Bonjour

Summary:
Sept 30 2014: A little heist leads to a testy alliance.

Gotham Fashion District

A high end Fashion show of jewelry and new fashion releases.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


An event perfect for the fashion district, as the sun goes down the large emporium opens its velvet lined doors to permit other designers in to either marvel at the newest designs or try and show prevalent designers their own fashion patterns and templates to elbow rub into the same level of renown. This is to go on for 3 days, the final day the auction, which Catwoman needs to arrive before because her prize is a set of rings forged of white gold and inset along the hooked curvature is black diamonds. So much more within these walls to peruse and likely desire, but this is a personal indulgence which she is going to gather first, the rest will be 'extra'.

Security here is nothing all too high, but enough so that they have several guards, laser tracers set to seeping the vicinity and the windows are all locked with hair-trigger alarms.

Scaling the side of the building Catwoman moves like the breath of a shadow that it takes as a spotlight sweeps by, untouching and scattering of the darkness. Sleek, silent, her body pulls up to a windows ledge, not touching the pane as she perches precariously on it, teetering on the edge while she withdraws a mechanism from her tac belt and begins the scanning process…

Fantomex has his sights on those rings too. They are exotic. Shinny. And they are behind enough security that they are just daring him to go and get them. He can't resist a dare, sacre bleu!

Now, there are many ways he could do this. The guards would be easy to misdirect. Would he ever do something the easy way… no, of course not. Instead he climbed the wall of the building, picking the hardest side (not Selina's) and dissembled the alarm in the skylight, cut the glass and… that is how Catwoman spots him. Hanging upside down from the ceiling, a harness around his chest, studying the pattern of invisible (not for him) infrared lasers to see how to get through.

Alarm disarmed, the frame of the window clicks just as her palm hits the pane and gloved fingers splay, tips curling only to glean the silver tips of claws. Burrows cut into the glass as her wrist riotates and the circle is cut precisely, glass pulled out towards herself and set aside so she can step through once opening the window. Standing there her goggles flick in hue, the vision altered enough to see those lines, tracing them across the open spanse of the display room to…

Spot Fantomex…. Not only no, but hell no! One moment she is perched on the inner ledge, the next she is climbing along the walls, tapestries threads tearing as the claws and 'hooks' in her boots anchor her to the sides, watching him and calculating before the whip is drawn from around her waist.

A hiss of leather on leather as it falls to dangle just above a thin line of red, snapping back up in a yo-yo'd motion of her wrist, snapping out in attempt to twine around his harness ropes, using his own contraption to bring her near, in fact to land upon the rope just above him with an agile running leap that will have them swinging precariously over the floor like a pendulum.

Fantomex uh ohs when he hears the whip cutting the air. Nothing he can do about it, but at least it is not a security guard. That would be too embarrassing. "Bonjour," he greets as she leaps to grab his lifeline. He is also reaching for a handgun, but changes his mind. Those are not silenced; they would draw too much attention. The thief in white turns his body gracefully to watch what the woman is doing, why does she want his rope… oh, wait. No, she wouldn't. Of course she would.

Mastery of body language, he decides to avoid uncontrolled falls and frees himself at the further arch of the pendulum. He backflips, twists his body like a crazy contortionist to avoid the lasers, and lands on the floor (with a flourish)… immediately falling to a crouch to avoid the shifting beams.

The rope is captured easily, her whip unraveling like a serpent from the twined hold, wrapped in one gloved hand while the other keeps her to the rope. Her landing has her facing down at him from his life line, feet above her head and one ankle curled in the nylon rope to keep her balanced in that very feline stretch that has her body suspended and splayed above him in a stalk. His own reflection shows back to him in the lenses of the goggles, lips splitting into a smile at his greeting just before he does a graceful disembarking of the line.

"Audace." Catwomans voice purrs out in French response to him as her body bends, like a golden acrobat the motion starts at the hooked in booted foot, swinging in opposite direction of the way her torso moved, arching her into a beautifully bent pose, fingers unraveling that whip to lash it outward, a light crack…

The rafter is hooked and twined, her swing becoming more deft, more wide and from the rope to the whip her body transitions like a ribbon dancer, sliding downward in a swing that rolls her down the leather length in a dance to the silence.

