Assembling the League
Rory Regan felt uncomfortable riding in the back of a cab in full costume. It seemed wholly undignified, especially since his driver kept looking in her rearview mirror and asking questions. He'd kept his answers brief but polite, doing his best to maintain some semblance of mystery.
Finally the cab pulled up in front of the reconstructed hanger.
"Hey, whoa!" said the cabbie, her eyes wide. "What's going on here?"
"No idea, bye!" replied Ragman quickly. He'd brought cash along in a money clip hidden within his costume; eyballing the total he took out enough to cover plus a more generous tip than he'd intended, as he didn't want to worry about change. "Don't wait. Go." Walking quickly but, he hoped, casually, he approached the building.
"Welcome, Master Rory," said the old man with a small bow. "Master Bruce is waiting for you inside."
"Master...who? Who's this Rory you speak of? I'm the Ragman!"
"Very good, sir. If you will...?" The man motioned to the doors.
Flummoxed, Ragman entered, walked down a hallway, and found himself inside a large meeting room, where several others had already gathered, including two very fit women. As all eyes turned towards him, Rory said, "Thank you for inviting me. I'm Ragman." Not knowing if he should stand or sit, Rory settled for leaning against the back on one of the chairs.