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[Alice the Chopper]

March 6th, 2012.
Shit-tier Johannesburg Carnival.
Approximately 7:00pm.

Current Equip:
"Magical" Fire
Unjoyfulbuzzer
Huckepack
Naseweis

Johannesburg...or as the Ritualist liked to affectionately call it, "Johannesburger", due to it's punny nature and hilarious, to her, context. It was good to be back, regardless of name, as she didn't really get the 'Jovi' nickname despite of having used it before. Washington DC just wasn't the same as this place, it just seemed to be more lawless, more free in nature, and generally, the climate was a ton better. It sure was freezing over in the States, something she'd have to keep in mind. Perhaps a visit during June would be better suited, or so she heard from the locals. A helpful one she was, really, but that's a story for another time. It simply wasn't one that she felt like telling you at this time.

Alice's mind was clouded, she heard familiar and comforting sounds such as repetitive music of calliope origin and honking, annoying sounds really, but what puts one at ease differs from person to person. Perhaps the chaotic and unnaturally erratic mood of everything thrilled her. Or perhaps, just maybe, her nerves were put at ease due to the fact that she just took two hits of acid. It was hard to think about murder when everything you say was rainbows and unicorns with leprechauns upon them riding said unicorns upon said rainbows into a sea of miracles. Or something like that. Her pupils were pretty dilated, and her movements, well, they were a little drugged but still as peppy as ever. Her hair swayed from side to side, long, but yet somehow well kept and straight.

Ah yes, today's appearance. It was a relatively laid back day, as she had spent quite some time dressing up everyday in America, and today was really one of her first days back to the homeland. Alice wore simply a black tank top, revealing her shoulders, and what appeared to be a small tattoo (in reality a carving) of the roman numeral III. Her pants were of more intricate design, jet black demin, save for one leg, which had many dark purple polka dots scattered across it, giving them a subtle harlequin feel. They ended with a mismatched pair of boots, one being black on the polka dotted side, and the other being a deep purple against the solid leg. She didn't seem to want to keep a great deal of order in her style of dress, as a matter of fact, it almost seemed as if she went out of her way to present herself in a asymmetrical manner. Alice had her face painted in traditional style, a whiteface with black lips and eyes, though the makeup was applied hours ago and had faded to severe degree. Now, one could really only see mild outlines of the black portion of the clown-get-up.

Currently, the hallucinogens were beginning to hit another peek, which caused the eccentric woman to actually sit down, and quite immediately. The world was appearing quite surreal, and she thought just how wonderful this all felt, this kind of feeling was the kind she lived for. Some people got it through some tedious chore like, I don't know, knitting or some shit, but others just had higher standards. After all, being possessed by a Goddess was a rare treat. She didn't like to think about her higher blood at moments of inebriation, or tried not to at least. Those usually triggered something, another personality, one that wasn't exactly the life of the party. The harlequin bit into a yellow delicious apple, and yet another time, only to toss it randomly into the crowd on the second bite. She was sure it hit somebody, but also entirely not sure. Existence was paradoxical. She was also almost certain she heard an obscenity from the crowd.

[Gwendolyn Magnusdotter]

Ok. Seriously now... how that FUCK had she gotten to Johannesburg? Like, did she fly? Or did Legion just set her out here after a little trip in Inferis? Cause... fucking hell, how the flying fuck should she get away from this place again? Either way it was time to get to doing stuff. Wait... what? What the hell was it she wanted to do here? Did she actually...

As she reached into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a ticked. Obviously she had booked a flight to Johannesburg for some unknown reason. Well she´d find out eventually, probably one of the demons had her made forget what she wanted here. Siblings? No she was from Sweden... maybe someone elses siblings, that had to die! Oh fuck no wait, she´d be dressed in white then. Or... not? Shit for how looooong?! Messing around with the ticket, she tried to find the proper date, to determine when it´d fly back to the US again.

Three days... well that wasn´t half as bad as she had thought! Three days in Johannesburg, doing... stuff. Just what exactly? Like she didn´t really hav- APPLE TO THE FUCKING FACE!

