4656/Counting Chicken Eggs

Counting Chicken Eggs
Date of Scene:	14 June 2018
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Egghead, Zatanna Zatara

---

Egghead has posed:
A charity gala for endangered elephants in Africa was being held in Gotham City, run by a local Mafia-connected import/export family. The Sheanessies, Irish by extraction and prominently connected in Greece, Italy, and Ireland, controlled ports of call via shipping companies that brought stuffed animals and other toys throughout the world, via the Mediterranean channel. The cause of endangered elephants was near and dear to the family matron's heart, having once witnessed a dog get put down by the family butler when she was a child. In a Gotham family allied with the Mafia, where your containers are used for weapons and drug trafficking, a gun shot is how a bodyguard butler to a child removes a threat.

That's all ancient business, however, the incident dating to the 1950s. Tonight, a different piece of business is on the table.

The youngest of the Sheannessies, a painter and daughter of the occult, named Alice Sheannessy, had rejected Egghead in a humiliating way. Edgar Heed had done business with all the families here as a finance majordomo to their illicit bank work, and Alice, after humiliating him, had brought her new boyfriend to show off (particularly in Edgar's direction).

Hero Gotham Homicide Investigator Reggie Wilkers, a broad, muscled African-American male in his 20s, with an immaculate professional record and a natural intuition for Gotham's criminals from his days as an MP in Iraq.

Egghead lingered across the room from Alice and Reggie, nursing a lemon martini, smiling oddly.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna has been rubbing elbows with people all night. "Thank you so much for your help! I hope you enjoyed those free tickets I sent you?" "We've done a lot of good tonight. I'm so glad you were here." "No, I wasn't planning on doing a few tricks tonight,but if you're patient you might get lucky." It's not something she's unused to. Zatanna's family is Italian and mob circles are ones she's been peripherally aware of her entire life. Her father wasn't a mobster but he was friends with a lot of powerful and interesting people.

Zatanna has acquired her own martini tonight and is sipping on it delicately. Carefully coifed ringlets and are allowed to dfall across her shoulders like a black waterfall, and the long red gown she's wearing calls perfect attention to every motion, shimmering when she walks. In heels Zatanna is 5'10" and she struts like a runway model. These are people she knows. Friends, colleagues... Contributors. And for once she's doing something good. At the moment she is smiling at Reggie and inclining her head. "Thank you for your service. With the Police Department and in the Military. I'm so glad you made it."

Edgar is ignored for now. Lots of people smile oddly when Zee is about. It's a hazard of the business. Confidence attracts eyes, and the right outfit never hurts.

Egghead has posed:
Edgar Heed knows Zatanna by reputation. Egghead is Italian as well, the descendent of a family that brought the Black Plague to Genoa from a Caspian Sea trading post. He knows all the moves that a Homo Magi can attempt, and has even delved into discovering the secrets of Atlantis, but the rather dark history of his family is one prone to purging out esoteric knowledge that is the birthright of a merchant from the Renaissance.

Zatanna is all part of the plan. Perhaps she didn't notice, but her invitation was printed on egg-shell paper. One of Egghead's many chivalrous bows and strategies, simply for his own amusement, his rebellion against the polite society of others.

"Thank you, Miss Zatara," Reggie says with a smile. "Anything I can do for anyone, I do it. Luckily, all I have to do tonight is make this lady look pretty."

Alice giggles demurely, her red hair and green dress looking immaculate, the very thing that attracted Egghead to her in the first place. He's a fanatic for Camille Saint Saens.

And then, there's a cough, as she is suddenly taken aback by her glass of fruit punch. She doesn't drink, she is vegan, and she is scrupulous about her health and breeding, but even this particular trick got past her. Her hand starts shaking, the fruit glass laced with arrow frog toxin, her bare hands no match for what the kid gloves of a decorated veteran inside Gotham City weren't even aware of.

Reggie looks at the shaking, gasping Alice Sheannessy, blinking in concern, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright, Alice?"

Alice moans, knocking the hand away and cursing in Italian as she stumbles away in a random gesture. There are gasps, as her family looks towards her, wide-eyed.

Arrow frog is native to South America, and Reggie Wilkers is Afro-Brazilian.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"We should call an ambulance," Zatanna opines, adjusting her gloves as Alice is stumbling away from Reggie. She's watching with wide blue eyes, casting about briefly. One of the waiters is already moving for a phone and Zee calls after the woman in Italian, "I'm not sure you're well. You should go to the hospital!" She, of course, has no idea about Arrow Frog venom or what this entails but the concern is still obvious on the woman's face.

"...I'm sorry, Detective Wilkers. Should you go after her?" Zee glances at her martini, which she has been sipping this whole time. Then she takes another sip. After all, why would it have anything to do with the drinks? It's probably a food allergy, or so suggests one of the other waiters, a man chattering on in Italian while arrangements are being made. There's a concierge medical service on standby and they're sending a car over. Whether or not Alice chooses to leave is irrelevant at this juncture.

