Club Floor

The jazz band finishes their set and the audience assembled tonight gives them a round of applause as the MC steps up onto the stage and up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it again for the Newman Five!" He steps back from the mic and gestures to the four men and their female singer, bringing his hands together to clap. The audience follows his lead in lauding the house band. Roger Newman, the piano player and lead for the group stands from his bench and takes a bow. Once he's seated and the applause dies down, the MC steps back up to the mic. "Now, I want to introduce you to a wonderful young act. She's been featured here in Heaven a few times now, always a hit. Please put your hands together for the Amazing Jean Grey!"

Steven was still working out a response to Monet when the Emcee announced Jean's performance.

"Shall we find some seats before it's too late?" he suggested. The view from the bar was minimal at best.

Monet had clapped rather enthusiastically at the announcement. She found that tended to incluence the people around her. She was rather looking forward to seeing how Jean used her talents in front of people 'hiding them in plain sight' as well as the entertainment itself

"Of course, Mr Grant" Monet said easily as the applause began to cease. She picked up her drink and followed him to another seat a little closer

Jean had been backstage, fussing with hair and makeup... when she heard the MC's annoucement.  Oh God, was she that late?  Striding out to her hidden stage cart, Jean took her place... and then walked out to the club's audience, with a dainty wave and cart in tow.  Taking off her top hat, Jean took an introductory bow.

"Hello!  Wonderful to see so many happy faces.  For those of you new to Club Heaven, prepare to be dazzled... by the very reasonable bar prices... and hopefully my act."

Her show began with some minor stuff... a flashy card trick, a name guessing game, etc.  All of it was designed to set a plausible enough suspicion of smoke and mirrors, while wetting the appetite of her audience.  Jean's first 'big' trick required a member of the crowd to assist.  Steven was a tempting target... but Jean had someone else in mind.  Upon a fold up painting stand she set up a dinner tray with a bullseye target taped over its back ... and then with a flourish Jean revealed a set of throwing knives.  She took one knife and then moved among her audience.

"I need a volunteer... someone with a steady hand.  Hmmm, I'm not sure this row will do... how about... YOU sir.  Yes, the masked man.  I'm sure you're very handy with a knife.  I want you to take this razor sharp blade and throw it at this target, as close to the center as you can.  Ladies and gentlemen, give him some encouragement."

Jean then passed the knife to the volunteer who just happened to be.... Taskmaster!

Another figure in a mask enters the club, like many others here wearing a metal mask. He checks his green cloak with a heavy bronze clasp at the door. He wears a tuxedo with white gloves.

He takes a seat in the back to watch the show. The waitress approaches her and he leans to whisper. She returns with a very small cup of very strong coffee laden with middle eastern spices. She passes the waitress a very large bill and nods to her. She stares at the bill in surprise, then thanks him and goes back to helping other customers.

"Oh crap" Monet breathed quietly. She had caught sight of the new comer in a mirror and wasn't happy. Careful not to react directly she reached towards Marc's ear. To an observer perhaps whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Inaudible over the background to any normal person other than Marc

"Mr Grant. Forgive me for being forward. I am something of a judge of character .. and... if you were different to how you are I would try to persuade you to leave this illegal speakeasy now. I rate the chance of extreme violence and unpeasantness has moved from negligable to 'medium'. Should that happen, might I prevail on you to act as Miss Gray's protector rather than I? You have a streak of Chivalry a mile wide, which is a quality that I respect and admire. In the event of that violence occuring, please direct those emotions towards Miss Gray rather than myself"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:47, Sun 16 July 2023.

"Ah...." Steven looked in the direction that Monet had been, and saw the man in the metal mask. She knew who he was, then? Or at least suspected? That put her one up on Steven, then. Her request seemed fair enough, though, regardless. If the man in the iron mask decided to make trouble, Steven would get Jean out of the way. That would limit his ability to intervene as Moon Knight, but saying so would mean giving away his secret identity. "You have my word."

In reply to Warren Worthington III (msg # 71):

Taskmaster actually laughed out loud at Warren's words. Not a mocking laugh mind you, but a genuine, deep, belly laugh. He almost started coughing, before he took a steadying breath.

