The Adventures of the Misfits of Mayhem - Episode 7: Part 3 - The Gala

 

The Adventures of the Misfits of Mayhem - Episode 7: Part 3 - The Gala

The Dark Dominion gathers in splendor as Jack and Polly Mason step into a night of masks, power, and whispered schemes.

Old enemies and new tempters reveal themselves — from Count Vlad’s calculated commands to Dr. Moreau’s sinister revelations.

But amidst the glittering ballroom, one shadow watches Mina Harker with unnerving obsession… and Jack finds his reflection is not entirely his own.

The great ballroom doors creaked open with ceremony, the sound echoing like the prelude to a symphony of decadence. Inside, chandeliers of black crystal bathed the space in crimson light, illuminating a gathering of predators disguised as nobility. Velvet drapes hung from vaulted ceilings, iron gargoyles peered down from the balconies, and every corner seemed alive with whispered schemes.

Mean Jack Mason, sharp in his tailored tuxedo, strolled beside his sister Polly, radiant in an evening gown. She twirled into the room like a delighted child, while Jack lingered at the threshold, smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed the scene.

Jack’s eyes flickered across the crowd:

• Beastfang, brutish and proud, laughing beside a striking redheaded woman. Jack instantly recognized her — Mindy, the one who had sent messages through Negropolis. A cruel chuckle bubbled in Jack’s throat. A snapshot of this scene would eat Skullface Tony alive.
  
  

• Ebeneezer Scrooge, pompous as ever, yammered endlessly to Count Vlad, who barely feigned interest as he swirled his wine.
  
  

• The Wicked Witch, hunched over with Grizelda, trading secrets in hissing whispers.
  
  

• Dr. Frankenstein, animatedly gesturing with two scholarly gentlemen about his latest experiments, glasses clinking in their hands.
  
  

Polly darted across the floor, her squeal of delight announcing her embrace of the hulking Yeti. She clung to him like he was her giant teddy bear, much to the visible irritation of Feral, who narrowed her eyes with territorial jealousy. Polly, oblivious, spun away again, already greeting other Dominion members with singsong cheer.

Jack’s smirk faded when he noticed a figure standing alone in the corner:
A tall man in a flawless black business suit, crimson gloves glowing faintly under the chandeliers, red tie rippling like frozen blood. His black eyes reflected candlelight with obsidian sharpness, and his silver-streaked hair gleamed like polished steel. In one hand he held a silver-tipped cane, but his attention was fixed solely on Mina Harker, who lingered in shadows near Korbi Kong. The man didn’t blink. He watched.

Jack’s gut twisted. Something about him ain’t right…

Along the walls gleamed the HCW championship belts, re-forged in Dark Dominion’s ominous style: blackened metal, crimson filigree, grotesque crests replacing the proud emblems of the past. Among them sat a Dark Dominion version of the NPCW North Pole Title. Jack grinned at the sight, the reflection of the belt’s gold plating dancing in his sunglasses.

---

One of the gentlemen speaking with Dr. Frankenstein broke away and approached Jack with a courteous smile.

Dr. Moreau: “Mean Jack Mason — it’s good to finally make your acquaintance.”

Jack (smirking, extending his hand): “About time. And who might I be shaking hands with?”

The man introduced himself with a slight bow, then motioned toward the other doctor still engrossed with Frankenstein.

Dr. Moreau: “Dr. Adrian Igor Moreau, at your service.”

Jack (low, sardonic chuckle): “Dr. Moreau, eh. I guess I should thank you for my return.”

Dr. Moreau: “I am a geneticist by trade, though credit must be shared. It was my associate, Dr. Goodefellow, who pierced the mental barriers placed on you by that meddling Dr. Casey. I merely brewed a little alchemical concoction to loosen the hinges, shall we say — to help your body embrace Polly’s sweet serenades.”

Jack (smugly): Though if you ask me, I never needed fixing. Just someone to stop holding the leash.

Dr. Moreau (smiling thinly): “Leashes, cages, walls… terminology varies. But your sister’s melodies were always the key. Many assumed you influenced Polly’s darkness as children, but in truth… she was the one drawing the wolf out of the boy. Goodefellow merely learned how to weaponize what she already possessed.”

Jack tilted his head, eyes narrowing — more curious than surprised.

Jack: “So you’re telling me Polly pulled the strings… even back then. Figures. The Mason kids have never needed help starting trouble.”

Dr. Moreau (leaning closer, voice dropping): “Precisely. Dr. Casey built walls around you, but your parents made the mistake of stopping the treatments before Polly could be fully understood. She was the real trigger. Always. You? You were the weapon she aimed.”

