.
Dozens of Glomgold Enterprises couriers gone missing.
And of course, the murders. Both a rash of minor entertainment figures he was still trying to understand, and the appearance of several Metaworld corpses in the midst of the Magus Bazaar. It would have been solid proof of his real concerns, were it not for the dozens of accounts elsewhere.
Reliable teleportation. And that meant a scale Negaduck had never been capable of before now. Two years ago, he'd waltzed into the most heavily defended location on the West Coast.
All together, it did not take a mind reader to see what was coming.
He had one anyway.
He took a moment to look through the psychic's written account again. They were reliable, as far as fortune tellers went, but they needed to be corroborated. He shifted between stacks of papers, reports, satellite imagery, and whatever other scraps were pulled together in the attempt to understand what was coming. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the alphabet soup had a lot of reports to fall back on. He knew what Negaduck was planning now, some of it. The government's resources were impressive, properly marshaled, but even psychics were not miracle workers. Nonetheless, it gave him the chance to prepare.
Those preparations had been a mixed bag. FEMA expansion had been pushed through without issue, attempts to rally quality muscle from Sky High had borne fruit, and Martinez had, begrudgingly, opened the federal storehouse to him with all the toys they had collected from several decades of military subsidy. He took a moment to ensure the pay stubs from the relevant campaign contributions had been properly filed. On the home front, he'd made enough promises to Macbeth that, between him and Owen, David was confident of his own security in the short term, as well as that of his legacy. He allowed a brief look at the one photograph he kept on his desk. On that, at least, he wasn't taking chances. And finally he'd helped assemble a team. He pulled out their files. Superheroes. Supervillains. Ex-marines, mercenaries, experts. People that, if he were an optimistic man, he might allow himself to hope would solve the problem immediately. David was not an optimistic man, and that operation was a suicide mission.
He allowed himself the briefest moment of consideration of what his options would have been if his overtures to the group that stole his Alcubierre drive had been successful. It was a shame, really, he would have been willing to let the spacecraft go for their help. It wasn't as if they were likely to find anyone foolish enough to buy it from them.
But they had proven intractable as they were hotheaded, and so other avenues were pursued. All the other avenues, in fact. David was running up against the edge of what he could actually accomplish single handedly, unless he was willing to let other things fall by the wayside.
He considered a signed note of thanks from a brownie commune on 8th street, a direct result of his current dropped ball. The Huntsclan managing to trace his quiet opposition back to his own company was a disappointing slipup. He was already reaping the benefits of a magical community that now more fully believed he was on their side, of course, but future operations that made use of the Huntsclan would have to use more subtle intermediaries. That would cost money, in addition to the cost Hunstclan assaults on his front operations had already incurred. Perhaps the Glasses mob, given their recent success dealing with Sykes. Sykes himself was a known proponent for magicals, inasmuch as they paid better than anyone else for a decent protection racket, so he wasn't an option.
He'd reached the limit of what he could accomplish alone, which forced him to not be.
Glomgold had not been hard to convince, given the idle murder attempt two Halloweens ago. The paranoid old miser had helped him pass some beneficial laws, fortified his bunker with everything he could get his hands on, and prepared what was his to weather the storm. Unsurprising, and all he'd really hoped for.
Khan was a bit tricker, given the outlandishness of the threat, but he had come around. Societal breakdown was bad for business, and he had seen the extent of Negaduck's reach first hand. The man had improved Cape Suzette's air defenses, strengthened his own hand and, David assumed, prepared for the strong to triumph.
Doom in his capacity as mayor was nowhere near enough of a factor to be worth informing. Both he and Bellwether would do as the government asked in this matter, and as was common the government understood exactly what David needed. What did need consideration was the potential role Cloverleaf as an organization would play in potential rebuilding efforts. Thankfully, Doom belonged to a small cadre of powerful eccentrics in this country with very obvious levers. He'd had to engage in a level of graft that made even his eyes water, as well as promise the introduction of the 25 lane highway, but he would have the asphalt and the concrete ready if it was needed.
Everything he needed from Shego could be obtained more easily through official channels, and it already had been. The government had remained the primary employer of Super citizens during the long reign of the SRA, simply choosing to keep such employment somewhat discreet. Black Ops Supers were some of the most secretive operatives in the government. Some of them had even kept their names from him.
Olympia, lucky for once in their ill-fortuned lives, were about as far from the initial splash zone as they could have hoped for. Either the issue would be resolved before they became involved, or they would be made aware in time.
"Excuse me sir."
Owen interrupted David's musing with an expression that claimed contriteness despite not actually moving. "We've just gotten a report on the last few victims of Negaduck's seemingly random Hollywood killings. I took the liberty of arranging them in order, and… I thought you'd like to see it."
David took the paper from his servant and looked it over, eyes scanning over the first few lines. "Kathleen Crowley, James Algar, Jason Michael Lee, silent cartoon Little Lulu, James Mason, Freddy Young… Ah."
He quickly scanned the last names of the remaining five.
"Call my bluff." Owen read over his shoulder.
"Indeed." David replied.
He needed to hurry up.