The fruit bounced off her forehead, as she had been looking at the tickets, burried in deep thought. Now however her forehead hurt a bit, while her head in total, hurnt like a motherfucker, due to the demons having broken out in chaotic ramblings again. Undefinable screams and roars, kept ringing through her head, as loud as if the people in question were standing right next to her. Roaring due to the unpleasanty, Gwendolyn picked up the apple angrily, while yelling to herself:"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" As usuall the screaming demons, went back to their usuall whispers... some even shut up entirely, granting her a small relieve from the almost physical head-trauma.

The REAL physical trauma was that coming from this FUCKING apple. Like... fucking bullshit! Fuck that apple! Not literally... but metaphorically as FUCK! What little piece of shit threw good food at her? She´d have whoever threw that, eat the damn fruit with their own asshole, so they could spit it out with their worthless, puny mouth the way they deserved it. SHITSTAINED!

Suddenly, Gwen held still. Something about this apple wasn´t quite right. Smelling it more closely she noticed something familiar about it´s smell. Was that a demonic taint? She couldn´t be sure... it was only salvia. Blood would have given a far better impression of who or what had bitten into that thing yet... ah... yes... There was definitely someone demonic in the proximity. Just who the fuck was it?! Following the scent of the apple... or much rather the salvia on it, she followed an almost straight line, towards an individual that... yeah. What the fuck was that?

It looked fairly human, but the girl definitely had a demonic smelling part to her. It was definitely her salvia though... so she´d get an expanded asshole within the hour, due to imminent fruit penetration. But first:"Hey... you smell nice!" It was true... she did smell a lot better than most of these sweaty, damn normal people. Weak little things... almost cute how pitiful they were. But hey... wasn´t their fault. EXCEPT IT WAS! Cause fucking hell, staying that weak was just... so pathetic. Right? SURE! SHUT UP! NO! YES! FUCK OFF!

THe little discussion she had held with a demon, that tended to fake her own voice, made her stare blankly at the weird looking clown in front of her. However as soon as she cut out of it, Gwendolyn voice changed a bit, throwing up the apple a bit, before catching it in her hand again, supporting her left hip with her free hand, while grinning in an... far too eager... manner:"Hey... you threw that! Now do me a favor. Turn around... and bend over. I have a surprise for you! It´s FUCKING HILARIOUS!" Her voice didn´t sound exactly non-threatening, but at least she wasn´t screaming, that she´d shove an apple up another persons asshole.

It was progrees. At least to her...

[Necris]

The ringing in his ears wouldn't subside. His shaky hands snaked into his right pocket, and pulled out a small baggie, tied tightly to make it nice and airtight. He opened it up with skilled fingers, and pulled out a tiny spoon from his left pocket, a little handy tool that he dubbed the Snuffer. Taking a small dab from the inside of the baggie, he quickly shoved it up his nose, and took a strong sniff. Rinse and repeat for the other nostril. His left eye twitched very slightly, and his nostrils flared as the sudden rush hit his head. He started blinking rapidly, grinding his teeth, and quickly tied the baggie back, but not before taking a light dab in his pinkie, and began rubbing the gums over the upper-front teeth, creating a pleasant numbing sensation as his mind raced.

"You really gotta quit that shit, you'll die before you turn thirty." The voice inside his head rang out, a condescending tone easily noted by the Russian as he deposited his bag back into his pocket, and he reached into his back pocket to pull out a nicely-browned nugget, crisp and icky in smell. With a lick of his lips, he popped it into his mouth, and chewed it nice and slowly, the numbness in his mouth not letting him taste it, so instead he made sure not to bite the shit outta his cheeks as he minced the shroom into tiny pieces and swallowing it. "Oh, you can relax your ass. I don't plan on living for too long. Plus, the coke don't do shit to your head... the shrooms though..." A sick grin crept along the Russian's face, and the voice inside his head shut itself up, obviously worried about what may happen in the next twenty-or-so minutes.

