[News crew following him around all day? Strange, but not unwanted. Don't mind if this Archangel just runs with it and makes the best out of this.

Have the biggest smile and that kind of attitude you only find in reality show hosts that were made for the job. Gabe is standing near the fountain and behind him is a tent which stands wide open as if inviting everyone to come inside.]

Goooooood Morning, Stockholm!

My name is Gabriel and on this fine morning, I'd like to alert you to a very special birthday. One Mindy Macready is turning 12 today and y'all should come party with her.

I mean, look at this...

[He gestures for the camera crew to follow him as he leads the way into the part tent where it looks like someone vomited Hello Kitty. Inside there are streamerseverywhere, a few piñatas hang from the ceiling,and on a big, centeral, table there are cakes and utensils. On a side-table near the entrance there are party hats for people to wear and one special one that Gabriel dons himself.]

See? How can you go wrong with Hello Kitty? So, come on over, have some cake, meet the birthday girl, take a swing at a Papier-mâché cat, whatever strikes your fancy.

Oh and, birthday girl? Might want to head over here pronto I've got a couple of things for you.

[He moves the camera to show a dress and a doll set out on a seperate table away from everything else. And, with a wink and a winning smile, Gabe cuts the transmission.

[Alexis is sitting in a chair while a couple of women fuss over his appearance. Behind him, there's a guy with a boom mic, getting ready for the shot they're about to take. This is all rather amusing.]

I appear to have some uninvited guests who seem very interested in my life. Unfortunately, they are becoming very frustrated since I haven't done anything worth noting for their footage. At least, this is what they've told me.

[He glances at them.]

The Life and Wonder of Alexis Hargreaves. An intriguing title but I'm afraid that I'm rather dull.

Pity for them.

[The device turns on, obviously with its owner unaware of it doing so. The pink haired girl is in the kitchen pulling out a cookie pan of croquettes and placing them on the counter to cool for a bit as she removes the pink oven mitt from her hand. Picking up a fork, she impales one, then brings it up to his lips as she blows on it to cool it down. Taking a bite, she chews on it for a moment before proceeding to look sad.]

They don’t… taste the same…

[And the device turns off on its own.]

[It's a strange angle the camera is positioned at, it captures Serrure set up at a makeshift table on a street corner, three cards turned face up on it.]

All right, all right, keep your eye on the Red Queen, that's the Queen of Hearts. Trust me, gentlemen, she will break yours on a whim. [He flips the cards over and shuffles them around, it's surprisingly easy to follow the Queen.]

Now, choose your lady, good sir? [The man behind the table points to the card that by all rights should be the queen. Serrure reaches for it and as his fingers brush the card, there is the faintest flash of green, only someone really looking for it would realize what it was. He flips the card over and it is-] Ah! Knave of Spades. Sorry, my good Sir. Looks as though your loss is-

[And then the camera dashes out towards Serrure and the gambler as someone yells-] LOKI'D! You've been LOKI'D!

[Serrure just stands there, blinking] Ah- no, no. [He puts his hands up, almost a placating gesture] You have the wrong person, I'm Serrure. And this is legitimate, a business that you are-

[But the gambler is interjecting] What? This was a trick? A setup? I want my money back.

[Serrure snatches the money.] SORRY, NO REFUNDS! [He calls over his shoulder, taking off running an demonstrating some surprisingly well honed parkour skills.]

[ Pepper's been in her office almost entirely since she discovered Tony was gone. She feels like the arc reactor she had in her chest last weekend has been torn out, and the only way she knows to cope is to throw herself into her work. But there's only so much work you can do, and only so many hours you can hide yourself from the world, so Pepper decides it's time to engage in Tony's old coping mechanism... drinking. ]

I'm afraid in my time here I haven't yet had the opportunity to try any of the bars. What would you recommend for a quiet night, possibly alone?

[Rapunzel's working on something in the kitchen with Pascal, humming to herself as she works on a cake.]

Okay, so I have no idea what Mindy wants for her birthday, but you can't really go wrong with chocolate cake, right?

[Pascal, who's been working with a grater that appears comically over-sized next to him, nods eagerly and looks up, giving Rapunzel a reassuring smile. In doing so, he gets distracted long enough to run out of chocolate...and grate his little chameleon hand.]

Pascal! Stop, your hand!

[Pascal pulls back immediately, looking at his slightly cup up hand in horror. Rapunzel sighs, because this is obviously not the first time this has happened, picking up Pascal and giving him A Look as she wraps a small bunch of hair around his hand.]

Honestly, Pascal, I keep telling you not to get distracted in the kitchen...you remember the last time one of us stopped paying attention while baking? You almost got made into a pie.

