The Adventures of the Misfits of Mayhem - Episode 5: The Count’s Gambit

 

The Adventures of the Misfits of Mayhem - Episode 5: The Count’s Gambit

As Lady Molly prepares for a critical interrogation, the enigmatic Count Vlad steps into her web of questions and secrets.

While Sherlock watches and Negropolis broods behind the glass, a chilling link to Polly Mason and Dr. Moreau begins to surface.

In the shadows of KBL HQ, one truth becomes clear—hope may be the Misfits’ weapon, but darkness always has a plan.

PROLOGUE 

Location: The Offices of the KBL Wrestling Organization – 4th Floor, Office 407

The morning sun filters reluctantly through the high arched windows of the KBL tower, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The 4th floor is hushed this early—save for the low hum of fluorescent lights and the ticking of a tall brass clock nestled between dusty filing cabinets.

Behind the door marked Office 407, Lady Molly of Scotland Yard sits poised at a broad oak desk. Her gloved fingers rest lightly on a leather-bound notebook, eyes scanning her meticulously kept notes. The scent of bergamot and paper lingers in the air. She's dressed in a tailored coat of midnight blue, a silk scarf wrapped neatly about her throat. Every inch the image of precision and elegance.

On the desk before her lies a dossier marked: COUNT VLADISLAV DRAGOMIR — PERSON OF INTEREST.

"Flippers," she murmurs under her breath, her gaze drifting to a candid photo of the beloved penguin mascot. His beady eyes stare back innocently. "Kidnapped under mysterious circumstances... and all signs lead to the Count."

A knock at the door, firm but deliberate.

She straightens her posture, reaching for her teacup. Earl Grey. Still warm. She glances at the brass clock: 8:35 AM.
He’s early if that’s him, she thinks. Interesting.

Lady Molly doesn't flinch. “Come in,” she says crisply, setting her teacup down with grace.

The door creaks open, but it is not Count Vlad who steps in.

A towering figure fills the frame—broad-shouldered and cloaked in a charcoal trench coat. A black skull mask covers his face, opaque sunglasses shielding his eyes. He moves like a storm cloud, silent and imposing.

Negropolis

Lady Molly arches a brow, though her voice remains composed.
“Negropolis. This is unexpected. What brings the harbinger of doom to my humble office?”

Negropolis steps forward, his boots echoing against the floor. His voice rumbles like distant thunder.
“I understand you’re meeting with Count Vlad today.”
A beat. “I want in.”

Molly’s lips curl slightly, an amused glint in her eye.
“I’m afraid I work alone, Mr. Negropolis.”

He leans slightly forward, voice low and grave.
“Don’t underestimate the Count. He’s more dangerous than he looks. Charming, yes. Sophisticated. But behind the silver tongue is a mind steeped in blood, smoke, and centuries of control. If he is behind Flippers’ disappearance…”
He pauses.
“…then Jack Mason—and maybe the rest of us—are already in danger.”

Molly studies him, reading far more than his words. There’s steel in his stance, but the worry is real. Concern, not just for his tag partner, but for something deeper.

“You care for Jack,” she says softly.

Negropolis stiffens. “I need my tag partner healthy. Focused. We’re tag team champions, and we’ll need each other for what’s coming.”

A gentle smile crosses Lady Molly’s face. She gestures to the side room, its door barely cracked open.
“Then you may observe. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are already watching the feed. You’ll be just a door away if anything… unexpected occurs.”

Negropolis nods, then turns to go.

“Anthony,” she says suddenly.

He stops cold.

“Jack is lucky to have a friend like you,” she continues, her voice sincere.

He turns his masked face slowly toward her.
“When the mask is on… I’m Negropolis.”
His voice is quieter now, edged with something unspoken. “Never break kayfabe, Lady Molly.”

He steps into the surveillance room, shutting the door behind him with a gentle thud. Inside, Sherlock Holmes peers over a monitor and nods politely.

“Come join us, Mr. Negropolis,” Holmes says with dry enthusiasm. “The curtain is about to rise.”