"Forgive me, Mr. Worthington, I mean no offense. Yes, I could be playing an angle, and we live in a world of swindlers, so I don't blame you your caution. I would have hoped that my reputation would put any such fears of yours to rest, as I like to think myself a man of my word. But the idea that I would play tricks if I wanted someone dead...Sir, when I want someone dead, they die, whether I am getting paid or not. Now, I do believe in the philosophy of never doing something for free that you are good at, but in this violent world, that simply isn't practical. Now, I fear by the time you discern that his interest is real, that will be the instant before my bullet goes through your skull. But hey, maybe your money can loosen a few lips," he finished with an amused shrug.

When he felt the spotlight, and the attention of the dame on stage fall over him, the masked man paused halfway through cutting another strip of steak. While no one could see his full expression, from the way he cocked his head, it was clear that he was cocking an incredulous eyebrow.

"I fear your entertainment is spoiling our meeting, and my meal. Do indulge me for a moment," Taskmaster said to his dining companion.

Standing to his feet, Taskmaster wiped his mouth with the table napkin, and replaced the lower part of his mask with an audible click. Bowing to the young redhead onstage, he smoothed out his suit as he stood back to attention.

"ALAS, ANOTHER TIME PERHAPS. YOU CAN FIND ANOTHER TO ASSIST YOU. BUT! I SHALL NOT LEAVE YOU COMPLETELY EMPTY HANDED!" he called over the din of the crowd.

Faster than the human eye could register, Taskmaster's right hand flicked towards stage, a Jack of Hearts hurtling towards the dining tray with enough force to pass halfway through the thing, should their be no interference. The woman had opened up with card tricks, after all. Why not follow her example?

As the audience gasps, the man in the metal masks stands and turns towards Masters. He stands and claps slowly. The rest of the audience soon follows suit.

Obviously she was disappointed in Taskmaster opting out of her trick.  But Jean had to play it cool in front of the Boss, so she resisted the urge to sabotage the assassin's throw or otherwise throw shade on him.  The greater priority was in fixing her damaged target tray...

"Music please!"

Returning to the stage, she did some quick repairs to the tray... enough to last through her act.  As for the Jack of Hearts, Jean scooped it up with a cloth and put it in one of her card decks... for safe keeping.  Who knew what sort of psychic impression it would have?  Probably nightmare fuel...

I don't even want to know how he did such damage with a card... she mused.

Once done, Jean made a sweeping motion back to Taskmaster's table, but to a different recipient this time.

"Ahem.  Ladies and Gentlemen, perhaps we should give a go to Mr Worthington."

Jean brought out her throwing knives to the Boss (in addition to the one Taskmaster had declined), handing them over as if there were extremely dangerous objects (which around 'some' people, they definitely were!).  Warren was free to pick any of the four gold tasseled knives.  Even if Warren wasn't a professional knife thrower, Jean suspected he could wing it well enough...

"Shall we make things interesting?"

Jean returned to the stage and picked up the tray (displaying both sides, of course)... before holding it out on front of her.

"Please make your throw when I say the word... 'loose'."

To Marc's view, Monet seemed to relax rather than tense as the spectacle erupted in front of them. Perhaps that was because tensing up slowed you down? In any case she breathed a sigh of relief as he left "One serial killer less in the room" she said quietly "Got to be good right?" Marc could almost see her thinking and wondering 'what he and Warren had been been talking about'.

Taking a sip of her coloured water she nodded to that stage. "This should be interesting. I wonder how good Mr Worthington actually is with a knife"

"Who knows?" Steven replied. Worthington looked like the kind of guy who could handle himself, but a thrown knife was something that didn't just happen. It required skill and practice. But this was a magic trick, so it hardly mattered what Worthington could do on his own. "Miss Grey has something up her sleeve, of course."

That was perhaps literally true. She was a stage magician. But Steven had the feeling that she had bigger tricks than simple sleight of hand.

Warren remained quiet through Masters' theatrics. "See now, a man of your word you are not." He sighed softly and stood up from his seat when Jean calls him out to come up onto the stage. "When you came in, when you were searched for weapons, they explained to you the rules. Among them no violence, no destruction. Please see to the rest of your meal and then see yourself out. Warren stood up straight and buttoned his suit jacket and stepped away from the table.

Leaving the booth behind, the Angel crossed the floor of his night club, a forced smile across his face as he approached the stage to participate in Jean's act. He'd watched her perform several times before. From up in his office, the wall of windows to the right of his desk allowed him to view the entire club floor. He inspected the offered knives, touching each one in turn, testing the third ones weight in his hands. "So you want me to throw one of these AT you?"