The rush in his head stiffened up his body, and his movements became mechanic, his legs taking him towards the entrance to the carnival. His movements became jumpy, but his steps were erratic, relishing in the rush of the drugs that had coursed through his system. Leon Necris, upcoming terrorist extraordinaire, had heard news of cultists in this Godforsaken city, in fucking South Africa. Ignoring the fact that most citizens here were Caucasian - something that had caught the coked-up Russkie completely by surprise - he had settled in nicely in his hotel room earlier. He wore combat boots, long, camouflage cargo-pants, a tight, black, sleeveless t-shirt that hugged his features, a golden chain around his neck connected to an upside-down cross, and slick shades to protect against the glare of the sun in this backwards city. And a spritz of some expensive cologne.

"But really though, we're in Africa, why is everyone white?" He sighed to himself, over-thinking things as he usually found himself doing. He surveyed the carnies and the locals, each one looking oddly Caucasian and non-African. He scratched at his arms, paranoid that he wasn't in Africa, and may have accidentally taken an oddly-long plane ride to Germany. "And fucking British accents? Where the fuck am I?!" He began breathing a bit deeply, his head trying to organize his racing thoughts, until suddenly, he realized what was really going on. The shrooms. Stopping in the middle of the road, he looked straight ahead of him, and saw a harlequin-looking babe being asked to bend over for some deranged psychobitch and her apple.

"Holy shit, I think I'm tripping balls." The voice inside Leon's head spoke out, bringing a smile to the Cultist's face. While mood-changing drugs didn't affect his demon-brother, hallucinogens definitely do the trick. "Why the fuck is everyone white? Aren't we in Africa?" Leon snapped up, and snapped back, "Exactly!" But, realizing he had just yelled that out in the middle of a crowd of carnies, eyes dilated and breathing hard. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and moved on forward, toward the psychedelic duo and their apple of terror. I mean, if you're planning on killing a few carnies, may as well get to know them beforehand. He stopped in front of them, sniffing the air once, twice, and hiccuping suddenly. About after fifteen seconds of just sniffing, hiccuping, and blinking at the two, he uttered the first thing on his head.

"Okay, but really though, why is everyone in Africa white?"

[Mr. Black]

The Cape of Africa, capitol of the psudo-modern African experience. It was great to be back in the free-way of law. It was a marvelous place. Not just the Cape, no the whole thing. Africa was a spy's dream, hell it was anyone who needed something done or needed to get something's dream. There really was no where else in the world like the Good ole perma-power-vacuum. Black just loved it here! Go grab lunch and four AK-74s in the same gods damned block. Well, that wasn't exactly true here in South Africa, but hey, it would tide him over until he could get back to the Horn. Man, there really was no place like the Horn. Somalia was just a fucking amusement park from Hell. No government, no police, no rules, just you and how far your fucking gun hand could take you, fucking Wild West. Hell, team up with some pirates or a coke slingin' warlord and you got a career. Didn't matter that all those poor warlords were short-sighted as fuck. They could unite that country and make something magical. A land with nearly limitless natural resources and more guns than people. Not to mention control of one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. They could be rolling in money and power in little more than a decade. Too bad they were just pawns and tools for larger governments. They would stay in chaos forever and those with power would make sure they did. Oh well, no time to worry about that though. No, now it was time for a mission, always mission time. Pleasure might come with the experience but it was about to be business'o'clock.

He flew to this city and walked to this carnival, picking up a cup of coffee and a sandwich on the way; for one reason: to meet a crazy fucking clown. His main assignment hinged on their meeting. He needed an in when it came to a particular group of mind wrecked, demon possessed, fuck-nuts. Those were the people he was going to mingle with. He supposed someone with access to his file would think that would be a perfect place for him. Maybe they were right. Black didn't think about it too much. No need to waste effort contemplating orders that you can't change. Plus, he'd be a serious boon for these wackos. I mean, he knew guys who sold guns, lots of guns, explosives, fucking helicopters. It was going to be a blast.

