Walking the Fence

June 14, 2014: Catwoman hires herself a little help in the form of Rant.

Gotham, Tin Roof Club

Selina's club in the East End.



  • Thugs
  • Keith

Mood Music:

The Tin Roof Lounge in East End is anything but tucked away, or hard to find. It's known for its plush luxury despite the streets outside and what occurs there. Friday night and small spotlights of red and blue aim towards the cloudy sky, splitting the darkness with a signal… Not bearing a Bat-cast shadow. Once they cross beams, purple bleeds downward to the sidewalk where guide rails are posted to keep the line in a form of order to get in. No windows, no way to see what goes on inside unless you are a member, and to be a member you need an invite, referral, or approval.

For all of these things the brawny men at the door check for, scanning their cards and allowing them through. It would all seem rather upper crust if it was not for the fact that one of the men was missing an eye and another's short cropped hair of a high and tight showed the scars that ravaged his scalp and split the hairs solidarity. Hired for their foreboding appearance alone?

Within lights glow white and purple from the furnishings, casting an ambiance over a white tiled floor that also casts a light glow as well, the only lights within save how they come to reflect off the hanging chandeliers. Expensive taste dwells within and yet still does not match the bouncers who are yet another resemblance of 'thugs' that man the doors. A stage is set to the far back and behind as well as beside it, black velvet curtains remain closed, but the jeweled chains sow that doors lay beyond - closed from the prying eyes of the public.

Here is where Selina sent Rant the invite to, and the card in her hand will let her pass quicker then most.

It's rare, now a days, for Rant to actually get a job where she'd have to travel out of New York and into Gotham to. In fact, she tried to stay away from Gotham all together because the urge was there to drain Wayne industries of all it's fortunes and secrets. You try to go straight, you got to sacrifice, right? But this job was something else and the money was good where hers was tight. So whomever hired her knew a guy, who know a guy who had a cousin who knew a guy, it was how these things work. Be far removed and never let them see your face, or let them know that you're an actual woman who's a shit ton shorter than you and couldn't fight a lick if she tried. Most of the cats in Gotham were all Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, Rant.. or Mels as she would call herself to those who knew her, was all windmills and Ruby Rod screams.
If she was to never show her face and made that promise to do it, why now? As stated before, money was tight and her store was on the verge of closing. She ate ramen noodles here and there, often times stealing Macaroni and Cheese packages because she vowed to never shit big where she lived and eats. Plus when you live in the same city near where that masochist sets himself on fire… yeah. Rant liked her ass to remain uncrispy, thanks.
Her approach to the club was met with apprehension, but she pressed on. The card was shone and one of the uglies, let's call him Keith cause it's not really intimidating, showed her to the back. She took in the place with a bit of a raised brow and a slight nod, yeah. She was going to get paid. She was going to eat some fuckin maki-maki tonight if it kills her. Keith, so affectionately named, lifts a hand and steps ahead to leave her waiting alone outside. Not that he needed to frisk Rant, she rarely came armed and if she had the opportunity to fight for her life, she'd RuPaul it stage left. Besides, how wrong could all of this go? It was private enough, no one outside these walls would really know what she was going to, so for all intents and purposes, Rant considered this a spot of safety.

"Ah, se degouter. This game is not going my way. Bout another hand, friends?" The Cajun's shade covered eyes roam the table, a slight smile worn across his handsome features as he reclines back, a set of fingers flicking out to toss his current hand of cards on to the table, "I am going to end up pauvre at this rate. I'm begin' to think you all be play'n Remy."
The wide faced, broad shouldered man in the striped suit across from him grins showing off several gold crowns. "You sat at the table, thats on you."
To the man's left a woman smiles, her long lashes flutter across the table at the attractive newcomer. A cross of the legs make sure the slit of her dress rides high, "Don't worry, if you can't pay you can make up for it in other ways."
"Oh see, now that is a language I can speak." The rogue fires back, his dark brows lifting above the black lenses of his glasses.
"Thats my wife." Snarls a dark skinned fellow, a nasty scar running up the left side of his face almost reddens with the curl of his features.
"Apologies, mon ami. Let us keep it light… one more round?"

"Keith". Yes, we'll stick with that if that is what helps you sleep at night, by all means! Before he could reach the doors barred in velvet curtains the earpiece is touched by a large fingertip, making that device seem far more tiny and frail seated within his ear. He stops, not far from Remy's table of /gambling/ and gestures for Rant to stop as well. "She comes." The man states in a heavy Russian accent. English is not his first language, but if people knew how to simply move, they did not need to speak at all.

One milky eye turns down to the tiny woman and he gestures to a table to his right that already has maitre d's already setting it up, some people that occupied too close, moved elsewhere.

The curtain ripples and opens, Selina pushing her way past, stiletto heels of silver clicking over the tiled flooring, heralding the woman's entrance, leather wrapped from toe to mid-calf, laces running up the back of those boots that are glimpsed beneath the long skirt bearing high slits, both in front and positioned just over appendages to make them purposefully visible with each stride. Laces ride up the front of that black satin dress, starting at the top of each slit to come up and over her chest where the dress ends its curve-hugging contour without straps to keep it in place.. Not needed with the way it is snugly and firmly held. Always somehow 'in uniform'. Short, razor-ed black hair hangs down, tamed and yet nicely in place.

