Avenger looks a bit puzzled when the man smiles and begins talking conversationally after he had just been asked to keep it short.

"Scotch, if you have it..." Avie gives a nod of appreciation for the drink.

"I have always thought that oppurtunity comes to those who know what they seek. Patience, of course, is a necessary part of that. Now, honestly, I have no clue as to where I will start or what I will want once I've finally killed the people responsible for the murder of my mother and father. This here has been my life goal. Once it is over, my quest for personal strength, power, and money are over. In fact, I was thinking if the situation was right, I would attempt to re-establish the Leon name. To completely erase the tragedy from the history books... So, are you willing to tell me the names of the people who ordered my parents murder?"

"I am, but they won't do you much good. The Illuminati are very suspicious and paraniod people, some in my group would argue that comes with the turf, while I like to think that they know what they are doing is wrong and are worried about people exactly like yourself. We've tried in the past to simply eliminate them, but they have more resources than we do, and are able to track down our teams before they kill more than one of them."

He pauses, opening the box to reveal a bottle of scotch and four glasses, he uncerimoniously removes two glasses and the bottle, filling each glass to the halfway point.

"There is a common misnomer amoung people today, some would argue until they have no breath left that this glass is half empty or full, but if you take a step back and look, from before there was twenty year old scotch in it, the glass was empty, I added the spirit to it, filling it up half way. And that glass will remain half full, until you take a sip out of it, and then it's half empty. You see we as people focus entirely too much on the minute, and much less on the big picture. But I digress, and despite your statement about patience being a key point to victory, which it is, I won't try your any more that I have to."

He hands Avie a glass, and takes a stiff swing of his own, looking into the swirling amber of the scotch, no doubt thinking about the small speak he had just made. He stands in silence for what seems like an enternity, but in all practical sense of time, is merely a few moments.

"There are three of them. They control they any means nessicary portion of thier aquisitions concil. Some of my comrades have called them the Unholy Trinity, but I just call them heartless cowards. Now the easiest person to get to would no doubt be Sir Darren Northrope, he was knighted for his services to the English economy, and has let that go straight to his head. Then there is Dr. St'Claire, Oxford, Yale, Harvard, etcetra, he hold four doctorates in Physics, Medicine, Economics, and Politics, one would think that all that education would make him more apprehensive to doing what he does, but to tell the truth I think that it has been the cause of what he does. And then there is the Head of thier little group, not the Illuminati mind you, but in charge of the Aquisitions Board itself, John Farson, one of our researchers brought up that there was a character in a stephen king book, several actually, and anywhere the name showed up in that same book was a hint to the true nature of the keys. We are frantically trying to research if the name similarity is prophetic, or merely coincidence. I don't know about you, but I don't believe in coincidence."

Al

"Simsense eh? Would I have seen you in anything," she asks.

"Well, aside from the fact 'at a delicate flower such as yerself seems unlikely ta be slottin' the kinda red-meat-eatin' license-ta-kill action blockbuster fare I'm gon' be headlinin', no, ain't been in nothin' yet. But as destiny is my witness, only a matter o' time, li'l darlin', only a matter o' time."
Al continues, his soliloquy punctuated by mouthfuls of grits - "Now I kin see by yer face what'cher thinkin' - 'Shore, this feller's got the requisite looks an' then some, an' right oozin' cherismuh, bet yer last nickel he's got what it takes ta carry a big budget epic, an' maybe even garner an' Oscar or two, but it takes more'n raw talent.' Yeah, I know what'cher gettin' at - with all the well an' truly talented individuals down in Tinseltown, it takes more'n star power - ya gots ta git discovered. Well trust me when I tell ya, ol' Al's got THAT base covered."
He polishes off his meal in record time and leans back lighting a cigarette - "But then seein' as how y'all knew Mr. Patch here wuz our doc, an' ya seems ta already are familyer with muh own world travels, I reckon ya already know about ol' Al's date with Hollywood destiny, or am I wrong?"

