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Rogue's Gallery: And The Court Shall Grin

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In the streets of London, an Italian Reporter was on his way to a chemical factory. He had a large scarf around his mouth, due to dental reasons. Of course, he wasn't really Italian, nor was he a reporter- it was merely a guise for him to wear in order to obtain the last ingrediants for his brew. It had been easy so far- merely placing an order, and allowing it to arrive- now he just needed to pay. He clutched a syringe in his pocket tightly. The dental problem wasn't true- but seeing his mouth would cause disrest, considering the cheeks were hacked away to place in a bear trap of a grin. Charles Dodsgon walked into the factory, and came out minutes later, with the chemicals and the staff infected by an older strain of virus.
 
A man strolled by the chemical factory with a guitar in his left hand. The man wasn't really a man, he was actually a woman who was degusie. The woman was known as Alex. She gave a slight hum as she kept walking, she was waiting for her "friend" to meet her.
 
The 'Italian Reporter' passed 'him' by, sitting down on a bench. "Lovely weatherible. Later, it will rain cats and dogs." He said, leaving the bag of chemicals on the bench as he strolled off.
 
At Charlotte International Airport in North Carolina, what appeared to be a punk-goth woman right out of the 80's made a phone call to Los Angeles, California...asking for a last known address for a Keith Lara...obtaining this and his land and cell phone number, she then dialed it, hoping that Joy Harperson was not lying about the man she was contacting...but she had to make sure he was not at home...they had arranged to meet at this semi-busy airport to fly to London, as long as his Las Vegas friend showed up..

OOC:@Hide in Plain Sight and @Stellar Haze, your cues!
 
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Alex would tilt her head in agreement. "Aye.. Rains brings the monster out of people.." She replied. She would grab the bag of chemicals and then start strolling once more. She lifted her head slightly glancing upwards showing her wicked grin showed.
 
"Why the hell do I have to be the one to meet them?" Caballero Noir frowned as he walked through the crowded airport, he was wearing a pair of long black jeans and a white jacket over a black colored sweater along with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. Keith Lara had transformed into his older alter ego earlier that day something that annoyed the spirit greatly.

"Well what do you think people will think of a thirteen year old coming to meet them and telling them he's a superhero?" Keith asked form inside Caballero's mind. "I don't think it'll incite a lot of respect." she pointed out bitterly. "You at least look 19.

"You know I don't like to meet new people and you know that you annoying little pest," Caballero groaned before he looked towards a woman dressed in a punk-goth fashion. "I think that's here," he said before he began making his way towards the woman."
 
"Sailor V is an idol..."

Olenka said, hoping that the 19-year old man was Caballero Noir, and not a random cosplayer...
 
"Alright, where is The Cleric? Did he go ahead of us?"

If he did, I'll have rip apart his ticket...no wait, if I give it to a person bound for London, I claim it as a tax-deductible donation to charity if I file correctly!
 
"Charmed...our chartered flight takes off in 10 minutes...I've "arranged" for Hubert Keller to be your personal chef for free...I have meal plans on the way to the plane, as I saw a pickpocket at the water fountain up ahead..."
 
"A famous French Chef who operates out of Las Vegas. I assumed the Cleric would be here...but you'll like the fact that he has a restaurant in San Francisco. I think you'll be suprised by what he has"agreed" to prepare..." she said w/a smirk...
 
Olenka touched his hand..."Did Keith want a gourmet meal?" she said...
 
Unbeknownst to Olenka and Caballero, the Cleric had been watching the pair for some time. He was curious as to what he'd be working with on this mission. The truth of the matter was that he took the job solely because he was a British native and it would be nice to have an excuse to go back to his first home.

Hearing something about the time, a personal chef, and a chartered jet intrigued him and he decided he might as well go over. Removing his black sunglasses from his eyes, he made his presence known. "I must say that hearing about French cuisine has got me intrigued... although I must say I'm not sure that your persuasion methods are the most virtuous." He commented dryly. "But I suppose I can't complain... after all, that's a whole lot better than your typical airline food."
 
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