Patrick 'Eel' O'Brian, sat at his desk looking bored. It wasn't often he was called into his desk mind you, which was probably what MADE it so boring. He wasn't used to it.

In his mind, he should have been out there, chasing the bad guys, working on the cases. After all, he was a Superhero...at least, that's what the newspaper's called him. Here however, he was just-

"Agent O'Brian?" A gravelly voice inquired

"That's me." He nodded, swivelling his chair around to look at the man talking to him. The speaker was an older man, his hair greying at the temples, however he still seemed to have an air of authority and power, his eyes, hawklike, watched Patrick.

Pat was aware he was being appraised, and at the moment, found himself happy he'd decided to wear the dark suit that people seemed to identify with government agents, as opposed to his usual Plastic Man costume.

"Come with me. We have a situation requiring your...various talents." With that, the man began stridingn away.

Giving a confused shrug, Pat followed him, wondering WHICH of his 'various talents' they needed. He didn't want to brag, but he had several. "Well, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Just call me Agent Malloy." He said simply, opening the door to another room and stepping in, Pat had just enough time to slip in before it was closed behind them both.

"So, what is it you need me for?" He finally asked.

"Do you recall a man going by the name 'Thomas Rossi'?" He asked, noting that Agent O'Brian seemed visibly surprised.

"Yeah, back in the thirties he and I were-" He paused, in the thirties, when he was still working as 'The Eel' Rossi had been part of his gang. The same one he tried to rob Crawford Chemical works with.

"My information labels him as one of your compatriots, and also one of your first collars as 'Plastic Man'." Agent Malloy finished for him.

"Yeah...that's true...but...what's so important about him? I mean...he was a big guy in the thirties, but times have changed, and he'd STILL have to be older than dirt."

Malloy allowed a humorless grin to play on his features. "Given the activities of some people, i'd say age isn't much of an issue these days. And with the rapid restructuring going on among criminals, a clever, ruthless individual could easily take a large chunk of the underworld."

Pat sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So you want me to get back into his good graces, collect evidence, and get him put behind bars, is that it?" He asked.

"That's it exactly." Malloy nodded. "We've already begun arranging the latest caper of the recently out of retirement 'Eel O'Brian' all you have to do it roll with it."

"Fine." He nodded, already changing his form and shape, it seemed as though he was aging on a time lapse and soon, a visibly similer, albeit it decades older Patrick O'Brian stood before Agent Malloy.

"Let's do it." O'Brian sighed. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.

He was right. He didn't like it.

The capter had had to be big to get attention. It had to show The Eel still had it even at his age. And then, he had to live up to his name once again.

Patrick O'Brian had been nicknamed 'The Eel' because he always managed to wriggle his way out of capture. And so it was this time as he shot at the swat unit chasing him.

The bullets were fake thankfully. The men acting FBI agents playing a role.

Supposedly he was hitting a bank, but this one wasn't a hit for money, there were certain bits of government information were stored in it. Information classified on a number of scales.

Why was it there? Again, supposedly a 'government flub' and that no one would suspect it.

No one of course, but the Eel.

Pat sighed, sinking into the seat of his car as he was driving, flattening against the side of his car as he took a curve most drivers would have considered too dangerous at half the speed he was going.

"Escape always was the fun part..." He sighed, adjusting the mirror. He had a few government files, some of which he had 'liberated' from the bank, the others were information on Rossi.

"Step one, complete. The Eel's out of retirement and needs a gang now. Soon on to step two: getting the gang."

Eel paced the small hotel room he'd rented. It was, after all, only meant as a temporary retreat. Still with the word traveling fast in the underworld that The Eel was back in the game, and had taken some highly desirable information. He just had to wait now...wait for...

"That." He whispered, turning his gaze too the room's front door, which despite him having the only card for the locks, was opening. "Who the hell're you?" He demanded, trying to sound gruff.

"Hello, Eel." Standing in the doorway was an older man, his hair grey and receding well from the forehead, he stood about average height, but appeared to have packed on a few pounds in old age and dressed in the archetypal pinstripe suit. On either side he was flanked by two large men. "Remember me?"

Eel paused, looking over at them. He knew all right, but still, he had to play his cards right. "Tommy? How's life been treatin' you?" He smirked.

"Oh you know, went to jail for a few years, got out and had to work my way from a pickpocket again. Villains've been making life hard on all of us. But the times, they are a-changing. Again." He grinned.

"How so?"

"Let me make you a...proposition."

Eel sat back down on the bed, listening to Thomas speak.

"Y'see Eel, things have been going down hill for guys like you an' me since the thirties. First a few cities got heroes. Fine, we could work around them. Then the villains started showing up and it seemed like there were five villains for each 'hero'." Thomas had begun to pace the room as he spoke. "But still, things were harder, but not impossible. We were getting smarter too. Outwitting the police, hell, Bonnie and Clyde had weapons only the army could get their hands on! But the game kept changing. The heroes banded together, the Government started the FBI, guys like you an' me...we were obsolete. Sure the mob held on, but that's because as time passed the villains wanted the bigger scores, they left running the show, drugs, weapons that sorta stuff to the little guys..."

Eel nodded, making sure the recording device in the top button on his shirt was working. "Go on." He implored.

"Well, times changed again. Today we have the villains working in the 'Secret Society', we've got the heroes in Outsiders, Justice League, Justice Society, Teen Titans, and Young Justice and almost every major city has both heroes and villains. And NOW some two-bit upstart in New York is taking over syndicates with a metahuman!" He spat out. "We're being pushed out of everything. The only option we have is to organize better. Which means we need people with money, with brains, and with connections all working together!"

"I see what'cha mean," Eel played along with it, though he had to admit Thomas made some sense and certainly had passion for what he was getting into. "tell me more."

The old gangster smiled. "I thought you'd be interested. I came to give you an invitation to my own little group. We're a bunch of...likeminded criminals. Some people you'll even remember from the 'Old Guard' in the thirties."

"Mmmm, lots of old gangs back together huh?"

"Oh, it's more than that. We've managed to bring in fresh new faces, and make a lot of new connections. You could say...we're about to make things like they used too be." Thomas smiled deviously.

"Alright Tommy, I'm in." Eel declared, standing up.

The group had been trying to stay under the radar for the past few days as, one by one, they departed the city Eel was taking refuge in.

"Hub City?" Plas asked, blinking as the car and he Thomas were in passed a sign. It was heavily covered in graffiti to the point where the city's name was just barely legible. Even for someone like 'The Eel' Hub City was a bad place.

"Oh yes," Thomas smiled. "it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Running the group that's eventually going to place the Underworld back in the hands of the men who made it work in the first place, out of the place considered the most curropt city in America. Gathering the most ruthless, the most vicious, and most brilliant men in crime together."

"Sounds like one hell of a powder keg." Plastic Man remarked, looking out the windows. "What happens if things go south?"

"Then we escape. You'd be surprised how easy it is to trigger a riot big enough to hide the escape of a major criminal." He chuckled, eventually pulling them into the parking lot of what looked like a delapidated motel. "I know, I know, it's a bit low class for our ambitions, but that means it's less likely to be looked into."

"Actually, I was going to comment on how cliche this place is. But that works too." He chuckled, wondering, not for the first time, how they planned to accomplish the goals Rossi had told him about.