"Thank you Papa Doc. This looks delicious." Patch takes a bite of his meal then takes a sip of coffee and scrunches up his face. He produces the bottle of scotch from his long jacket and poors what a trained eye would consider a half of a shot. He takes another sip and smiles. "That hits the spot." He turns to the other two and holds up the bottle. "Would either of you like to add a little Irish to your coffee?"

"Ha, thank you for revealing the information. And I will guarantee you that I will not fail where you have." He drinks down a lot of the Scotch that was poured for him. "Well, that said, how many times have you tried to kill this unholy trinity? Perhaps we should pool our resources to fight this common enemy?"

"Well, *heh heh* more of a beer man, muhself, but since yer off'rin'..." Al says, sliding his mug appreciatively across the table to Patch. "An' now that Ms. McLoy's shared her asp'ration, an' I done graced us all with a peek at muh own destiny, howzabout yerself, there Patch? Or any o' y'all, fer that matter," Al adds, looking around at any others present.

Avie

Again that dicomforting smile.

"Well I can assure you tenacity alone, while very useful, is not enough for you to accomplish your goals. A collaboration is what we are doing right now, I don't mean to belittle your life's goal, far be it, revenge is while a bit sophmoric, an honorable quest, but I think, for the time being, your sights should be focused on the bigger picture. We are in the end game now, the forces of red and white, are matched on each side of the battle field. I can only hope that you suceed in your assignment. I know that to you it's a means to an end, and you probably don't believe much of what I said in the cargo hold, about ancient power and the like, so this is just a means to an end for you, but I would like to pass on a piece of advice, one that comes from not myself, but the resident jack of all trades aboard the ship. Honestly it makes very little sense to me, he says that you will understand it when you need to. Don't take the Rook at face value. You can if you wish, pass that along to the rest of your group, or not, it's up to you."

"Ahhh..." Patch takes another sip of his irish coffee. "My destiny isn't as glamorous as yours there Al. "I have this clinic. Nothing much mind you, but for me it's perfect. Thing is I started her a little early. Sure I had enough capital to get her going, but not enough to keep her going while we built our client base. I hope to one day to be just a doctor fixing people up. I look forward to one day having a nice quiet life. Speaking of which if you or anyone you know needs fixing up Patches People Repair is always open." With that Patch digs back into his breakfast.

"Well my hat goes off to ya, pal. Puttin' the Lord's children back together again, prolongin' the days o' their probation, if'n ya will, well that's a real fine callin' in life. Real fine. An' ol' Al ain't one ta fergit his friends once his ship comes in, nosirreebob. It ain't gonna be all sexy starlets and champagne bubble baths, though I daresay such things'll be in no short supply. I'll admit I'm a bit tapped out fer the nonce, but once I git ta Hollywood - boy, they got money down there, GIVIN' it away - once I git ta Hollywood first thing I'm gone' do is make a fat donation to yer clinic."

"You seem awfully cheery about talking with me about these matters, oh mono-orbed one. Be that as it may, have you any other clues or information you would like to divulge? If not, than I for now, I am inclined to agree that focus on our present course of action is our best bet for achieving our goals. Perhaps we should go join our comrades for breakfast and you can continue telling me as much about the illuminati there, as it seems they shall be the main threat for all of us." Avenger finishes his scotch and waits for the captain's response as he collects himself to rejoin the others.

"Well let me just say this about my cheery demeanor. Most people go about thier lives reading on page of the book at a time. An intelligent man, or an inventive one, may read as far ahead as a chapter, and then, not to sound egotistical, there are people like myself and Mr. Farson, or so I'm told, who read the table on contents. Sure it's not as detailed as reading the book, but it gives you a bit of a heads up, as to what to expect," he says, giving a wink in his eyeless socket.

"But your idea is a fine one, the vigilantes in these parts make it too difficult for me to go back to sleep, and I'm feeling a bit peckish."