Dr. Watson offers him a chair, to which Negropolis grunts a noncommittal reply and crosses his arms instead, standing sentinel by the screens.

Back in Office 407, Lady Molly lifts her pen and scribbles deliberately into her notebook:

Jack Mason – Polly Mason – Lullabies – Psychological Strain – Count Vlad?
Lines are connecting... now to tighten the noose.

She glances at the time again: 8:47 AM.

He’ll be here soon.

Lady Molly takes one last sip of tea and closes her notebook with a soft snap.

THE INTERVIEW

Scene: KBL Wrestling Headquarters – Office 407 – 9:00 AM Sharp

The ticking of the antique clock on the wall feels louder than usual. The morning sun filters through the heavy drapes of Lady Molly’s temporary office. The air is still, but pregnant with tension. She sits upright at her desk, poised and calm, her notebook open, a fountain pen resting at the ready. Every element on her desk is perfectly arranged: her gloves folded neatly, a cup of strong tea untouched, and a dossier with a blood-red wax seal now cracked open.

There is a knock at the door. Two quick raps. Polite. Punctual.

“Come in,” Lady Molly calls, her voice serene but steel-threaded.

The door opens, and in steps Count Vladislav Dragomir—every inch the aristocratic predator. Sharp tailored suit of deep charcoal. An elegant cane—more ornament than necessity—taps once against the tile floor. His eyes, cool and unreadable, scan the room like a chess master walking into a game already in progress.

Lady Molly stands, offering only the faintest smile. “Count Vlad. Thank you for coming.”

The Count inclines his head. “Lady Molly. When a lady summons, it would be impolite not to oblige.” He sits across from her uninvited, but not rudely. A power move. She allows it.

LADY MOLLY (evenly, pen poised): “Let’s begin simply, Count. What is your relationship with the Misfits of Mayhem — Negropolis and MadMan Mason?”

COUNT VLAD (flatly): “They were instruments. I equipped them. They malfunctioned. A common issue with flawed tools.”

LADY MOLLY (dryly): “And yet you didn’t cut them off. You sent them here.”

COUNT VLAD: “They escaped. That was their choice. I merely chose not to intervene. Observation often reveals more than confrontation.”

LADY MOLLY (writing): “Escaped or reassigned?”

COUNT VLAD (smirking): “My dear, I do not give second chances. They were cast-offs.”

LADY MOLLY: “Interesting. Because I have evidence that suggests otherwise. Records indicate they were sent to NPCW on Dominion business. That they were… agents.”

COUNT VLAD: “They were under observation. They failed their trials.”

LADY MOLLY: “They became champions.”

COUNT VLAD (dismissively): “Even a broken clock is correct twice a day.  If they achieved anything, it reflects the quality—or lack thereof—of NPCW’s tag team division”

LADY MOLLY (pleasantly): “Let’s speak of another associate. Do you know the creature known as Flippers?”

COUNT VLAD (curt): “An irritant. Mascots usually are.”

LADY MOLLY: “He’s involved with your former agents.”

COUNT VLAD (glancing aside): “That would explain their regression. A cartoonish influence Lady Molly shifts in her seat, graceful but deliberate. She’s tightening the noose.

LADY MOLLY: “Let’s speak of other associates. A name: Ace MacDougall.”

COUNT VLAD: “A courier. A delivery man.  His usefulness was limited.”

LADY MOLLY: “What did he transport?”

COUNT VLAD (cold): “Whatever the job required. Mainly classified cargo. I trust you understand the concept.”

LADY MOLLY: “And you never saw fit to mention this previously?”

COUNT VLAD: “Irrelevant details bore me. I prioritize importance.”

LADY MOLLY (sharper): “And what about your heritage, Count Vladislav Dragomir… Patriarch of House Dragomir, one of the five progeny houses of Count Dracula himself?”

COUNT VLAD (low, pointed): “Ah, yes. That old tale. I try to stay out of family drama. Bloodlines are useful in politics. Less so in evolution.”

She flips a page in her notebook and reads without looking up.

