Oswald is sitting comfortably in a beautifully crafted medieval wooden chair in a posh Hotel room in Miranda, Venezuela. Oswald's scowl says it all, he’s a man of results, and none have shown themselves yet.

(RING)

Suddenly one of his many servants seems to almost appear from nothing with a phone on a silver tray.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

Oswald motions to his servant who immediately knows to place the phone to his master’s ear.

“Hello?”

TK: “Ozzy, listen up! We’ve found out that the mark has a political connection, with intel on exactly where this Johnny , mother fucker, is being detained. The political connection’s name is fucking O...s...mer Ruben Palma, or some shit O-S-M-E-R Ruben Palma. Fuck these foreign ass names, bro. You know what to do.”

Ozzy looks to his left and sees the target on the television, as Ozzy is watching Diario Avance 24 news.

I think I know where to find him.

He hangs up the phone.


Plans and intelligence covered a table in the middle of the kitchen area in his lavish hotel room. His hands are full of paper. The intelligence that was gathered? His servants had asked around the town, mostly trying to pinpoint things about Palma. What places he likes to frequent, how many times does he visit that spot. What food does he typically order? The basics, essentially, to truly pinpoint a pathing of where he could be at his most vulnerable.

“Hm… El Cine Restaurant is his favorite place for lunch.”

He snaps his fingers and a servant appears with a topographical map of Miranda on a pad. He takes the pad and begins to look at the buildings, looks at the streets. Then he sees the prices for the restaurant.

“Huh. That place is pretty pricey. I’ll have to go there after this is over with.”

He moves forward some more, looking at a street, one that doesn’t seem to have as much foot traffic.

“At the right time, at the right angle, and with enough bodies blocking, I could make this happen. Make it look like a kidnapping. Though, I will need a few bigger servants if I’m to do this without being caught myself.”


Oswald stood in an alley nearby, as his shadowy servants looked more, corporeal. They looked to be dressed in black suits, black surgical masks, as if they were guarding someone with power. Which, they were, but with him out of sight the air of mystery was abundant. Including a vehicle meant for high political office, offered a bait too tantalizing to not be taken by someone with higher political aspirations. Palma tried to walk by the servants with his own bodyguards, only to be grabbed between the large frames of Oswald’s guards and pulled inside, into the alley.

While there was struggling being heard, the man’s guards couldn’t penetrate the wall of servants surrounding the alley. After a few minutes, however, the sounds had become mute.

“We have a mutual friend. I’m trying to help him out of his... predicament. You’re going to tell me where he is.”

“Why would I do that? You abducted me!”

“Because there’s profit in it for you.”

He then pulls out a wad of Venezuelan bolivar.

“This entire wad can be yours, if you tell me where a man named Johnny is being kept.”

“You’re crazy!”

He constantly looks around, nervously

“Look, if you’re worried about wires, if you’re worried about anyone hearing you speak some state secret to a foreigner like myself, you have nothing to fear from me. I’m just a guy looking for his friend.”

The smaller man sighed, taking the entire ball of money from Oswald.

“Look, from what I can tell you, he’s being kept in Yare III, it’s a prison. Your man is in big trouble and that is where he’s being kept because of it. No way in. They won’t let you see him. You should go home now.”

Oswald smiles, patting the man on the shoulder.

Then after five minutes had passed since the abduction and since the end of the conversation, mostly the sounds of mumbling coming from the alley, a shortened muffled cry and both the servants and Oz had disappeared with the bolivar spread apart like confetti. The man’s body was on the ground, neck having been twisted around so hard it seemed like it was going to spin off if given another twist.

“Worry about yourself, peon.”


Oswald holds up his hand, causing a large portal to appear in front of himself.

Thunder Knuckles, Bobby and Fury all see the portals appear in front of them. Fury and Bobby shrug and walk through, but TK however, is very apprehensive.

With Bobby and Fury through already, he figured exactly what was going on and growled, moving over to the portal and poking his head through. TK seeing what looks like a decapitated Oswald head come through the portal, causes him to pull out a knife thinking that Oswald had become some kind of zombie demon!

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Oswald turns his head turns to look at TK.

“Get your fucking ass in here!”

Fuck that shit! Hell no man! The last time you had me fall to my goddamn death!

“Would you relax? Nothing’s going to happen to you. Promise.”

You fucking relax! I'll just hang back right here if it's all the fucking same to you!

Oswald's head disappears and his arm comes through the portal grabbing TK by his arms and yanking him through the portal. On the other side TK comes in screaming.

FUUUUUUUuuuck…

TK leans over, patting his chest and panting. He's possibly having a panic attack!

I'm fine! Nobody fucking ask or anything!

Don't be a baby. Nobody does interdimensional travel safer than I.

Oswald chuckled.

“So. I found out where this Johnny is being held.”

Well, spit it the fuck out, and let's fucking go! ... By foot!

He pulls out various blueprints and plans for the facility known as Yare Prison. A series of three structures, the last of which being the building known as Yare III, the building where Johnny is held.

“Here he is. Yare III.”

Oswald’s lips continue moving as he talks about the compound, and on the table, is what seemed to be a wisp of elements in an ornate jar only to see him toss it into the air, and disappear.