After nine or ten rounds of carnival games, all of which Black did only mediocre at, he finally stumbled across the person he was looking for. She wasn't hiding, nor was he expecting her to. This was a place where anyone could get lost, even if you looked like a clown. Here no one wanted to know anything about you. They just wanted to get your money or make sure you didn't get their's. More so, this place was home to Ms. Alice, she had no reason to hide. However, Black was slightly on edge when he found his target, mainly, because there was another person there. Another girl, holding an apple and producing a monstrously threatening aura. From her voice to her stance, everything about this girl screamed antagonistic. That, was a problem. Assets often were temperamental and needed to be managed carefully. If this bitch here was about to care off his damned clown before he even had a chance to make his introduction he'd be furious, fucking take-a-bitch-back-to-my-hotel-room-and-cut-her-teeth-out furious. His hand tightened into a fist and crushed the remainder of his Styrofoam cup into splinters. Now there were two people. One threatening and the other asking about census data. That's it, time to make the play before it was too late.

Black strode up to the trio, confident and assured of himself. Of all of his cover IDs this one was perhaps this simplest. It required very little acting and even less costume. He was wearing a simple navy blue button up shirt with the top two buttons down, not tucked in and a pair of nicely worn black jeans. His shoes were a dusty old pair of wing tips and he had a pair of dark shades covering his eyes A gigantic plush crocodile clutched under his arm and a cigarette pinched in his right rand. He stepped into vocal range and addressed the last question asked, "Because you are in a primarily white district. Not all of Africa is like the shit you see on TV." he swiftly popped the cig in his lips and with a flourish produced a silver and engraved zippo lighter from his sleeve. With a flick and a spark his coffin nail was lit. His hissed smoke out through his teeth as he raised his left hand, clasping the massive plush croc by it's spine. He pointed the snout of his prize at the apple girl and next addressed the threatening one, "As for you, leave this poor lady alone." he quickly pointed the croc's face at the sitting Alice but did not take his sunglasses hidden blue eyes off the apple woman, "Can't you see she's tripping mad balls?" he let another cloud of smoke escape from his clenched teeth before he curled the crocodile under his arm again. "Give'er a break yeah?" his attention turned back to the man in the muscle shirt, "And man, you look like you need some fuckin' water. Eyes are about to pop out."

[Alice the Chopper]

"Hey... you smell nice!" Some voice was speaking, presumably the same voice heard earlier yelling an obscenity...or that she was certain that she heard. This person...this person with the dark blue hair, she could not even exist, but yet she held an aura of existence. As if a hundred souls were crying out, yelling that they were real, and they had come, a Harbinger. Yes, the aura was familiar, and she did wonder if this was the many beasts, the ruler of Hell, well, one of them anyway. The whole hierarchy concept only really registered to her on a certain degree, and that was that her blood was worth more than most, being of the elite. Alice, or rather the demon inside of her Eris, was never fond of the demonic government in the first place, only serving for the benefits. It was a complex set of rules and there was simply nothing of the sort that didn't disgust her, and if anything, she should be at the top. These thoughts dare not escape her in loud. "Hey... you threw that! Now do me a favor. Turn around... and bend over. I have a surprise for you! It´s FUCKING HILARIOUS!"

Now hold up a minute.

Who the fuck was this banana-person to tell Alice the Chopper what was funny and what was not? Now that's just crossing the line, even if the mind happened to be completely inebriated with hard drugs. Oh, how slitting her throat at that very moment would've been fun, but this was public, and even a serial killer has to keep things a little civil. So she did the best she could do of that, and sickeningly licked the palm of her hand, which had yet another stamp of the vile hallucinogen concealed on it. A bit of black make up got on her hand. The Ritualist also didn't care too much about that silly willy. To her feet she took, and from what seemed like an eternity, words came from her mouth in a mocking tone, "I'm zuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure." A short and distorted chuckle came from her mouth as soon as she finished the last consonant, ending shortly so she could begin again, "At leazt take me to dinner firzt! Or zhake my hand!" Her accented voice left her lips as if it didn't want to be there, and she extended her right palm, the one that didn't have the remains of acid and clown make up on it. A simple gesture, though a tradition most used in English speaking countries, but South Africa happened to be one of those countries.

