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Haute Cuisine (IC)


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Marceau's vision seemed to swim before him for a moment. Shaking his head managed to clear it somewhat, but a deep feeling of sickness within told him that the pleasant time in the restaurant had come to an end. Staggering to his feet, a feeling of weakness going through him like a wave of sludge, he looked with horror about him at the collapsing diners, a realization going through his head like lightening that the only place to find an answer to why some brain-genius had put poison(isit poison, or something else?, he wondered briefly) in the drinks would be the kitchen. He set off purposefully for it, trying his best not to bump into anyone. Walking through the door with his politest expression, he walked up to the first cook he saw and asked in French "<Pardon me, monsieur chef, but what do you put into coffee here to make the steam blue? Quite remarkable effect, I would earnestly like to know hot it is done.>" He finished with his most winning smile.

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Seeing the stink-eye and the departure of the dishwasher, Marceau whispered fiercely to the cook "<Monsieur chef, I must confess to the untruth of my words. Please forgive me, but I wished to see who, if anyone here, had tampered with the drinks being served. I belive it to have been your dishwasher, though of course I do not know, and I shall go now and catch him, and if you will be so kind as to call 911, I think a tragedy may be averted!>".While speaking, he had been moving quietly to the bins the washer approached, and when he had gotten close enough, tapped the man on the shoulder and asked politely(though loudly) "<Your pardon, sir, but may I ask that you come with me? There has been a problem in the dinng room that requires extra hands>"

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Rene came into the Kitchen, holding his nearly finished Creme Brule, and walking rather slowly.

"What's going on?" he muttered in a faux-irritated voice. "Can't an old man enjoy a little fine wine and food in peace?" he complained, before spying Marceau.

"Something up?" he asked his eating companion.

The dishwasher ignored Marceau and reached into the bin, before spinning around and throwing off his coat.

The Silencer!

If his wrathful face wasn't enough to identify him (and it looked disguised), the weapon he had pulled from the bin certainly was. His signature weapon, the Sonic Gun, all sleek shiny steel and high tech precision instrumentation!

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GM

The Silencer took one look at Marceau and gave him a cold stare, and a gladatorial thumbs down sign with his left hand.

He was quick as a flash with his right, however, his sonic gun shifting to draw a bead on the King of Suits and firing a screeching vibration that rumbled right past Marceau by a hairs breadth, leaving a slight tingling sensation as it whipped past him.

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Wincing from the painful explosion of noise, Marceau jumped to the side, blasting at the rifle in the Silencer's hands. The golden guantlet shot out from an area of space next to his shoulder, knocking the murderous vigilante's grip on his weapon loose, whereupon Marceau, gathering the cosmic force into his being, jumped forward and siezed the rifle, taking it easily from the slackened hands. Retreating quickly, he aimed with utmost care at the unmasked menace-

Oh, merde....

He had forgotten to put on his mask.

He had forgotten to adopt his alternate identity.

If word got out (and it will he thought, if I don't make sure to swear the lot to secrecy or something) he could be easily tracked down by crazy and killed in his sleep, along witht he entire bunch of annoying, harmless unfortunes who shared his roof.

So, to business!

He called up a fist from the ground next to the the Silencer, and had it make a grab for the potential murderer's midsection. "Don't try to escape, or you''ll be wracked with pain from head to foot!" he said coldly. Glancing at the other people in the kitchen he added earnestly "PLEASE don't tell anyone else what I did. Just say I knocked the gun out of his hands and bound him, the details aren't important"

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GM

If the Silencer was shocked at Marceaus incredible strength, he kept silent about it.

However, having lost his weapon, and unwilling to try and wrest it back, he spun round and pelted out of the door as fast as he could. He was an athletic man, and had managed a good heard start before Marceau could manage to draw a bead on him...