There was something occurring in San Fransokyo that was beyond the scope of his current focus. The specifics of how the Zaibatsu were tied together eluded him, but he knew a tinderbox when he saw it. Any attempt to disentangle that mess or the web of dangerous supervillains supporting it was as likely to hinder as it was to help, given how little time he had. That left…
Ah yes. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Predictably unpredictable.
What did he want from Heinz Doofenshmirtz today?
In the best case scenario, the issue facing Danville would be dealt with before it could potentially link back up to the core catastrophe. In the worst case, the man would buy the rest of the response some much-needed time to coordinate. There were a great many resources that could not officially be activated until the first shots were fired.
What did he not want?
He did not want Heinz Doofenshmirtz poking about the greater fire. The man could easily end up triggering Negaduck before his own preparations were ready, or making more difficult the broader web of preparations already laid in place. So, something to keep Heinz distracted. Not so distracted that he could not put his own house in order, but too distracted to consider 'dealing' with the broader crisis.
A simple solution presented itself. The details of what exactly Doofenshmirtz would be facing were unknown to David at this point in time. Trying to find out would be an inefficient use of resources. Simply put Heinz on the trail, and he would hunt for what was threatening him all by himself, ideally with enough time to prepare for it. If he failed, well…
Danville was not the only city that needed David's attention.
Whether he succeeded or not, David would attain a much clearer picture of what Heinz was capable of when he took something seriously and actually had time to prepare. That information would prove useful no matter how things shook out. Perhaps he would even take to preparation without any investigation; an action that would speak volumes on its own.
Now to arrange it. Describe the situation as an 'attack' on Doofenshmirtz personally, narrow the focus. Tie 'his' city to his sense of self. Use 'Doofania' a few times. Inform him of none of the other known targets. Highlight the potential danger to those Heinz cares about. Prime Heinz to follow the path he'd laid out. Ensure he understood the severity of the threat.
David took another moment to run through his plan, looking for flaws or false assumptions. He could not find any for now. Heinz was deeply unpredictable, but unpredictable in certain rigidly defined ways. Present him with the right sort of stimulus and he would more reliably leap than even Judge Doom, who so carefully regimented his eccentricities that you could keep time by the thumping of his cane. There was always the risk Heinz' investigation would end up failing catastrophically, but in this environment all risks were calculated ones. It would do.
He had no reason to delay; an appearance of haste would sell it all the better.
"Owen, please get me Heinz Doofenshmirtz."
===
"Heinz."
You blinked as the video call came through, not expecting a ring from David this time of the month. You worried a little; was he still upset about you turning down his offer?
"Oh, uh, hi David? What is it? You usually like to set up a meeting before we chat."
"I'm sorry to have to call on short notice, but I'm rather pressed for time at the moment." Xanatos replied, face controlled and blank. "Negaduck is planning something. Something catastrophic. And I believe he's designated you as a secondary target."
"Uhhhhhh…" you attempted to process what up until a moment ago was a very pleasant Tuesday. "You mean, like…"
"Your city." Xanatos elaborated, looking you dead in the eyes and radiating sincere, somber concern.
"What does he-"
"I don't know." Xanatos replied, gently shaking his head. "I don't know why, or what. What I do know is that he intends to send a member of the Fearsome Five to Doofania on their own prior to some sort of united effort elsewhere. I don't know where, or how big. I can promise you four months to make whatever investigations or preparation you can. Anything beyond that will be out of my hands. I wish I could do more, but my own efforts are still in progress."
"I, well, uh… Four months is a lot more warning than I got last time." You say.
"Negaduck is not another alien feline." Xanatos stressed gravely. He leaned back in the high-backed office chair he was sitting in, lines of stress briefly visible on his forehead. "He will happily kill anyone it strikes his fancy to, and he will expect the same from his followers. I urge you to do whatever you can to prepare."
You attempt not to look like the deer in headlights which you absolutely are. "Right, yeah, of course. I mean like, do you… have any suggestions?" You ask.
Xanatos thought for a moment.
"I would start now."
===
David dismissed the call and turned to his servant. "Owen, bring me the rest of the dossiers for our 'special project' in Idaho."
Owen was silent for a moment. "What are you going to do, sir?"
"What else?" David replied. "I'll call his bluff."
Xanatos stood up and left, leaving the latest papers lying out on his desk, eleven grisly murders lined up in a neat row.
Kathleen Crowley.
James Algar.
Jason Michael Lee.
Jay Leno.
James Mason.
Freddie Young.
Bimbo.
Little Lulu.
Peter Ustinov.
Peter Finch.
Jonathan Frakes.
===
Negaduck will trigger a crisis in the near future.
Negaduck's crisis will occur at least two turns from now, but no more than three.
Negaduck may attack mid-turn.
Negaduck is sending ONE member of the Fearsome Five to your city.
Your territory is not the primary target of Negaduck's greater plan.
You have unlocked various options to prepare for the Crisis.
You do not know who is coming for you.
Corporate actions related to media gain +5 next turn, as Hollywood has taken a small but notable hit to its talent pool.