[Her chameleon friend grimaces at the memory, and Rapunzel just laughs.]

Okay, you know the drill. Just hold still a second.

[And Rapunzel begins to sing, her hair glowing as she does so.]

Flower, gleam and glow...let your power shine...make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine...

[As she's singing and healing Pascal's foot, a voice comes from off-screen.]

And here we see the lovely miss Rapunzel, working her magic on her good friend, Pascal. That's right, folks, the hair isn't just long for show! It's got magic healing powers, too, as you can see here. Wonder why she's kept that under wraps for so long?

[At this, Rapunzel freezes in horror, turning to the camera. She suddenly realizes somebody has been filming her. She's been good at not telling everybody about her hair, only a select few who she trusts/who need the immediate help her hair can provide...and now everybody will know.]

Who said that? How did you get in here? Stop filming this minute!!

[She gets up, quickly putting a confused Pascal on the counter, before going to get whoever is filming this as the video ends.]

[ From the look of things, Ariadne appears to be in the Inception House's kitchen, staring intently at a piece of paper in front of a cookie jar. There's a pen in her hand, the tip pressed to the paper, but every time she goes to write something, she ends up shaking her head and stilling. This continues for several minutes before she finally starts to write. Once she's finished, the pen is set down and the paper held up so the camera can see what she wrote: Pancake. Once the camera has seen it, she begins to whisper. ]

I'm sorry Pancake, but I can't afford to let you turn against me and vote with Arthur because he offered you more treats. I have to vote you off the island.

[ With that said, Ariadne folds the paper in half and places it in the cookie jar, the feeding cutting out as she turns her back. ]

[Video]

[Curt is speaking to the confession cam. There is a tiny logo in the corner of the screen, indicating that we're watching City's Next Top Cat Trainer.]

I wouldn't say I have a strategy, exactly. I mean, for me it's kind of a success when my cat doesn't attack me as soon as I bring the hoop out.

[Curt turns the camera a bit and we can see Beast, his cat, hissing at a hula hoop.]

I'm trying not to let it get me down, though, you know? I could still turn this thing around if the other contestants are having this much trouble. Which they might be, because I'm not really sure it's possible to train a cat to do anything.

[He scrunches up his face in thought and then goes to turn the camera off while muttering.]

I think I need to call my manager.

[ooc: Open for action if you would like to be another contestant or a judge. They're in a mansion somewhere, idk.]

[ The video zooms in to one James Rhodes, wearing his dress blues and sitting at the bar -- yes, again -- with one elbow propped up and his head in his hand, the other cradling a beer.

He doesn't look happy.

There's a voice comming from off-screen: ] This fine specimen of man is Col. James Rhodes and he has good reason to be in the bar today. Guess what? His best friend, Tony Stark, has left the City and he's drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Healthy coping mechanisms.

[ Rhodey's mouth twists, something angry and bitter in his expression, but his voice is still mostly even when he speaks. ]

I seriously don't need the running commentary, man.


[ ooc; So. Tony's gone and Rhodey is getting drunk. Italics are some NPC commentator. Come buy him a drink and cheer him up or join him in his misery. ]

[Todd is seen sitting at a desk, scribbling away in a notebook. Every few moments, he pauses, moves his lips as he silently reads over what he's just written, and considers it. Sometimes, he lets it remain as is. More often, he scratches out a bit - or all - of it, and hesitantly rewrites it, pushing forward a line at a time. A narrator's voice comes over the feed, grand and imposing but warm.]

The creative process of one Todd Anderson, a young but promising poet recently turned playwright, is not an easy one. Constantly retooling, rewording, and rethinking his work, Todd is reluctant to call any piece finished.

[Perfectly timed, he rips out a page, crumples it up into a ball, and tosses it into a trashcan he keeps near the desk. The ball is far from alone in that bin.]

But he presses ahead regardless, his slight confidence bolstered by the belief of others, friends and admirers who encourage him not only to find the strength to form his words but also to share them. It can never be said that Todd has not made progress, with a show opening under his belt, and a modest but sincere following.

[The scene switches now, to a grainy night-vision shot. Clearly, some stock footage that's been on hand, somehow.

The trash is there, by the desk, but someone creeps up to it in the night - clearly it's none other than one Neil Perry, for those who would recognize the boy.

Neil reaches into the bin and, one by one, pulls out the crumpled-up papers, smooths them out, and stacks them on the desk. When he's retrieved all of them, he slips away with the stack, to stow them away in some hidden spot.]

A following which, in later years, Todd may very well thank for their drastic measures.