Egghead has posed:
Within ten minutes, a medical ambulance and police are on the scene, speaking to Detective Wilkers on cool terms. Alice Sheannessy, meanwhile, has been resucitated, and is sitting up on a stretcher, taking in oxygen, while a doctor that was brought along attempts to diagnose her. The police are canvassing the crowd, asking questions, while they deal with this mystery, before Egghead steps into the central mezzanine of the gala, dressed in his golden cape and white-yellow suit, a golden walking stick with an ivory egg for a crown in his hand.

"May I lend my assistance, gentlemen?" he asks with a smooth couture to his voice, smiling and bowing his head forward, tilting to his left.

The police know of Egghead as a money launderer and security systems analyst, with an official facade as a venture capitalist for investments of a motley fool nature. Despite the fact that he's been incarcerated in Arkham before, mostly for mild crimes, he's hardly the worst thing in Gotham City, often cooperating with the police whenever necessary.

"I don't like this," Wilkers says, to another police officer, whereas the homicide captain countermands the detective.

"Cool it, Wilkers. This man is a SHIELD investigation accomplice in the database."

Egghead bows his head. "Anything I can do to be of service."

In fact, the police already know, everyone here has some sort of criminal connection. This is Gotham City, after all, and in every city there's a reality, whether it's working with the rackateered labor unions of Gotham, or dealing with LexCorp's political corporate machine in Metropolis.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Then, of course, there is Zatanna. The magician and social organizer, squeaky clean in her own right and yet rubbing elbows with shady characters all over the city. She likes the spotlight and few people shower a pretty girl with attention more freely than crooks with money to burn. A comparison could be made to Marilyn Monroe in that regard. Of course, that makes it a very dangerous game.

The mention of SHIELD being involved has the magician lfot an eyebrow while she sips delicately on the drink she's still working on and wastches the room. With Alice already receiving medical attention and everyone else running in circles trying to deal with the resulting wildfire Zee is left to make observations of her own. But, truth be told, the situation hasn't become any of her business yet. Really, if Zatanna had her head on straight, she'd stay out of it. She always liked a mystery, however, and Alice's collapse happened at *her* party. So she watches and waits, smiling prettily at guests and apologizing for the ruined party.

Reggie's anxiety over Egghead is enough to garner him a second look, her brows lghtly furrowed. "I, for one, would be rather curious to know if Mr. Heed knows anything about what happened at my gala. This is all very peculiar. Do you have any leads so far...?"

Egghead has posed:
Reggie Wilkers glares at Egghead, white hot death, fully aware of all the implications in police profiling that made a veteran of a hostile state controlled by Taqiya (the Arabic term for 'deception', an essential part of the Islamic theological code meant for defense of the community), one of the most amazing detectives to have entered Gotham City's precincts in recent years. The wholesale oppressing of Taqiya-practicioners across all lines induced narcissistic tendencies in the entirety of a community living within the Patriot Act, or other United States occupation forces. Detective Wilkers knows just how to profile every form of duplicity and even insanity present in a narcissistically induced community, which is perfect for understanding the likeminded 'freaks' of Gotham City.

"Poison dart frog, golden variety. Like this overdressed ponce's outfit. I'm from Brazil, that's a cartel hit."

There are mute stares from around the crowd at Wilkers' statement, the thought that a South American drug cartel could come to a city so influenced by international crime, a gateway to the markets of America for all manner of vice. The police look at each other curiously, while the doctor treating Alice turns over her swollen right hand.

"Very good, Detective Wilkers," Egghead replies, pushing his cane forward a tilt. "But can you tell me how a cartel hit could happen here, without a hitter to put that glass of punch in dear Alice's hand?" Egghead asks. He smiles softly, aware that only Wilkers can read his narcissistic omissions of truth and self-omissions in relations to his mode of dress, covering the ivory egg with his hand after having allowed Wilkers to see it for a moment.

Wilkers looks down at his glove, the symbol of a police in dress uniform, before he looks up at Egghead shaking in rage.

There's a long, enraged glare from Wilkers at the racially charged accusation, while Egghead merely smiles serenely. And then, Egghead looks to Zatanna. "Tell me, Miss Zatanna, how many spoiled eggs does it take to ruin an omelet?"

The crowd looks positively medieval in terms of their anger, bothered by the police presence trapping them here, and now, the paranoia that there could be a rival gang from Latin America here. The younger among them are muttering about the Detective, the older ones are watching Egghead to see why he's brought a simple illusionist into the fray.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "Jughead was never a murderous rampaging monster so much as a dangerous superpowered thug."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "Most people's moments mean you punch someone. But when you can pick up semis and so can your opponent scale is way off."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "You know, I think I'm good on that bean flavor."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "My answers must have been just that good. And just that brief."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "For giving me that gross bean, Diana, you are no longer my friend. :("