All the while she is calculating, the fire of lights, the alternate of sensors and the red thin beams she swings wide and comes around in a low arch just in time to practically swan dive down into the space below, landing just between this masked stranger and the glass case.

"I hope you have exquisite tastes, monsieur - but not /my/ tastes." Catwoman says as she slowly starts stepping back for the case of very unique claws.

Fantomex smiles behind his mask, bowing to the woman when she manages to land between him and his price. "Ah, ah… looks like maybe we do have a coincidence of… good taste. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Fantomex." He looks up and jumps again. Standing jump and jet he almost flies over Catwoman, and the case, landing at the other side. Again, he avoids all the lasers. "I do heartily hope, mademoiselle, these jewels are not of great importance to you."

Lowering as he vaults over her, Catwoman's crouch is one that easily slips into a predators stalk, hand before hand, booted feet pushing forward and then, hips pivot, a roll that puts her to her back where heels plant and slide her across the floor beneath a web if lines just before they power off and shift. Only a heartbeat to leap as well, landing just beside Fantomex.

Her back is to his side though, her gaze sliding over her shoulder to him as one hand rises, and the finger wiggling wave is emphasized by the show of claws with every bending flux. "I think they suit me far more then they do you. They'll match /sooo/ much." As she states that she ivots, as if in a dance with him, shifting to step in time with the pulse of the sensor beams, the cartwheel twisting and rounding out into a silent flip that has her almost within reach of the case.

"A girl has to have her vices. Don't tell me beneath it all, you're a woman of the same divine tastes." She inquires with a rise and fall of blue eyes upon him.

"Ah, but dear old mother would love them too," replies Fantomex, sliding back slightly to avoid a sensor beam. Economic with his movements as he works in a little hacking with EVA and a secondary brain.

"My dear mysterious feline lady," he adds. "This is but my first visit to Gotham. Surely you won't deny me my price. I would promise to have the same courtesy to you if you ever come to Paris."

"Ne pas me refuser…." Catwoman says as those lasers timing pulse, their timed path not following a direct pattern that is continually predictable.

Time.

Change.

Seeing one nearing she reaches back now, both hands placing on Fantomex's shoulders if he does not move, using him as the boost to flip her up and over, her landing taking her to the opposing side of the display case, staring through the thick glass at him with it placed between them, the white gold intricately inlaid with those black diamonds, a display of vice alone - based off what recent superstars have been seen wearing and hand cut to a perfection. One of a kind.

The way her stance was told of where those lines had shifted to, one foot planted forward, the other to the side, a side lunge crouch, though her hand reaches up now when time allows, gripping the hilt of her whip and pulling it back to her, the coils falling neatly around gloved palm.

"…because I can show you sooo much /more/ Gotham offers." The smile following those words unreadable, but the mind can wander.

Fantomex doesn't move an inch, because he appreciates so much the sight of a woman able to do that. He can't deny that. And the offer… "magnifique, and you know how to tempt a man," he comments with an approving tone.

Then the laser grid blinks out. In fact, all the lights blink out. Somewhere the security guards will be panicking, but they still have a few minutes. And no alarms to worry about. It is quite dark, however.

"I will accept your offer, but… should I trust you?" His voice no longer comes from the same place. Fantomex is playing, and doing some misdirectioning. "Perhaps we should leave this bauble here and come back in a few days."

All of the lights? Catwoman blinks and her goggle lenses flicker a green, adapting to the night vision, glancing for the voice in the surrounding darkness that echoes like a sweet insanity to her. She does not stop however, her hands splaying, clawed fingertips now pressed upon that pane of glass, a flash of a cheshire grin as she stares upon her shining prize…

"Je ne vais pas vous refuser…" Those tones are whisper-purred forth, her hands upon the glass now tapping out a beat like candied raindrops upon the surface just before that ear piercing screech sounds forth, tearing almost invisible slits into the glass with one harsh swipe.

"..But I will have what I want and then I will show you."

Also a woman of no patience. Go figure.

Fantomex chuckles. "Alors…" he begins, "…looks like you want it more than I do, ma belle." He refuses to leave empty handed, so while Catwoman cuts the glass and steals the jewelry, he will steal her whip. In truth, she will barely feel his hand on her hip for an instant. "I'll wait for you, hmm?" He heads up, for the roof, spreading confusion along his path so the security guards become weirdly lost and tend to end up in the same closet again and again.