He sets his empty scotch glass down and motions for Avie to put his own glass in the same spot. Without word he opens the door to the captain's room, and walks, not checking to see if Avie is following, up the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Mister Chef, can you fix myself and Mr. Leon one of your famous 'suprise breakfasts'?"

"Yea, jus' gimme a few seconds."

"No hurries my old friend."

"I see you spilled the beans about certain things," Vivi said, "good, I was getting very tired of that Captain Ahab routine."

"Yahar, little laydee, me too," he says lathering on the thick pirate accent he had been speaking in only two hours ago.

He was not the pirate type, Raven liked to think of himself as a stately buisness man, nothing more, nothing less.

Avie walks behind the captain into the kitchen area. He visibly winces once the captain says, "Mr. Leon." He turns to see how many people caught that in his group not surprised to see them all sharp-witted enough to have almost guessed what was going on. "Please, call me Vinny or Vince, Mr. Leon is too formal." He looks at the other 'runners and says. "Well, I suppose secret's out! Might as well make it formal. This run just turned personal for me. Word of warning, if I go suicidal, none of yous have to feel it necessary to watch my back."

Whoa ho! More'n just KNEW the family, IS the family! And a moment later, Avenger confirmed Al's guesswork.
"Rest easy, pal," Al growled, "However deep ya gotcher self inta this here tale o' wonder an' woe, I gotcher back alla way ta the gates o' Hades, an' I reckon that goes fer the rest as well."

"Thanks.... That's, much appreciated Al." Avenger offers the man a handshake in gratitude and a small tight lipped smile.

With the revelation of Avenger's family Patch thinks to himself Just don't get to many holes put in ya when you do go suicidal. I'm good, but not divine. To every one else he just looks like he is sipping his coffee.

Al attempted to give Avenger's hand a firm shake, but his burn-mottled mitt managed little more than a feeble tug. But what his grip lacked, his gravel-on-chalkboard voice more than made up for:
"Well, afore I git all teary-eyed and we each of us starts explorin' our feelin's fer one another, I am off ta catch me some fish," he announces, standing up, stripping off his brown leather jacket, and once again pulling his big survival knife. "Gittin' light 'nuff now ta see by, shun'n't be no trouble. Skipper, any chance o' stoppin' the boat a tick? Ol' Al ain't THAT fast a swimmer...."

"What do you need a fish for, when you asked about fishing gear I just assumed you were hungry."

The captain looked a bit funny at Al wondering if the man was crazy.

Papa Doc spoke up, "Eh be wantin' ta make some voodoo, I see is' baubles round' is' neck, my grandmamie used to do dat'. But I tell ya' mon' you be about as voodoo, as the breakfast I gave ya."

Al's face lights up at the perceived compliment from Papa Doc - "Why thank ye kindly sir - succulent breakfast, pow'rful mojo!"
He turns back to Raven - "Like I wuz tryin' ta 'splain ta ya afore breakfast, ya said the li'l missy an' 'er new book might could see inta 'er future - well what if she sees US there? Not ta mention whatever other kinda long-range whammy them Illuminated folks might could cook up. I mean, hell, somebody sent an unsigned warnin' to Seb when he was researchin' them artifacts, so somebody already knows we's on this here goose chase. I reckon the sooner I puts us up an impenetratable web o' defensive mystical energies, the sooner we kin all rest easier. An' since ya ain't got no chickens aboard, fish'll have ta do."

Papa Doc gives a puzzled look.

"So if ya not be voodoo, why d' ya want ta be makin' dem baubles," the cook asks.

Al gives a puzzled look.

"No, fella, I think we got our wires crossed somewheres. I BE voodoo, so I DO want ta be makin' dem baubles. Helps keep me in contact with the voodoo buddies. If I done said anythin' ta the contrary, then I apologize fer any confusion.
"So now we got that straightened out, howzabout pullin' the boat over, Cap? 'Cuz ever'y second goes by, the plasma tendrils o' the Illuminateds' arcaynery be gittin' closer. Kin feel it in muh bones."