Midas sat at the head of the gilded table, smiling while reclining languidly, smoke slowly billowing from a cigarette and mingling with the smoke which slowly flowed from behind his throne. His seat was just in front of the illumination of a grand fireplace, above which was some sort of cloth mask. Its bright red coloration stood out starkly in the mostly gold war room, and it was pinned to the wall by a golden nail. It was the mask of the first hero Midas ever defeated. His family could only identify the body from the costume.

Bathed in light, Midas struck an imposing image. He wore a simple navy blue shirt, with a jacket of the same color and golden accents draped over his shoulders. He wore Windsor glasses with purple lenses that hid his eyes completely. What really stood out were the pounds of glittering gold draped all over his person; bangles and bracelets of solid gold shimmering in the light, and four separate finger-thick necklaces of gold, barely peeking from the shadow cast by his head and jacket, weighed down his neck. Each finger had at least one golden ring on it, and one ringed hand rested atop a four foot tall cane adorned with a skull.

Midas flashed a grin of full golden teeth, reflecting the light of the fireplace. He set his cigarette down next to his wide brimmed hat and steepled his fingers, taking in the other three people sitting around the table.

To his left was a man who could only be described as “large”. If Midas’ power wasn’t influencing the chair he was sitting in, it would have been too small for him, and too weak to support him. Most who dealt with him knew him as Greenfinger, but those at the table knew him as Sebastian Needle. An American who had moved to the area and quickly built up something of a drug empire. His hair was cut short and his clothes were clearly expensive. His fat finger tapped repeatedly on the table, the sound resounding through the otherwise silent room.

Annoyed that he was being made to wait, Midas knew.

To his right was a mutant. A tall, thin man with an owl’s head, in fashionable attire. Behind him was an assistant, a beautiful young woman, who held a briefcase in her arms. Tatarimokke, or Haruka Pulch, was an eccentric of the highest caliber. Midas had deliberated on the framing of the scene specifically to cater to his insane obsession with beauty, setting two almost infinite spirals of gold behind him, so that upon entering they would seem to be placed just above his shoulders. Judging by the owl’s faint widening of the eyes as he had walked in, it had worked. The woman with the briefcase was named… Recino, or something, Midas couldn’t quite remember. She looked visibly nervous. Unlike Sebastian, Pulch had no tells giving away his annoyance, but Midas knew that he didn’t appreciate the tardiness. He had brought an expensive bottle of Daiginjo, and the holdup was stopping the group from indulging.

The room was tense, and Midas could feel an argument coming. Greenfinger and Tatarimokke were both volatile personalities in their own ways, which made them difficult to manage. It’d make what he was proposing today a delicate balancing act. However, he’d gotten to know them over the past year or so that their little group had been communicating and working together, and he knew what they liked and disliked. The carrots to go with their sticks. Greenfinger would want money, obviously, and an opportunity to indulge in his cruelty. He would love a chance to get one over on that hero who had been stifling his operations. Tatarimokke was a fanatic, in his own way, and he’d have to take care to cater to his obsession with beauty while not offending him personally through action or inaction. It would be a careful balancing act, one that would change slightly from a certain someone jumping on the scale…

Just as Greenfinger rose from his seat, seemingly incensed by something, the doors to the room burst open. Standing in the doorway, having pushed open two heavy solid gold doors, was the final member of this little meeting. Cammy Link, his Karma chameleon. Midas flashed a golden smile, using his power to slam the doors closed as Cammy bound across the room towards him holding a sack. She still had very slight bruising around her neck from a recent excursion, but he knew it wasn’t from tonight.

“Ah! Karma, you’re here. Fashionably late. Take a seat, take a seat, let us indulge in your ill-gotten gains together. Why don’t you present your recent find to the group, hm? Oh but first, of course, a drink! Courtesy of our wonderful Haruka, as usual.” Midas said

A golden tendril reached from the floor to grab Karma by the scruff before she could reach Midas’ seat. She deftly jumped backwards, dodging it without sparing a glance as she moved to the seat across the table from him. Even as this happened, golden cups emerged from the table in front of every seat as a golden hand emerged next to the bottle of Daiginjo and began to pour out a drink for everyone.

Greenfinger sat back down with a huff, and Tatarimokke’s keen eyes were observing Karma’s every move. She set her canvas bag onto the table, with a clink.

Before she could extract her ill gotten gains, Midas raised a finger.