Jack (cold grin): “Weapon works just fine. Because tonight, the Mason kids are here to kick ass and take names… and neither of us needs a doctor’s permission slip to do it.”

Moreau’s eyes glimmered with amusement. He folded his hands behind his back and shifted the subject with deliberate ease.

Dr. Moreau: “Your bloodline is… fascinating. Did you know it was your uncle who first allowed the Yeti-human hybrids? His sons became my beloved Beasts. A tragedy for him, perhaps, but a triumph for science.”

Jack’s smile faltered into something harder, his jaw tightening.

Jack: “I suspected. Never had proof. Guess I do now.”

Dr. Moreau (bowing his head slightly): “May he rest in peace. His sacrifice advanced my work immeasurably. And your cousins — ah, such wonderful results. But my eyes now turn to your cousin Molly Mason. Once Yeti resolves matters with Jax Brenner, Molly will be mine to study. You’d be surprised how much potential she carries in her blood.”

Jack stepped in, closing the space between them, voice low and sharp.

Jack: “Touch Molly… and you’ll find out just how dangerous this family gets.”

Dr. Moreau (unflinching, almost delighted): “Such fire. Exactly what I adore in the Mason line. Tell me, Jack — don’t you ever wonder how far the song can take you? How far she can push you?”

Jack smirked again, this time with venom behind it.

Jack: “Doesn’t matter. Polly sings, I fight. Simple equation. You want to play with formulas, fine. Just don’t forget — I break things. Including doctors.”

Moreau chuckled, bowing slightly once more, before excusing himself to rejoin Frankenstein and Count Vlad.

---

Jack swaggered toward the lone figure in the shadows, offering his hand.
Jack: “Jack Mason. Helluva party. And quite the looker over there, eh?” He motioned toward Mina Harker.

The man’s gaze did not waver. Slowly, he turned his head toward Jack, eyes colder than the grave.
Lord Velkan Thorne: “Lord Velkan Thorne.”

No handshake. No acknowledgment of the remark. Only words clipped like contracts.

Jack chuckled nervously, trying to banter, but Thorne’s responses were curt, transactional. Each word carried weight, as though binding Jack to debts he didn’t understand. It was clear: Jack Mason was wasting his time. With a scoff, he turned away, though his unease lingered.

---

Count Vlad emerged from the crowd like a sovereign predator, a goblet of wine in his hand, Beastfang looming at his side.

Vlad (grinning): “Mean Jack Mason. The North Pole title suits you. A fine addition to the Dominion’s collection.”

Jack smirked.
Jack: “Your reach is spreading, Count. HCW, NPCW… your fingerprints are everywhere.But its not the NPCW Universal title.”

Vlad: “The Universal Title? A bauble. A distraction. The North Pole Championship is the true crown. It carries history, legacy. The heroes waste their breath chasing shadows, while we hold substance.”

Jack: “And what about the Alpha Alliance?”

Vlad (chuckling darkly): “Scrooge cannot hold them together. They too were always meant to be a distraction, to soften the North before the real conquest begins.”

Jack nodded, intrigued.
Jack: “So do I take this shiny new Dominion title north?”

Vlad (shaking his head): “Not yet. Its debut must wait until the convergence of HCW and NPCW. Until then, return north… show them who Mean Jack Mason is. Break their spirits. And while you’re at it…” He produced two golden tickets, handing them over with a sly grin. “…enjoy a vacation in the tropics. Show them you fear nothing. Not even them.”

Jack pocketed the tickets, grinning ear to ear.
Jack: “Guess I’ll pack sunscreen. Oh, and Count…” he leaned in, cocky “…think I got a chance with Talia Nocturne?”

Vlad’s grin widened, eyes glinting with mock amusement. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

The gala raged on for hours before guests finally dispersed. Polly skipped down the hall beside her brother, humming her lullaby with manic cheer.
Polly (beaming): “Wasn’t it just wonderful, Jackie?”

Jack chuckled, hands in his pockets.
Jack: “Yeah, sis. I could get used to this.”

Back in his room, he peeled off the tuxedo, poured himself a drink, and checked his phone. Messages flickered across the screen. He typed one, smirked, and slipped the phone away.

He raised his glass toward the mirror.
Jack (smirking): “Time to get a tan on.”

But the reflection that stared back wasn’t Mean Jack’s cocky swagger — it was the haunted, sorrowful face of Madman Mason.

Fade to black.