LADY MOLLY: “Cayman Island accounts. Hidden funds. Off-the-record transactions.”

COUNT VLAD: “Asset management. Not everyone trusts banks... or governments. Unfortunate loss thanks to Detective Holmes.”

LADY MOLLY: “25 Million is a great amount of money.”

COUNT VLAD (cooly): “To some yes.”

Lady Molly makes a note and then turns a page.

LADY MOLLY: “And your relationship with Arden Vantrell?”

There’s a pause.

COUNT VLAD (neutral): “Arden? The Circle’s Grand Manipulator? An admired thinker. We share philosophies.  I visited the monastery in my youth. Enlightening in its own way. Nothing more.”

LADY MOLLY: “Any allegiances you may have formed within the Circle’s members?”

COUNT VLAD (with a sneer): “The path I have chosen is not one that the Circle has interest in. I need no allies from that group to walk it.”

LADY MOLLY (leans forward): “And Mistress Tynell?”

COUNT VLAD (dismissively): “An old acquaintance from a time long past.”

LADY MOLLY (eyebrow raised): “Your calls to her were recent. Ongoing. Not youthful curiosity, surely.”

A pause and a noticeable shift. His fingers drum his cane softly.

COUNT VLAD (icily): “She and I discuss family matters. What we do is none of your concern.”

LADY MOLLY: “It is when it overlaps with a missing penguin.”

COUNT VLAD (mocking smile): “Do you want me to check the zoo?”

Molly pulls a small printout from a folder and lays it gently on the desk.

LADY MOLLY: “A message. From Negropolis to you. Bragging about the Misfits’ victory.”

COUNT VLAD (tone colder): “Their arrogance will be their undoing. But what do I care?”

LADY MOLLY: “But you do. Don’t you? What is the saying? ‘You don't cross the Count!’ If you sent them here to fail, to provide a false narrative that the Dark Dominion is not dangerous, and they flourished—became symbols of resistance—it undermines you. Especially with a penguin at their side. A symbol of hope. Hard to spread shadows where hope glows. What does that say about your control?”

COUNT VLAD (quietly): “Control is not exerted. It is anticipated. I let them run. The leash can always be yanked.”

LADY MOLLY: “That leash looks awfully frayed.”

COUNT VLAD (coldly): “The illusion of freedom and the glow of hope always brings down to bear the darkness shadows”

Lady Molly flips the final page.

LADY MOLLY: “Polly Mason. Where is she?”

COUNT VLAD: “Gone. After her loss… she left.”

LADY MOLLY (smiling): “A mission for you perhaps?”

COUNT VLAD: “To find herself. I believe she mentioned visiting… family.””

LADY MOLLY (intensely): “Jack Mason, her brother?”

COUNT VLAD (coolly): “She’s with… other family.”

She circles “cousins” in her notebook.

LADY MOLLY: “After what she did to her cousin, Molly Mason, I do wonder what other family?”

COUNT VLAD: “There is more to family than blood …”

LADY MOLLY (softly): “One last question, Count. How do you know Dr. Moreau?”

Now there’s real hesitation. Subtle—but noticeable. Vlad tilts his head.

COUNT VLAD (measured): “He is a man of vision. He unlocks what lies beneath. Who we truly are. Unafraid to peel back masks. We all wear masks, Lady Molly. The wise learn to live without them.”

Molly’s eyes narrow.

LADY MOLLY: “Thank you, Count. That will be all. I’ll be in touch.”

VLAD (rising): “Do try to be discrete. Some truths, once uncovered, stain everything.”

He turns, cane tapping once, and opens the door.

Sherlock Holmes and Negropolis are watching from the monitor room. As Vlad exits, Holmes mutters, “That man is playing a very long game.”

Negropolis crosses his arms. “We better end it before he makes the next move.”

Closing Beat:

Lady Molly sits alone again, flipping through her notes. She circles three names:
  Polly Mason. Arden Vantrell. Dr. Moreau.

Below, she writes in neat script:
  "The Circle tightens. And darkness always has a plan."

Fade out.