Approaching "Keith" and Rant, blue gaze flicks to her and a brow rises sharply. "I won't underestimate you due to size, it's a good thing this is not -that- kind of business."

"Spasibo." She says to "Keith" and he turns and leaves them, also giving Remy the -eye- in passing.

Keith was awesome. It was a wholesome name that was filled with goodness and butterflies, which was pretty comical considering who it belonged to. She was at Keith's back however when he stopped, her own head turning in time to spot the card game that was afoot. She turned into that direction of the table to watch the banter, leaning a little to the side to peek and see if she could spot the sequence of cards from one person, which would easily allow her to deduce the next if she were to amble behind and by the rest. Rant was no card counter, but if there was a wifi signal in the building, she'd be able to learn after a certain amount of practice.
Movement from her left caught her eye as Big Awesome and Well Named Keith (tm) gestured towards the table that was being set up by the waiter, and a flourish of curtain caught her eye yet again. It was a woman, tall as all get out, probably made even taller by the heels that she wore. She tore her gaze away to look into the corners to search for cameras, or any sort of device that would actually record her, cause suddenly, it seemed like a horrible idea to be seen in a place like this and associated with these sorts of people.
These sorts of people as in, they actually look the part of shady while she carried the look of a college student. In fact, she felt like she was being interviewed for a pot at a stripper pole that may or may not be built soon. She'd do anything for money, but she won't do that. Thoughts were soon alleviated due to the comment that Selina gives her; one brow shoots up and a tilt of her head coupled with a shrug of her shoulders towards herself in a never mind fashion. It wasn't that kind of business, she says. We'll take her word for it.
"Alright then." She says cheerily, following behind the lady as she thought she was supposed to, hands tucked deep into her pockets and head hung low yet aimed towards the table to glimpse and remember faces. And cards. If she had enough nerves about her, she'd get in on the game to take home some burger money.
Remy's talented hands deal this time, cards are skipped from hand to hand and fanned out before tossed to each person at the table, his eyes drift towards Rant as she passes by giving her a one fingertip nod of acknowledgement before his attentions shift back towards his opponents at the poker table.
More than a little curious what his new /friend/ could be up to.

Selina is tall, but when you are fighting the scales of likely being able to collect disability for being a midget, one might find her tall. Sliding into the booth once the waiters depart a bottle of wine is pulled from a clear crystal bowl of ice, a platter in front of them offering an array of sushi with small Asian dishes bearing finely painted decor upon them. Authentic, but of course.

Selina moves with deliberate gestures, ones of refined training - apparently someone was put in etiquette schooling. The small dishes arranges for sauces and wasabi turned on the table to pick and pour her own, all the while her gaze awaits Rant to settle in and business to begin.

Remy is given a glance, though her words could not be heard through that distance she speaks. He is welcome to join, all things considered. One game fr another.

"You have a resume that is impressive, and one that fills several holes that need filling. I pay fairly, but the more you make me, the more you get - and that could be very…" One hand holding chop sticks gestures out to the club. "Bountiful."

That fingertip nod or whatever it was, Melody totally didn't get it. She was tempted to stop and wait but Selina was already in the booth, so Mel went ahead and joined her. It took her a bit to get comfortable really. She was dressed so out of place for a meeting of this caliber, she thought about swallowing her clothing and spitting out a new look just to compete. But no, there really was no need, cause there was food to be had and Melody would be busting at the seams after she had eaten, after all.
As the impressive array of food were laid out presentation style, Melody focused on the task at hand. A separation of the self to dip into her data connected cell phone, to spread her psyche across the networks to search the building of listening devices connected to outside sources, and more importantly, cameras that would be used to keep the building safe and watched. She wouldn't distort the image completely as she normally would just by walking the streets of New York, she'd just rearrange the pixels so that her image would show up distorted, leaving the rest untouched. And while she was at it, she checked the lottery numbers, just cause. You never know, really.
"It honestly depends on what you need done." Melody finally said after a moment of distracted silence. "If something falls out of the scope of my ability, I won't bother trying to find a way to make it work. That's where people fuck up. By trying. If I can do it, you betcha I will. If I can't, screw finding a way. Finding a way gets you into a bigger mess than admitting the truth." In her book. Melody could go on and on about her little philosophies of life, which is why they call her Rant in the first place. But, that's something for the cats and dogs to croon and bark about. Not for a meeting.
She doesn't go for chop sticks, as she said before, trying gets messy. So she gestures around for at least a bit of hand sanitizer that she could use to disinfect before she gets down to grubbing. "I don't care about legalities. I can scrub myself and anyone else three times over, long as no one gets caught in the act." Finding none, she decides to just take one that she would eat without touching anything else, avoiding the wasabi and other dipped sauces to eat it plain jane. "Something like this requires a certain ruleset, I'm sure you have a few in mind?" This was said after chewing, chewing and speaking at the same time is just darn rude.
"Scrub? Dis sounds like a much better conversation." Remy's voice carries from behind their booth as he settles in, his hands empty and his wallet that much lighter but the company was lacking and he didn't feel like making enemies in Gotham just yet. That is bound to happen on it's own. Besides he likes the Tin Roof Club, it has an appeal to it that reminds him a bit of New Orleans. Why burn bridges with the patrons already?
"Hope you don't mind if I intrude. I figure I dun los' enou money already." Tall, his button up black shirt hugs to his lithe yet muscular frame and shows off broad shoulders, that attractive smile that seems to persist upon his lips worn naturally. Almost too easily. One can't much tell how genuine it is or not without being able to see his eyes or the crinkle at the corners. The glasses he wears even indoors cover those up.