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With a growl of irritation, Marceau shot off after the fleeing would-be murderer, holding his arms neatly behind his back to give himself a more aerodynamic profile. The fleeing figure wasn't difficult to follow, but he proved to be a good runner, and Marceau knew that unless he could drive the man into a dead-end it would become a pointless test of endurance. He wondered nervously if he should just duck into a nearby corner where he had stashed his costume, rather than hope the running man didn't suddenly run out into a crowd and telling everyone that HE was the innocent in this case. Marceau gritted his teeth and kept running, pushing that fear as far from his conscious thought as he could. Regrettably, that wasn't far enough for peace of mind.

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GM

The chase was on!

Neither man was slow, or unfit, or stupid. Silencer hurtled down the street, barging pass all he could. One burly grocer in a grubby vest tried to stop him, briefly causing him to stumble, and was punched to the ground in response.

But for every hurdle that the Silencer had, Marceau had another - a lady with a pram, a stumbling drunk, and a businessman collecting his dropped papers. Fortune favoured neither one nor the other as they ran from block to block, panting all the way.

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Marceau, for all his experiece with travelling vast distances, was wearying. His feet fell more and more loosely on the ground, his mouth grew parched, and his legs began to burn for spent proteins and sugars. The retreating figure of his quarry began to fade into the clusters of people passing by rapidly, if only, only he could rest, sit down...rest his weary legs, put down the clumsy rifle and-

NO!

His head snapped up, a grating murmur beyond his hearing sounded, and he shot forward like an arrow from the bow, racing lightly through the crowds, his foeman now beginning to come closer and closer!

Why had he allowed himself that self-pity? Would those poisoned by that man be consoling when he got back from a failed chase? Would they say "Oh, you poor dear, you did your best"? No.

They would feel a deep and just anger that someone had had the chance to capture the man that had put their lives in peril, and passed it up for a chance to rest. So, gathering his focus on the narrow man on the sidewalk pushing roughly through the bystanders, Marceau pushed himself to his very limit of speed, ignoring all else but closing the gap, so he could deal properly with the reckless poisoner.

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GM

Damn! cursed the Silencer. First of all his weapon had been snatched by some fearful hero he just happened to run into (why did that always happen when he was after the Don...)

And now he was running like the wind to escape. And that guy was keeping pace.

His lungs ached, his heart was pounding, and he was covered in a film of sweat. His legs felt numb. He felt like he was breathing acid.

He was in good shape, but he couldn't keep it up, no matter how much he willed his legs to move.

He was exhausted..

And his pursuer was after him.

He had no choice, he couldn't outrun the man. He dived into an alley as his legs started to turn to Jelly. Looking around, it was a dead end. Damn!

He turned to see Marceau turn the corner and face him.

With a swift Kick, he knocked open the door infront of him. He had no idea where it lead, but he dived through it anyway...

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Skidding slightly on the pavement as he ran, Marceau realized in an instant that if the poisoner got inside the building, he could easily be lost, ambush Marceau as he came in after him, or might even have a posse of associates inside armed with whatever was needed to turn him into a corpse. Thinking quickly, marceau gathered his stellar power into an area just within the building, foming a giant golden armored hand that snatched at the fleeing Silencer as he leaped inside. With luck, the lean janitor thought to himself, he could subdue the would-be murderer without risking a proper fight, and take him to the nearest police station and hopefully get some answers as to the 'Why' of the mass-poisoning.

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GM

It could hardly have been closer. As the Silencer dived through the doorway, the golden hand whipped past him, grazing the man but not quite getting hold of him. The hand smashed into masonry and wood, causing dust and splinters to fly everywhere. It ended up with a fist full of wood and bricks.

The shattered door swung on its hinges, leading into some abandoned ground floor apartment. It was in a bad state of dissaray, and dark.

And completely silent.

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Sighing in irritation as the hand missed by inches, Marceau kept running and plunged into the house after the fleeing man. When he had gotten inside he looked around for any sign of the escaping poisoner, but his haste meant that he was unlikely to get any kind of useful information from his cursory examination. His legs now began to inform him by way of lead-like heaviness and burning pain in the joints that he might have pushed himself too hard in his desperate chase.