“First, we drink! To future profits, to friends, and to freedom!” Midas drank deeply from his cup. The Daiginjo was fine, but to him partaking in the drink was more about the shared ritual than the actual drink.

Karma’s face scrunched up in something akin to disgust, and Greenfinger visibly suppressed a grimace. Tatarimokke was as inscrutable as usual. Midas finished his drink and smiled.

“Now,” Midas said, “show us what you’ve earned.”

“Well, see for yourselves!”

Karma proudly dumped out the contents of the bag, one extremely gaudy and overly large crown, inlaid with at least ten different types of precious gems, easily worth. She lifted the crown up, presenting it proudly as both Greenfinger and Tatarimokke eyed it hungrily.

Midas considered their looks. The two men clearly both wanted the crown, and he knew that they could afford it. He had a buyer set up already, this heist having been planned for weeks. He could get around five hundred million yen for it. However, Tatarimokke clearly wanted to make a bid for it, evidenced by the briefcase his assistant carried, but him buying it would likely anger Greenfinger, who would feel cheated.

What to do, he wondered. He thought back to the carrot and stick. His plan had one for Greenfinger that he was sure would reel him in, but Tatrimokke didn't have as strong of a connection. He might need to give the owl headed man his due if he wanted his cooperation later.

Greenfinger piped up, “I’d be more than willing to keep it safe while we procure a buyer, Midas.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tatarimokke said, “I am willing to pay three hundred million yen for it, right now. From my personal finances, of course.”

As he spoke, his assistant stepped forward, opening the briefcase she carried and presenting the money within to the group.

“We could easily sell it for more, you birdbrained imbecile. Besides, what would you do with it anyways?” said Greenfinger. He was turning very slightly red, hard to see in the low lighting of the room.

“What I do with it is my own business. I am of course willing to retract my bid, but I thought to make my intentions known.”

“Bring the crown here, Karma, if you’d please.” Midas interrupted. Karma did as asked, and Midas spent some time inspecting the crown, turning it in his hands. As he put it atop his head, the room was absolutely silent. The gold of the room seemed to writhe and swirl as he wore it in absolute silence, as if it were some massive being considering its place in the world, trying to get comfortable. All at once, it stopped, and he scowled.

“It doesn’t fit right. Feels silly. You have it, leave the money here.” The crown flew through the air, and Tatarimokke’s assistant barely caught it before it could hit the ground, her sloppy display obviously displeasing him.

“And now Greenfinger, before you say anything, listen to what I’m about to say.” Indeed, the massive man had already begun to rise, but he sat down at Midas’ words. He took a rapid sip from his cup and coughed as it hit the back of his throat, which seemed to make him even angrier, but he remained silent.

“I didn’t bring us all here just to celebrate our little lady’s newest heist. Though that’s not to say it isn’t worth celebrating. It’s just, I’ve been thinking. We’re the Night Parade, right? We got together to do what we do best with security, with people to fall back on, like-minded individuals who we could depend on and who the heroes and government would fear to anger. And yet, here we are, in some hideout. Keeping ourselves to minor crimes, isolated incidents. That first night that we marched, the mayhem we caused, why, good men and women were afraid to leave their homes for days! I say we go back to that. I say the Night Parade marches again. I’ve been planning, reaching out to the dirtiest folk in the underworld for our procession. We can do something, strike fear into the hearts of the heroes again.”

“What, exactly, are you proposing?” said Greenfinger, leaning in slightly.

“I’ve carefully considered this. Shiketsu High, the hero school. We’ll let people know that we aren’t to be trifled with. I know you’ve all been having your troubles with heroes. Greenfinger, that Rosethorn woman who’s been hitting your suppliers, being a real thorn in your side? She’s got a teaching job there. You can finally get your hands on her.

“Karma, you haven’t been open about it, but I know you got into something of a scuffle with a certain dragon, hm? Wouldn’t you like to get back at him? And besides, think of the headlines: ‘Villain Sneaks Into Hero School, Heroes Humbled!’.”

At some point in his little speech, Midas had stood up, and now his arms were open wide. The gold around him swirled like a whirlpool, and as he calmed down the gold stopped writhing. He took a steadying breath and looked to his comrades.

Greenfinger was smiling wickedly, surely thinking of the pain he would bring to the hero who had been bringing him so much pain. Karma seemed thoughtful, with a small smile on her face, likely considering how exactly she could break into the hero school. Tatarimokke was stoic, but Midas could tell that he’d be willing to participate, if perhaps only from the sidelines.

It was official. The Night Parade would march again.