Even through Warren's words with Taskmaster, Jean kept a 'smile on her dial'... just to keep things ticking along with the crowd.  While her knife throwing trick was relatively new, most of the time the patrons didn't have to leave their seats to participate.  However a good magician learned to adapt and Jean could easily accommodate Warren taking the stage with her.  The important part of the trick was establishing a mental hold on his chosen knife...

"That's correct Mr Worthington, but perhaps you could take three steps back and four steps to the left.  Can everyone see us well enough?  Great, alright then... LOOSE!"

Jean held the tray out in front of her... and even spun it for flair, just before Warren's throw.  She still gave a shriek when the knife thunked into the tray, playing things up for the audience... and showing that the tray did indeed have an inch or two of blade through it's back.  Then Jean turned the tray around so the audience could witness it's target area.

"Lets see how he did, folks...  Wow, a perfect bullseye!  Have you done this sort of thing before, sir?  The next time I ask for a raise, I'll be more careful!"

With or without her teleknetic help, Warren would have scored a bullseye... that part of the trick was fixed.  Sometimes Jean chose a different area, depending upon the quality of her volunteer.  Jean encouraged a big round of applause regardless, giving Warren a moment to wave, smile, bow, or whatever else he had in mind.  Carefully removing the knife, she then placed the tray back on the painting stand and knelt beside it, her head resting adjacent to the bullseye.  She also ditched the top hat and swept her red locks out of the bullseye's path.  Finally Jean reached out with both arms and 'hugged' the stand, slipping on a pair of handcuffs so that she couldn't pull away.  Whatever knife Warren picked for his next throw, Jean took a telekinetic hold on that one too.

"On my call, throw your next knife at the Bullseye, Mr Worthington... and don't miss.  People expect a full show, hehe.  Loose!"

"Taunting a serial killer is remarkably brave" Monet said quietly "I hope that doesn't have repercussions. Makes you wonder if that show was an audition" she sighed

Like the rest of the crowd she cheered when Warren hit the bullseye. "That answers that question I think" she commented to Marc before taking another sip

"Miss Grey enjoys tests, I'd say," Steven replied, remembering her game with letters and words. "But I believe the term you were looking for was 'contract' killer. Serial killers do it for themselves. Contract killers do it for whoever pays them. Taskmaster's reputation suggests he doesn't even get up in the morning unless there's a paycheck for it."

Man-about-town Steven Grant probably shouldn't let on that he knows anything about Taskmaster, but there was really little point in pretending. The guy walked around supper clubs with a skull mask on. Everybody knew who he was.

"Oh, correction: alleged contract killer."

"We're both right." a little smile "Often the case. A serial killer is defined as the unlawful homicide of at least two people carried out by the same person in separate events occurring at different times." Monet explained "It's not a legal definition because there's no such crime really. But the law enforcement professionals tend to go by that definition. Some contract killers are also serial killers and he definitely was. I prefer the term serial killer because it emphasises just how sick they are"

She gave a little shudder, not even a mock shudder. She really didn't like this. "Well the police just wait for a man like that to make a single mistake and they get him. Let's hope that happens soon. I hope Mr Worthington has a way of dealing with him. This place for me is the acceptable face of 'speakeasies'. I wouldn't like to see a change of ownership"

In reply to Warren Worthington III (msg # 83):

Taskmaster's expression couldn't be read, given the hood and mask. But when the man sat back, he almost looked like a confused dog, tilting his head this way and that. Warren had impugn his honor, but it hadn't seemed the usual threats and insults of an uncouth man. He had apparently offended him, and from his words, broken house rules. As far as he knew, he had done know violence, and caused no destruction. He slid op the right side of his privacy partition to look around the club to see if he had accidentally killed someone. With as reflexes as fast as his, he might have taken out a perceived threat without conscious thought, but he saw no signs of it. No screaming, no blood, no angry or frightened shouts.

Just a crowd watching a show.

Maybe Warren was offended he had refused his showgirl, but in Taskmaster's mind, their meeting was not finished yet, and it would have been rude to cut it off prematurely. He had given the girl some reaction, so as not to be fully awkward when the audience member refuses the host. Was that it? Had he feared his display could have hurt the girl? The man clearly knew much less about him and his skill than he had thought.