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GM

The house was old, and in disrepair. One wall had all but crumbled away, and the King of Suits was surprised the building was still standing. It didn't look structurally safe. Unused, old, and in some cases rather mouldy furniture littered the place. It looked like several people had used the place as a dumping ground.

The place as a whole was silent to the core. Not a creak or a whisper.

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With a weary sigh, Marceau set himself diligently to the task of searching the building. He looked through rooms slowly at first, picking up speed as he went through the place, until he had gone from spending four seconds scanning a single room to galloping through entire floors, moving as fast as he could to scour any possible hiding place the mysterious poisoner could have escaped into.

At long last, he finally let the truth sink in: he had lost him. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, none enjoy failure after hard striving, and Marceau had been almost possessed by a desire to capture the careless brute who had poisoned an entire restaurant indiscriminately. At last, five minutes after he emerged from the dusty house, he came out the way he had come, and set off back for where he had come from. He went by back-ways and sidealleys, to avoid a chance meeting with someone who might mistake him for the owner of the bulky weapon he carried. At last, arriving at the pleasant dining place, he squared his shoulders and walked towards the front door. He hoped he would meet some police who he could give the weapon and a description of the encounter, without having to weather the disappointment his arrival without his quarry would bring.

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Rene met Marceau as he came back into the kitchen of the restaurant.

Most of the customers were slowly coming round. Clearly the drug was short acting. It also seemed to have some powerful hypnotic and amnesiac qualities. The customers had rather foggy memories of the last hour or so.

Rene was pouring the last of the coffee down the sink.

"Bit strong for me, eh?" he said, with a slightly serious look on his face. "Did you manage to apprehend ze culprit? I am sorry I could not join you, but my bones are old, my knees are bent, and my hips do ache so...I am a helpless old man, you see..."

He nodded towards the table where Rene and Marceau had been sitting. There, casually drinking a small glass of desert wine, was a prefect image of Marceau!

"I thought you could do with an alibi" explained Rene, with a friendly Shrug, patting the paintbrush he had in his waistcoat.

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"No" even the voice's owner was taken aback by its bitter regret "I lost him in an abandoned complex of some sort. Missed him by inches, Rene, mere inches" he leaned against a wall, looking earnestly at the old painter "Are you alright? Did anyone need medical help?" remembrence came over him suddenly "Oh! Are the police here? I still have that man's weapon, and it's a safe bet his fingerprints are still on it. That and the thourough description we can give should lead quickly to his arrest and punishment"

Glancing into the dining room, Marceau blinked in surprise at the copy of himself, then suddenly laughed quietly, murmering(closely to Rene's ear) "I had no idea you were such a subtle magician, Rene, Well done indeed"

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"Heh heh" chuckled Rene softly "it takes a little work, even for me. Often comes out wrong" he conceded. "But I'm getting better at it..."

With a nod, the image of Marceau stood up and walked without fuss to the kitchen. The truly observant would notice that he was silent, as a painting, but over the general background noise of a restaurant it would have been impossible to tell. The image Marceau deftly dodged a passing waitress and moved to the kitchen. Rene timed it so that the image faded seamlessly to cut with the real Marceau.

"It has been a long time since I applied the medical arts..." continued Rene, remembering his time in the Revolution. But I do remember a few tricks and trinkets. "Nobody was hurt. A few nosebleeds at worst, simple enough to remedy with some ice packs from the freezer. As for the drug, a hypnotic, it will wear off soon enough. Ze kitchen has been good enough to whip up some strong coffee on the house, They are of course, very keen to make sure that they are not implicated in this sorry affair!"

Rene gave Marceau a wink.

"I think we can presume to have made a few friends here, and a few free meals, provided we are not to greedy, oui?"

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Marceau watched with glum interest as the image of himself blended into his body. Being a part of magic was a rather more unnerving feeling than he had thought it would be. At the mention of free food(not to mention the possibility of having made an ally of such a good restaurant), Marceau's head lifted and a gleam came into his eyes. "Oui, monsieur Rene, I concur wholeheartedly. We must take care we aren't too eager to partake of our hosts' generosity, however delectable the result may be". It wasn't easy for Marceau to keep from worrying in the present situation, and after a moment of peaceful chuckles, he turned back to the older man, asking nervously "Do you know who the intended target was, or do you think this was just a random act of terrorism?"