The criss crossing patterns Catwoman marks across the glass with her claws only show the cracked refraction from the flicker of a security gurads flashlight before he suddenly seems lost and turns away. Her lips twist and a brow rises in thought, but you will not catch catwoman complaining as her clawed fingertips start poking out those checkered inscribed holes…

One.

By.

One.

Pushing her luck and taking her time even as she feels that touch on her hip, a bare brush that has her unmoving, not even to shy from it, but what occurs has her feeling that familiar and comfortable weight lifted….

*Smash!* Playtime over Catwoman shoves her fist trough the intricately cut glass, shards falling around her hands that gather up the rings and shove them in her tac belt pocket to promptly swing around and pursue Fantomex up up…

Away, she flies across the floor in a run, hitting the velvet fabriced walls and scaling upward…
Shift pages: Bleh. I am fucking bored. Want to fuck shit up?
Up to the roof? There is a weird device there, the size of a small truck, an opalescent sphere inlaid in a ring of brass and copper about a yard wide. It stands on metal legs of pale green-grey metal, like a huge, gleaming Faberge egg.

"Your carriage awaits, mademoiselle," greets Fantomex, standing on the ring around the sphere. "This is EVA, my partner."

Reaching the roof Catwoman appears over the ledge like an oozing shadow, perched there for a moment, the backdrop the ever fitting Diamond District, and she got what she came for… Diamonds - encrusted in claws. Perfect. The thought should make her smile but she was lifted of something very important to her and her features show a stoicism that spreads no glee or celebration. Slipping from the ledge booted feet touch the paved surface of the roof and slowly approach Fantomex as well as his odd 'partner', encircling him in a wide berth before closing in.

"Odd choice of partners, but whatever floats your…" Eye scan from toe to head.. "..boat."

Pause.

"Where's my whip? I prefer to keep my travels… Outside of odd transport that resembles alien craft." Now her gaze slides to EVA, blue eyes lacking of trust and full of wariness. Cramped spaces… Ew.

Said boat shift an inch when Catwoman glares at 'her'. Fantomex sighs, "you wound us, EVA is as earthly as me," he notes. "We can ride outside, I suppose," he hops to the top of the sphere. "Better view, at the cost of reduced speed. But Gotham is only so large."

Oh, her whip? He seems to consider the matter idly, and then he gestures the woman to come.

Catwoman is apprehensive, the thin draw of lips shows as much, even as her upper lip recoils to flash teeth with a sharp hissing inhale. Ears would be lain back right about now… But he has her whip and is seemingly holding her 'precious' ransom.

"Whatever you say mon ravisseur." She states as she passes him, casting a sidelong glare his way just before she climbs atop EVA with ease. "And here I thought I was to show you. Not vice versa." Her hand rises in a waffling gesture just before she begins looking for the bes way to anchor…

Hate.

"I have not, ah… abducted you… yet," replies Fantomex, taking her hand lightly, and kissing it as she climbs on. "And I provide the ride, but you provide the itineraire, oui?" EVA takes off slowly, barely buzzing under their feet. Despite the man in white claims it definitely looks like an alien thing, maybe a flying saucer.

At the /yet/ Catwoman slides him a look that could be taken as wilting, none the less she sprawls languidly across the top of EVA, resting on her abdomen with one knee bent and foot towards the heavens, waving back and forth like a slow moving pendulum. Though one hand folds across the front of her torso to prop her upwards, -both- are upon EVA, the sliver of metal claws can be seen, in case she needs to grip from a fall - if it would do her any good at all.

"French and such a gentleman… I know better already. Go north… EVA. We have a city to see from above." But below is where the pickings were best.
Fantomex completely ignores the wilting glance, and behaves as if Catwoman was a happy about the whole trip, on top of the flying saucer, without parachute (although the ring bordering the sphere seems pretty solid).

"Northwards, partner," he says happily, sitting down at the woman's side, "and keeps us in stealth mode." Unnecessary chatter, as he keeps mental contact with the technorganic device. But the theater is for Catwoman. Perhaps she would believe there is someone piloting the aircraft. He gets his amusement where he can.