To Alice, her arm was less than straight, as it seemed to be waving in the wind. That was likely just the lsd, though, as there's no way shit could go down like that. Colors were beginning to make less and less sense somehow, and they seemed to talk, and the voices became visible after that, as the sounds became colors and the colors became sounds. She was a particularly funny sound, or at least she thought, much like an ice cream truck. Currently, there was a monstrous creature of sandworm origin destroying the city, or so the illusion told her. She was certain that was an illusion too. The Ritualist paid these obstructions no mind and attempted to continue on as normally as possible. As if that were a thing. Anyway, if this creature before had some foresight, she would notice a small metal object on the clown's hand, predictable, in a sense of the word. "Yez! let'z ztart there, actually." Referring to the handshake, she only further extended her hand. Maybe contact was about to be made but then...

"Okay, but really though, why is everyone in Africa white?" With such a sudden statement from a deep and foreign voice, the harlequin pulled back her hand, taking back the handshake offer like some sort of Indian salesman. The Chopper's dull pink eyes looked over this newcomer, strong, obviously male as stated before, and he was obviously on something pretty strong. That much could be told. Also, his accent seemed to be of Slavic origin, but she wasn't exactly sure from what area, not being too well versed in communicating with the Reds. The clown just looked at him. Then she looked back at the other girl, who apparently had something ironically hilarious to do with that apple. Yeah, that might be fun on a Friday night in the bedroom, but not right here in front of everyone. Girl, learn to be subtle, sheesh. Coming from the one dressed like a circus freak. The Ritualist bent down to grab a bottle with some sort of vile, disgusting, horrible fluid in it. A bottle of Faygo Moon Mist, that was. The cap opened with a fizz, and she seemed to be totally ignoring the two in favor of the drink at this point in time. Oh, and the soda totally had a little extra kick, just a pinch of one hundred proof vodka did the trick. A refreshing "ah" left the woman's mouth as she continued to speak once more, this time, an obvious indication of her either heavy drugged or insane nature (when in reality it was a mixture of the two). "Zo, you guyz want a hit of thiz wicked elixe-" Cut off, a new voice entered the congregation of madness. "Because you are in a primarily white district. Not all of Africa is like the shit you see on TV." Another male voice, this one however more refined. Her pale eyes turned to this gentleman, who was dressed in a semi formal fashion and puffed upon a cancer stick, something that eluded her at the moment. Alice thought that she must be in her innocent personality, or at least that's what it called itself or liked to be called, it was all a confusing ordeal held together by murder and hard drugs. Regardless, it was the only persona that didn't smoke. Was that a gator plushie?

"As for you, leave this poor lady alone." Yeah, that was totally a gator plushie. It was green. And big. And fluffy. Something inside of the killer couldn't contain itself. It was jumping out of her mind and skin. "Can't you see she's tripping mad balls?" Dude, was that alligator talking? And it's voice...it's voice...it was so squeaky. Barely containing. Barely containing. "Give'er a break yeah?" Alice would then carelessly attempt to snatch the gator plushie, which was of course just talking to her. She couldn't hold it in any longer, and if she successfully grabbed it, she would squeal like a little girl who just got a new doll. "You're zoooooooooo cute!" She would hug it with violent effect, pushing it's soft skin as tight against hers as she possibly could, while still juggling the bottle of circus juice in her hand, of course. Couldn't let that go. She just now noticed the man in full. Oh. He must of been the one talking again. Funny how drugs worked, actually, no. It wasn't all that funny. Well okay, it was hilarious how drugs worked. "Anyway who are you people?" Alice would suddenly turn to the group of strangers that had gathered around her. Oh the demon inside of her was dying to speak, but she refrained, enjoying the ride for the time being. "The peanut gallery? Are you with the carnival? Carniez? Hahahaha! Look at you people, I could find you all a great zpot, I bet!" The Ritualist looked each of them up and down, and even though the drugs were impairing what she saw, she saw what was there during this, concentration manifested. Oh yes, places could indeed be found. A cocaine strongman! The thought made her laugh, quite loudly, at that. This should be interesting.