[Video Post]
[A slow rise at first out of darkness and the image eventually clears to reveal a long, slow view of Cain's room in the Opera Abandoned. It stops on Cain himself, who is sitting in the red armchair he keeps in the corner of his room, one small table to the side, on which is sitting a fresh cup of tea, which is steaming gently. It seems untouched. The lighting is rather deliciously dramatic, but Cain looks a bit...harrowed: there are shadows around his eyes and he does not look either pleased or especially polished. He has recovered himself this much after Riff's sudden departure, but no more. The camera remains on him, at a middling range, showing enough of the room to be interesting, but still keeping its focus, clearly. Cain seems to be trying to maintain some semblance of calm. He's holding an open book, but not reading from it--his focus is apparently too scattered.

But the important thing to note here is that this recording is not from Cain's device, nor of his choosing: his Network device is closed on his desk (just out of view) and his more portable device is sitting quietly next to the saucer of his teacup. If that's not enough, the fact that this is not a recording of his own should be fairly obvious by the displeased glances he's throwing to whatever camera is recording him, and whoever might be behind it. He knows it's there, and he knows it's running, and he doesn't like it. It should be quite clear what's going on when a voice speaks from behind the camera:]

Really...Lord Hargreaves--

[Cain interrupts and his eyes flick up, angry.]

--I've nothing to say to you.

[The voice insists:]

Yes, but recent events being what they are--

--I've answered as many of your questions as I would care to--even the impertient ones. It's more than you deserved, really. If you'd like me to say something else, perhaps you ought to think differently about the questions you're asking. Or perhaps you ought not to ask them at all.

Entertain yourselves with with that. I certainly won't be answering them, either way.

[He turns back to his book...]

But, really, the City--

--Is apparently fascinated by my life and my day-to-day affairs and should like to know about them, yes, or so you told me. That's hardly a new situation, if it's true at all. It was true in London, and I never answered so many questions there. I found it much more agreeable that way.

One should leave a few mysteries intact. And it would do you well to learn some respect for one's privacy

[He keeps his focus ostensibly on the book.]

Very well, then. About your reputation--both here and in London--and the reputation of your family. It's well-known the kinds of things that have been said. If for no one besides your admirers and perhaps even scholars of history or scholars of, well, even more peculiar subjects, can't you tell us something. For instance, the recent departure of your--

[But that seems to have done it. This time he interrupts by abruptly standing up and tossing aside the book from his lap.]

I believe it's quite time for you gentlemen to depart. He-Who-Kills can escort you out if you're in need of help in finding the door.

[And Cain gives the camera one last, long look--darkly, seriously--and perhaps the camera operator understands this time as the image disappears abruptly with a click and a flash of darkness and--]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: A documentary about Cain's life would be...rather complicated. Anyway, there was more to this, but it's since mysteriously gone missing. Hmm... I welcome all talking head interviews in this post |D Let's do it!! This is like..."The Hills" only...not? Maybe it's just an outright documentary. Either way: come, let us talk. Endlessly.]

9:35 PM - Lusty Lady Plan B's Million Dollar Saloon

[A shadowy car filled with production staff is the first scene this time. The head producer, bearing a black eye and talking loudly into her phone is the current focus:]

Yes we followed her here, but Masifnads is refusing to have anything to do with it. What is she doing in there? Fuck if I know, it's the third titty bar she's hit, and she won't talk to us. [She glances at the camera with a frown.] Are you still filming this? Jesus. Fine. Come on, we're going in.

[The crew disembarks. Possibly a bit too eagerly, and none too stealthily, but they keep their distance from Carla, and even though she gives a threatening motion that involves their throats, she's quick to return her attention to the woman she's donating red coins to. She takes out her phone eventually, and someone with a lapel mic sneaks close enough that she can sort of be heard over the music.]

I've got her on tips, Bela, bring some cuffs and we'll drag her in.

[It's about then that the camera finally catches sight of the cowboy. So does Carla, and she frowns, stopping mid-sentence as he approaches the naked woman Carla's been watching. It appears she's not the only one who's managed to track this particular bail jumper down. And that just won't do. Carla gets on her feet to poke a finger in his chest, staring up at him.]

Back off.

[He smirks at her blandly and there's really not a whole lot more reiteration of that before she has a fist aimed at his face. All of the attention in the bar turns to them... except for their target, who realizes what they were after and makes a very swift exit.

Under their breath and caught by the mic, someone breathes out,]

This is gold.

DOES SHE COUNT AS A LADY, OR SHOULD SHE GET WHAT'S COMING TO HER?
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