Riding north they passed over Midtown - The harbor of the 'Italian' side of crime, Robinson Park, Little Italy - the place getting little regard from Catwoman, she did not 'approve' and in fact had a rivalry with this part of Gotham, if not all parts dependent on the day.

Over a river and that is where the lights of East End began with the docks, the factories and storage units…. And the lights took on a red tinge, if not in actuality, but in the scene. Women, they patrolled the streets as if it were their very own 'Sin City' and here - they veritably /could/, their backer and benefactor was well known…

And right now invisibly floating above them on an ET saucer named EVA.

The goggle lenses went rapidly over the green, red, yellow, then clear, revealing that azure gaze and the small smile playing over her lips as she watched along the streets. It might be poverty stricken, and seen as /criminal/ but it is -hers.-

"Stop." The word spoken softly as they come to the front of a building right off the western tip of the docks where one solitary club takes the forefront, velvet ropes wound out front as the line already forms for the night festivities.

"You can call me Catwoman, by the way."

EVA stops and slowly flies down, while Fantomex rummages with a compartment on the sphere. It wasn't there a minute ago, it was too smooth. "Excellent, just what I was looking for…" pause, "you lair in a club… no, you own it. "And here I was looking for a suitable drink to celebrate our fortuitous meeting." He stands up, but keeps the bottle. Because American wines… Sacre Bleu. Then he jumps down.

"I own a lot. Possession is 9/10ths of the law." Sliding down from the saucer it was a moment much akin to melting wax flowing down the sloped side of a wine glass. Catwoman's feet touch down and she moves forward, pausing to look back, over the black clad slope of her shoulder with those lips quirking in Fantomex's direction. "Welcome to East End. It's mine. This is my home, I am sure your… tastes… Will be met here."

At that the smile spreads and she awaits him to walk in at her side, the bouncers already unlatching a rope at their approach, the door to the side of the main entry propped open by a large man lovingly named Keith by her fence, Rant. Stepping inside the music has already started, the lights skating like security lazers across the dance floor that is illuminated from beneath, and above… One girl per cage that dangle from the ceiling by chains.

"Care to make a /pari/?" The final word purred to Fantomex as she approaches the Diamond bar and plucks two wine glasses from the hanging rack, holding one out for him with the stem clasped between two fingers.

Fantomex follows the black-clad woman sparing only a glance to EVA, which seems to merge with the night as soon as she rises a few yards over the ground. Inside the club he seems to manage to avoid drawing attention despite his unusual attire. But maybe it is that everyone is looking at Selina.

But no, there is definitely something that the bouncers and patrons can't see about Fantomex. The lack of curiosity or reactions (he is visibly armed!) is unnatural.

But Catwoman can see him, of course (or can she?) and he slides to her side to fill the glasses with champagne before taking one. "I love a good gamble. What's do you have in mind?"

It did not truly matter. He could be in here in a clown suit, penguin suit, or bat suit…. Literally and figuratively, and he would no get looked at more then twice. Once a scan for weapons, another for a scan of net worth because the club takes 'taxes'.

Leaving the bar she heads to the 'quieter' side of the club, not the bar or the dancefloor here, opposite side of the stage of 'performers' it is tables and boots set for gambling and privacy, the ones running along the wall bearing ceilings and drapery drawn doors at the outer sides, crescent shaped cushioned seats within.

Sipping her glass she slides into one of the booths, a tray in the center of the table pressed and with a light hiss the center rises up and out bearing a hookah, beneath in a nook cards, chips, dice and 'bones'.

From within her tac belt Catwoman places on those claws, one by one, those goggles pulled up to rest atop her head.

"You can have anything from here you desire. Girls, gambling, booze. Everything gets left in tact." Selina states matter of factly as she reclines back much like a pleased feline.

It did not truly matter. He could be in here in a clown suit, penguin suit, or bat suit…. Literally and figuratively, and he would no get looked at more then twice. Once a scan for weapons, another for a scan of net worth because the club takes 'taxes'.

Leaving the bar she heads to the 'quieter' side of the club, not the bar or the dancefloor here, opposite side of the stage of 'performers' it is tables and boots set for gambling and privacy, the ones running along the wall bearing ceilings and drapery drawn doors at the outer sides, crescent shaped cushioned seats within.