[Gwendolyn Magnusdotter]

Well that happened. Girl... looking at her. Yes it was. DEFINITELY! Ok it was looking at her, she was even talking to her. It spoke with a voice so sweet, she could choke an angle with it. Yes... choking was good. In a creepy, nonchalant way she never wanted to experience from the recieving side. But hey... she was good at dishing out. Usually. So well... weird clown-girl spoke but didn´t bend. That wasn´t good. Because that wasn´t what she had asked her to do. Now... she had been like... REALLY friendly! And the bitch didn´t wanna bend over?! A date? Like... A FUCKING DATE?! What for? Seriously, bitch please, get a donat!

"Bitch please... get a donut!" Now the other girl extended her hand. As if she were about to shake it! With hers! Well... not the hand... but maybe the arm! Yes taking somebodies arm for granted, was legit. Seemed legit at least. Yes, sure... take the arm, run away with it and call her "DISARMED" that was good. "Oooold~!" The voices of her demons sounded in consence, as they insulted Gwens idea. Her head however replied with a short:"SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" Making them... well do that. Now focusing on Alice once more, Gwendolyn extended her hand to grab the other girls forearm in a soldier-handshake... when another voice disturbed the harmonic disaster of her mind. "Was that one of you guys?" Her inner voice asked, yet she could feel all the demons shaking their imaginary heads inside hers.

Turning her head to the new person with a slightly enerved look on her face, Gwendolyn observed the new arrival. Big, muscular and... looked like one of the half-dead people she found in(side) allies/alleys occasionally. Made nice carpets for a while... well at least in the right... form. Bones were just in the way. Also... usually they started smelling after a few days. Who the HELL made her use people as carpets? That so must have been one of her demons... like... shit that´s just so retarded. Seriously PEOPLE! Not people, people... but demons, people. Stop doing such STUPID shit! The cops could find them... eventually... once the smell started to get too bad. Or she didn´t eat them in time... Nuff said, carpets made horrible people. And vice versa.

Ok now newboy said something about white people in africa! Good for him! However, before Gwendolyn could proceed to answer his snorty, swinge-raped visage, another something approached them. Wonderful. "She threw an apple in my face!" Her reply to the man with the crocodile... well his first sentence, telling HER to leave the girl alone that threw an apple into her face. Into HER beautiful FACE! Like... anywhere else, but the face! Well no... actually apple meeting any part of her body in an unpleasant, undesired way was BAD! Or rather bad for whoever threw it, because he´d end in a fish-glass. Usually. Toilets usually did the trick though...

As for the dudes second sentence:"She threw a FUCKING APPLE into my FACE!" Clenching her (other) fist angrily, Gwendolyn stared at that fucker with his stupid cigar and the fucked up looking hat, with his silly, fucking, borderline-retarded sweet-chick fuck up, suit! Oh geez, this dude would HAVE to be a nutjob! Like... seriously... tha fuck man?! "A break? I can give her a break alright. I´ll give you one too if you want... just name a bone. Or a testicle. You just have one? Sucks to be you." With the last sentence, her voice had become very friendly, as she spoke with a cheerful tone and even smiled at that guy. However she was slightly set on the drugged, weird dude on drugs too. Like... hey maybe he wanted to jump her or something. One never knew...

Now as Alice asked who they all were, Gwendolyns demons had calmed down mostly... including herself, as she simply replied:"My name´s Eugenia Taylor. But you... are? Like... I can smell what kinda person you are. From afar... but what´s your name? You two can just shut up I don´t even wanna know." Waving the hand with the apple into the other two peoples direction, her tone got more aggressive for a second, before she added far more friendly:"Although, I´m sure you are nice people and I could appreciate your company if I´d just get the time to know you better!" These words were accompanied by a faint, honest smile, before Gwendolyn turned to Alice again, showing her the apple. "Now... pretty please... can I? Like... just like... half a metre ok? Pleaaaase~~!" She´d almost moan the please into Alice´ear bending over to get her mouth closer to the other girl.