Or perhaps it was misplaced anger at the messenger for bringing news of the...future unwanted merger. Well, if that was the case, perhaps in his last moments, the hunchback would learn not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Appetite suddenly gone, Taskmaster dropped two hundred dollars for the steak, drink, and tip for the waitress. He placed a business card in the ashtray, and hoped the man would have sense enough to call him before other interested parties did. He liked this club and it's atmosphere. It was nice having an independent operator out there with a love for jazz.




Stepping out from behind the privacy partition, he approached the bar once more, and asked for a telephone and phone book from the bartender.

Warren was more than happy to participate with Jean in her performance on the stage. He wasn't a performer himself, but as a club owner he had to play the roll of entertainer. With no further business for the rest of the evening beyond ensuring that Ms St. Croix made it home safely, he will participate in her act for as long as she requested.

This time, Jean had a teleknetic hand on the throwing knife (that only a professional holding it 'might' notice).  She guided the knife to its bullseye... while flinching in mock fear.  Truthfully, Jean was more worried about Taskmaster doing something... but he paid up without incident.

"Wow, am I lucky or what!  Could somebody come up and unlock me?  No, nevermind ... I think I have it."

The restraints holding Jean to the painting stand clicked and seemed to just fall off, suggesting a pair of trick handcuffs.  Jean flexed her gloved hands and then picked up a sheet of red slik,  Turning it over to show the audience that nothing was hidden (fun fact, something certainly was), Jean then took out a handkerchief with a bullseye design and tucked it into her shirt... with the target handing over her torso.  With a look of concentration, she announced the last part of the trick.

"For this last throw, I shall attempt to survive with the aid of this flimsy fabric.  Mr Worthington, I want you picture me somewhere scenic... a garden perhaps.  Then make your throw on my mark please.  Everybody, please count down from FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, loose!"

Flinging the silk into the path of the lethal projectile, Jean held a taunt pose.  Even with a ripping sound, she stayed on her feet... before twisting away with her hands clenching her tummy.  Letting the audience sweat for a few seconds, Jean staggered back to her place and revealed a pair of red roses portruding from her shirt.  The torn silken sheet fluttered behind her and the dagger was nowhere to be seen.

"Tada!  And thank you for the roses, Boss... they really are quite sweet."

Meanwhile the concealed throwing knife 'slipped' under Jean's cart and up into a hidden compartment... it's sound muffled by the silken sheet that had enfolded it.

The rest of Jean's show was a bit comedic (making things disappear with her 'Prohibition hat'), dazzling (a levitation act that suggested hidden wires but was still impressive), and other less dangerous tricks than her previous knife throwing act.

"Well that was nice" Monet said to Marc approvingly as she clapped. She'd kept an eye on Ghalib during the performance by means of reflective surfaces rather than directly. That guy scared her. It was only that looming presence that had been fly in her ointment. Marc was nice company and Jean's show was everything that you could hope for "I particularly liked the levitating man. I've only heard of that trick before. I'm told it was invented by a Mr Harry Kellar" it didn't hurt to stress it was 'only a trick'. "Marvelous"

If she hadn't already arranged for a 'lift home' to bolster her cover she'd go outside now, lurk and try and follow Ghalib. But she had. Still this was the much safer option

"Yes... the Levitating Princess Karnak or something like that," Steven agreed. It really was a good trick. Jean was talented.

"You seem to have your eye on the man in the iron mask," he commented, almost casually. "Professional matter?"

Once his role on the stage was completed, Warren stepped away and walked towards the back of the club. He was exhausted, but he still had one thing to confirm before he could call it an evening. Speaking with one of his subordinates, he made sure that the ride for Ms St Croix was indeed ready for her when she was decided that her evening was done. His eyes glanced back over the crowd that was thinning out as t he night was coming to a close. Satisfied that his crew could take care of anything, he returned back upstairs without any further conversation.

"That's ... remarkably ... perceptive of you Steve" Monet was actually surprised "I haven't looked at him once directly. I am impressed. You are right that I am worried about him. He is a very dangerous man. Whether more or less than our friend with the playing card I couldn't say"

"Well I am going to take Mr Worthington's offer of a lift home now. Thank you for your company. You have my card if you want to get in touch with me again, although I'm not sure an Egyptologist has a lot of need for a Private Investigator"

"You might be surprised," Steven said with a smile. "Things go missing all the time.

"But anyway, have a pleasant rest of your evening. It has been a most enjoyable time getting to know you, and I hope we may meet again someday."