Sipping her glass she slides into one of the booths, a tray in the center of the table pressed and with a light hiss the center rises up and out bearing a hookah, beneath in a nook cards, chips, dice and 'bones'.

From within her tac belt Catwoman places on those claws, one by one, those goggles pulled up to rest atop her head.

"You can have anything from here you desire. Girls, gambling, booze. Everything gets left in tact." Selina states matter of factly as she reclines back much like a pleased feline.

"You are generous with strangers," compliments Fantomex. "But I am a thief, I usually overstay my welcome quickly," he admits nonchalant. He also tends to draw bad companies with heavy firepower and a dislike for living witnesses, but he doesn't know Selina enough to admit that yet.

"I will be a gracious guest for a night, you seem the kind of woman that deserves a special effort, non? Catwoman, the name is vaguely familiar," he comments. "The feats of the costumed adventurers of America sometimes reach the news reports of the Old World."

"I'm generous with strangers of my ilk. I have nothing here you can take that I wont miss or easily replace because honestly, nothing here can be taken from me when there are plenty of others that you can take from that will gladly see you on that and raise you…" Both brows went up at that and she sipped the champagne, lips barely touching the rim though a please sound escapes before she lets the glass rest in her lap, a cradle formed as she pulls her feet up into that booth and completes the lax position.

"Though, I do want my whip back and I will do whatever is necessary to obtain it." Saying as much Catwomans fingers flex and curl, her weaponized claws coming out beneath the diamond studded ones, though, those are what is on display before her appraising gaze, one that comes with an easy smile.

"And who might you be matre du disguise?"
"I am Fantomex, naturellement," he had introduced himself early on, but does so again, with a slight bow. Or maybe Catwoman would expect a real name. "Jean-Philippe for my friends," he takes a seat. "You have a refreshing attitude towards life, I do heartly hope we can be friends, or at the very least, very friendly rivals." He partially lifts his mask to sip from his glass and gestures dramatically, showing Selina the whip was on the table all the time. Or was it? There is the strong impression it was, but maybe she wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

Catwoman wanted the name under other circumstances, new circumstances, though she would not give him /her/ name, not yet. "You can call me Irena Dubrovna, Madame Leonne… Catwoman. I have many names.." Raising the glass to him after saying as much those bubbles in the champagne should have been diamons, it would only seem fitting when it came to her lips and filterd upward towards them when she finished the flute in a few slow swallows.

Under any circumstance that is normal she would not have missed the whip, so when it just suddenly 'appears' a brow raises and she stares deadpan at Jean-Phillipe, leaning forward to grab it and slide it back to her to coil it on her hip like a pet serpent. "Friendly rivals is always where it ends up between me and…everyone. What are you playing at?" As if to emphasise the question she flicks the multi-tipped end of her disappearing/reappearing whip. "You a mage too?"
"Just a little misdirection here and there," replies the man in white with a cocky grin. "As for my purpose and goals, I am merely an adventurer and a thief that seeks but freedom and beauty. A man of simple desires, in truth. I am doing a little traveling, as even Paris can become tedious after a few years."

"Catwoman. That name rings the true-er from all you offered to me," he decides.

"That explains…." The little whisps of the whip snapping back and forth end in a light patter across the sleek fit of black attire over her thigh. Catwoman's words are low as she says that, those eyes looking down to her glass and then back up to him, synthetic fabric moaning as she rolls from her sides repose to all fours, clearing the small space between herself and Fantomex to lean in and whisper lowly to him.

"Just a little misdirection between very friendly rivals." Slowly she slinks back and away from him towards the drape framed entry to the booth, fingers snapping and a girl cming to each side of the drapes dressed in the strings that seem to be tugged upon by the feline mistress. "Call me what you like /fantome/, just don't call me unfulfilling in my promises." One step back and those girls head for him, crawling across the booths seating and table with smiles of play upon lips.
Fantomex chuckles. Yes, he is sure Catwoman can be very distracting, and he is happy to be distracted… wait. As the woman heads out, he looks thoughtful. But when the two girls arrive, he uh huhs. "je suis desole…" he whispers to the ladies, slipping out of their reach and following Selina. "That is not what I want, mademoiselle."


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