"Also no... I don´t think I work in a carnival. I´m sure I´d be good at it though." Shrugging slightly, she´d straighten up again, falling into a thinking pose as she imagined herself, flying around like... between ropes and... stuff. Ok now that didn´t fit too well. Maybe as a STRONG woman. Nah... too boring, like seriously what should she lift? A truck filled with elefants? VERY suspicious. Or auspicious... or auditious.~ Depending where and how she´d drop it.~ Heh... these peps would sure look surprised if a container full with inbred elefants, would rape them in the... bodies... all over. Messy... bloody... squishy perhaps.~ Yeah... squishy too. But especially bloody! Like really bloody. Hospital-on a holiday-bloody. Yeah... that~~.

[Mr. Black]

Well this was about exactly as he expected this meeting to go. Absolutely insane. Damn, he really should pick his assignments better. Awe, fuck it. This would be loads of fun. He would likely get to shoot some people, torture some others, hell maybe even get some fun on the side. Black's internal monologue laughed rather loudly but that really didn't matter. His brain could laugh all it wanted at this whole freak show. How ever loud his brain laughed his real world self never gave a hint. He still had a cool and calm smile on his face now was no longer carrying that damned croc. Just as he had hoped and expected the clown girl took to the gater like a... Well, a whacked out clown to a giant lizard plushie. He let Alice snatch it and cuddle the big damn thing like she was five. She certainly was not five though, nope, not with a body like that and eye that dilated. His meeting with Alice was actually going just as planned, which was a fucking surprise from Hell. He'd half expected to get shived or something, well, the day was still young. Really the only hitch was the fact that some insane bitch was threatening the well being of his testicle and or limbs. More over, how did she know he only had one and why did it matter to her? Why was it bad for him? I mean having two just seemed to get in the way, it certainly was nice having one ball made of steel, made ball shots a little less painful. His memory was momentarily flooded with the dreadful day when he had fallen from that two story building and racked himself on a parking meter. That had been the day that lefty had died. Black lowered his slightly in lefty's memory as the strange woman bent over to whisper a strange plea in Alice's ear. Yep, totally bonkers. Black's eyes shifted their glance to the bent over woman's hind quarters. She might have been a nut case but she did have a pretty darn nice caboose. He wrote her down in the 'would bang just to see what it looked like bouncing on my dick' section and moved on to the important part of this ball of crazy, his meeting of Alice. She didn't know him but she was about to.

Black made the judgement call to completely ignore the mad woman's threat to his one lonely scrotum Indian and move on to speaking to Alice. After all, she had asked the magic question. 'were zey carniez?' indeed he was, oh yes. Black knelt down and pulled his glasses from his face with a flourish, revealing his blue eyes. "Oh, you must be the carnival fortune teller." he chuckled as he tucked the glasses into his shirt pocket and rolled up his sleeves. "You see, I'm actually looking for a new place of employment. My talents are of an..." he paused and snapped his fingers and seemed to summon up a business card from the air itself. Simple slight of hand but it was always impressive. Black would have to thank Mr. Blaine for teaching him so many marvelous magic tricks. He never knew they would come in so handy for a mission. He tipped the business card toward Alice, "....Illusionary sort." he pulled his mouth into a toothy grin as looked on at the strange girl before him. "My name is Ater Furvus, wandering magician extraordinaire." He stood back up and with a flourish to pull the attention away from his hand he bowed and produced face sized lollipop from what appeared to be nowhere at all. He held the giant sucker out to Alice, the same smile still gracing his face."You look like you could use some rainbow colored sugar to go with that giant croc, Mz. Alice." he sent her a wink and then stood up. Now to let this all sink in. If all went well he'd be in. If all went bad he'd have to call a cleaners to wash all the blood out of his clothes.

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