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Rene nodded over to the table. The Don was still looking sleepy, yawning, but was drinking a strong coffee to try and wake up. His two bodyguards were in no better condition.

The lady by his side had not touched the coffee and was nodding sagely, looking quite satisfied with herself.

"I think our friend over their is ze most likely target..." he replied. "I cannot imagine ze Chef would be... One can never trusrt a crook, they are always fighting themselves. And these crooks of today are no better, and perhaps worse, than the crooks of yesterday. What is perhaps more interesting is the, ah, coincidence that we just happened to be here to stop it, hmmm?"

Rene was interupted by a slightly portly middle aged gentleman with a thunderous but friendly face and a jet black elegant moustache. The manager of "Alments Avenir", monsieur Verdoux.

"Aha, ze saviour of ze day!" bellowed monsieur Verdoux. "Please, monsieur deSaens, and monsieur..." he waited for Marcaeu;s name "...ze restaurant is always in your debt, and please, we would be most grateful if this little problem would not be, ahem, to widely advertised..."

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Marceau followed Rene's nod, and unconsciously nodded himself at the explanation for why the Don was the most likely target for the attack. "An odd coincidence indeed, my friend-" ge glanced over apologetically "If that is not too familiar, Rene"

At Monsieur Verdoux's request for his name, he gave it quickly "Suvou, monsieur, and it was a pleasure to be of service to you and yours, you may rest assure that neither I nor monsieur de Saens would dream of sullying your establishment's reputation"

He added after glancing around the room to the proprietor:"Has anyone called the police? I have the poisoner's weapon still with me, and I haven't removed any of his fingerprints, and I as well and monsieur de Saens can provide an accurate description of the attacker, which your kitchen staff can corroborate"

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GM

"Regrettaly, Non" answered Monsieur Verdoux "although we shall, of course. It is just that, how shall I put this, we must tread with some care. This is a new restaurant, Monsieur Suvou, my friend, and as you can see..." he nodded at the Don, still slurping at Coffee "we are not entirely out of reach of some, powerful, individuals, who even if they are not precisely welcome, are not in a position to be refused..."

He sighed.

"At least we aren't serving Italian food" he conceded.

"Of course" he added "we serve Freedom City and the Law, but I just do not want to go under. We have a good reputation, good food, and a good customers. A good community. If word gets round, even if it is ze idle gossip, that we let poison into our coffee..."

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"Monsieur Verdoux" murmured Marceau, "I think I know how to solve this problem of yours" he turned to Rene and said flatly in French to keep anyone but Verdoux from easily guessing the import of his speech "Rene, I'm going to try and convince the Don to keep this issue quiet. Do you have any advice for how I ought to approach such sorts for bargaining, or something that keeps that tack from being a good idea? I'm entirely open to suggestions here. What I plan to do is convince the Don that keeping this matter quiet will make whoever that was that attacked think they can try again and that they aren't viewed as a threat. Thus meaning I can set up an ambush for him which will let us catch this guy before he can try anything like this again. Does that sound reasonable?"

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Rene paused for a moment, stroking his grey goatee.

"It sounds reasonable, Monsieur. I do not know how these mobsters operate, but I have met enough crooks in my years. The Don will want to keep things quiet because that is what the Don does. An attempt on his life will not look good. Falling asleep in his soup looks even worse...

...on the other hand, I doubt he will take kindly to acting as bait. Even if he feels you protected him today. So you may wish to be selective about what you say. "

He nodded towards Lady Tarot.

"And then, I think we have another part to ze equation. Ze Lady over there. I fancy it was her doing that we just happened to be in ze same restaurant at ze same time, to stop ze assasination attempt. I would fancy that this has all been part of a plan, and you may yet be part of ze game of chess..."

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