home base of Terror Incorporated. They stopped abruptly as a well-dressed man of Spanish decent stood in front of a cave wall. “Muerte Code Omega, Alpha, Genesis.” He spoke in a cultured, casual voice. A hiss answered back and a section of the wall fell to the floor to reveal an elevator behind it. The man stepped through the portal and spoke again, “Take me down, Thanatos.” The elevator hummed to a start and lowered itself slowly into the depths of the earth. “Lights,” The man said as he stepped into the gloom. The room responded by glowing softly as to not blind him by the change in light intensity, and then slowly brightened to normal daylight. The man looked at the room; it was just as he had pictured it. It was odd not having seen it before with his own eyes but knowing it so intimately in his soul. He sat in a plush chair and commanded Thanatos, the computer to collect data on what had happened since August 7th, 2002. Hernan Cortez is a handsome man. His face has sharp features, piercing brown eyes, and long, straight, brown hair. He has a tan complexion and an easy, almost predatory grace in his movements. His taste in clothing is expensive, tailored, silk suits. He looks very good for a twice burned corpse. “Master, the data has been uploaded, would you like me to read it too you?” The computer asks. “No, that will be unnecessary.” Cortez says with a wave of his hand. He sits down and begins to poor over the printouts. “It would appear my dear Fiona has taken up shop elsewhere.” He mused. “Thanatos, what about Giganto?” “Subject: Giganto has been seen in the service of the Golden Emperor.” “The Who?” “Golden Emperor, self styled king of South and Central America.” “Well, I can’t have that; now can I? I’ve no use for a King.” Cortez looked at the picture of the brutish Giganto. “Still, he served me loyally when no one else would. Perhaps he has earned his freedom.” “We'll let him stay where he is and see if this “Golden Emperor” turns out to be much of a problem. “ARGENT, here; what is your account number?” The voice on the secured satellite line said. “M-34576-3x” Cortez replied. “Professeur Muerte?” The voice paused nervously. There was conversation on the other end. Then a different voice took the line, “Account Number, please.” “M-34576-3x” Cortez repeated. “I need the rest of the code; who is this?” “Muerte Omega, Alpha Genesis.” “Okay. Confirmed. Welcome back to the world of the living Professor.” “Thank you; sorry to be such trouble,” Cortez said sardonically. “I need a new base of operations and some gear for a small cadre of agents.” “Not a problem; what’s the time frame?” “Patience was never my strong suit. I am working on it. I do not have a deadline at this time.” “Design? Location?” “Thanatos is sending them to you now.” Cortez waited patiently. “Okay, as to payment. It would appear as if your account with us has been…uhm, Terminated.” The voice took on a nervous edge. “I expected as much; the price we pay when we die. Thanatos will give you the account number of a bank in Columbia; use the money there to fund the project. And see about setting me up with a new account.” “At once, sir. Anything else we can do for you today?” “No, thank you for your time.” “Thanks for choosing ARGENT, sir.” The new base was far more comfortable than the last one. The laboratory suite was perfect for his expanded scientific background. He was itching to get at the workshop as well. “Thanatos; please have the servo-drones prep the workshop for my new project. Have the Mark III armor ready for assembly.” “At once, Master.” <i>I can’t believe that I chose to where purple, black, and white</i>, Cortez thought to himself, <i>I must have been more affected by madness than they say. </i> He looked at himself in the many mirrors of his master suite; the new armor was impressive. He had kept the skull motive for the face plate, and the cloak, they were dynamic. The armor was glossy black with dark metallic red spikes, while the gauntlets, boots, and belt were gold. “This is the garb fit for a king of the world,” Professeur Muerte’s voice, altered by the armor’s faceplate, reverberated through the room ominously. Scorpia and Fiacho were sparring in their hidden lair, somewhere in the Swiss Alps, trading feints and glancing blows. Then the monitor blinked on. “I have returned.” The voice said simply. Scorpia’s face went white; she spun on the monitor and stared open-mouthed at the face of her former leader. The man she had killed. “We shall be in touch.” Muerte said with a chuckle, and then the monitor went blank. Well, he wants to rule the world. Beyond that he's pretty charming. For some reason, the clone of Professeur Muerte is far saner than the original. He is building slowly, trying to attract followers without attracting unwanted attention from the law. Although personally more powerful than he was before, his organization is quite vulnerable. Muerte is willing to wait it out and use subtle methods to achieve his goals. However, one doesn't conquer the world while it's looking the other way. He knows that he needs to start somewhere small and work out. He has his eye on Brazil. The beaches are lovely. "Solitaire, my dear, don't say such crude things. I was hoping we could make the last moments of your life on earth...magical." Although not on the level of Telios, Empress, or the late Dr. Destroyer, Muerte is a genius. He has studied various sciences and travelled extensively in his short life. He has the skills of the original Muerte at his disposal as well. His armor is an improved version of the original armor Destroyer built for him. It is based on force fields, and gives him tremendous defenses. He can shape the force fields to become offensive and defensive tools. He has also added a few non-Force Field based weapons, namely the powerful Particle Beam and the versitile Adjustable Blaster. He plays to win and whatever works, works. One of the wannabe world conquerers struggling to fill the void left by the death of Doctor Destroyer. A roguishly handsome man with dark hair and eyes. He dresses impeccably and carries himself with an aristocratic air. The Armor is black with red spikes and a black cloak lined in crimson. His guantlets, boots, and belt are gold, and the face plate appears to be a white skull. The cloak is held by two red skulls at his collar.