Tin Roof is bugged, camera riddled and surveyed by the human eye, but it all is to benefit Selina - years have given her enough of a heads up to know who is who and the security detail allowed for nothing outside that they could not trace back… And eliminate.

"Good, honesty is the first step. At least with me, anyone else you can tell fallacies to and I couldn't care the less, unless it lost us money." /Us/, cute already, though in saying that one corner of her lips barely curls upward.

Remy taking a seat does not stop her, in fact she gestures to the food and commences eating, then speaking, as if nothing had changed a beat.

I need you to Fence for me, also in that perhaps find me things to bring to you I may have missed. Also, I may need… repairs… here and there." Enough is said right there, but not enough to give everything away.

Glancing to Remy she smiles lightly. "And I thought you had your game down with cards. Tsk."

Now looking back towards Rant she tilts her head. "You come highly recommended from my sources, your pay will differ from others here due to your… Other uses, and of course, if you find us something worth far more, you get far more."

With another sushi taken, it was popped into her mouth and chewed, yet.. she stops as soon as Remy settles in. She thought that he was just a random customer, one of the people who were out there to spend money and lose it all in the same go. Her head shakes as she covers her mouth in case there was food there, because he was cute to her. Super cute. Okay, handsome is the grown up term but cute fit right well, though odd. His eyes were covered, she didn't want to make assumptions though as to why he'd appear to look like one of those movie star douches, though.
"I don't mind.." She finally says, chewing all of her food up and swallowing it, allowing her hand to rest upon the table as she visibly tenses. She didn't even sign a contract yet, and there was talks of Us as if she had agreed to it, though.. she possibly has just by sitting down and 'breaking bread'. "Fencing I can do. Repairs my bread and butter." She nods firmly at that, but the finding one? She wasn't going to comment just yet. Payment out of the way which makes her more inclined to actually join up, she had to lay down some of her own ground rules, of course.
"I like that. But before I even agree to this completely, sign off on it if you will, I have a few rules too. I can't go with you to do your business. I'm somewhat equipped for it, but I rather not risk it. I can't lift a finger to do battle with another person, especially close quarters. As I said before, I don't lie. With that said I can't burst a grape in a fruit fight. Secondly, I'm a behind the scenes type of person. No one should ever know what I look like aside from those sitting at this table. I've had too many instances where strangers would approach me because they seen me take something from some random 'Kuza and expect me to do them favors." She couldn't think of anything else, but she thinks she made her points clear. Support only, if she had to get into action, she'd flip out and complain until she's killed for it. "Other than that, I'm Melody. But you can call me Rant if I irritate you enough."

Shifting in her seat, one leg crosses over the other and she listens as Rant speaks her own rules. One hand rises as an elbow props upon the table, her lean forward brings that curve of cheek to rest upon the heel of her palm, those jade chop sticks still held with a light attuned grasp.

"You're a fence, I don't expect you out there, especially with all of your… Abilities. I have more use for you here, hidden behind the velvet curtain like my own personal Oz."

A shifting glance to Remy once more as he remains silent despite Rant's scrutiny, offering a loose shrug in the rise and fall of one bare shoulder. "We all tend to prefer our secrecy in this line of business, for many reasons, it'd be unprofessional of me to expect different from you…."

Cut off by a look up and across the expanse of her Lounge, one of her other thugs is making a gesture with a simple flick of his wrist, to which she simply nods. "I have to go for now, but make yourself at home, Melody."

Sliding to a stand she pauses and glance back a Remy. "Behave." One word can speak -worlds- on the man, though she said it with a small grin before she disappeared behind the curtain.

"Oh dis is much more excitin' then de poker table." Remy grins at the two women, "All clandestine, cloak n' dagger talk, non?" His head cants as he levels a scrutinizing gaze upon Melody, "A lovely name, petite Melody." A fingertip taps the rim of his glasses and he winks, though the action is largely obscured, "She meant to mis-behave of course, I shall go order you my own special drink. You will like it. Everyone likes Remy's drinks I pick the good ones." His name given in there, obviously the scoundrel has full intentions of making Rant feel right at home here in Selena's den of thieves. "Come, let us go make the misere."
A feline worthy stretch accompanied by a smooth stand to his feet and the mutant waves his new drinking companion on, "All this talk of fighting and work has me thirsty."

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