Description: CUTSCENE: Felicia reflects on her accomplishments and past, and learns of more of her kind out there...
Permits, permits, permits. Felicia had thought it was a titanic struggle getting papers like a birth certificate before, heck, even a state ID card--but she had not been prepared in the endless papertrail that getting things like certification, inspections, zoning... it was a huge pain in the neck. Not unlike some vampires she knew, she muttered idly to herself as she got up from the sofa she'd setup in her new 'personal' training room.
It was filled with weight machines, punching bags, stands with targets to 'punch' against, plus huge wall panel-sized TVs, stereo system... The support beams on either side of her were covered with polyethylene foam, zip-ties running all around, making them soft and padded. Of course, the small raised stages here and there were evidence of the 2 story chamber's previous use as a nightclub, with the brass poles, and whatnot. Those came in useful in various athletic techniques, to be sure. Beyond this chamber lay the elaborate (and expensive) 'Ninja Warrior' style obstacle course that had already been setup, platforms set on mechanical arms rose up from either side of a large pit to triangle kick across, followed by a ramp the runner would have to scale or run up, continuing on from there to various suspended dummy's and bangs, incorporating fighting and martial arts drills into it.
She'd gotten a good deal on a lot of that equipment too, what with the producers wanting to offload some of their older stuff--again, it paid to have friends in entertainment. The building directly next door was an old casino that had been annexed to this one, though it wasn't done yet--once she got the necessary permits, the towering structure would be a Casino and Hotel resort, sporting bars, stripclubs, lounges, and eventually, hopefully--her own televised fighting and gameshow events--she hadn't sold license of herself for nothing, after all. She was going to make her own games and events here, if everything went well--the casino feeding into building up the rising empire known as Felicia. And of course, the orphanage project.
Splitting an orange with her claws, she bit into it, setting half the rest of it down after swigging some water and heading off towards the punching bag, the frame rattling as she assailed it with a few left and right punches--as well as a few kicks. Things were going great, comparatively to where she had been at a year or two ago, it felt like. She'd had some success on broadway, of course--which had partly been her dream, she had an agent, met many talent directors, and had gotten some useful 'fly on the wall' experience on how the gears of the business really ran. A far cry from when she had been working as an exotic dancer in clubs and hiding her cash behind a brick in an abandoned building.
But... why did part of her still feel oddly 'empty'?
Was it because she was back in Nevada, where the woman she knew as her only parent had kicked off quite a long time ago? The sight of the sunset and color of the sky still reminding her of long lonely days, wandering alone? The way the sun seemed to turn everything blood red? Was it that her roles in hollywood were limited to certain broadway productions and trying to get movie deals with skeazy producers that kept wanting to put her in exploitative, low-budget roles? Was it that the closest thing she'd ever had to a boyfriend had been a sociopathic rich asshole who tricked her, scrambled her brains to work for him and then ran off to hide in some man-whore house after Mishima had stolen his company?
Tears flicked from her eyes as the punching continued, getting harder, kicking and striking more furiously now, the chains holding the bag suspended rattling.
Sure, finding out what had happened to him from that creepy fuck with the white hair had been hilarious, but damnit she missed Lee. And she probably always would. Even if it was abusive, and toxic, and pretty much everything she'd been told to avoid. She dully thought if this was what battered girlfriends or housewives felt like when they kept going back to the same man who'd eventually wind up wringing their necks, like Adriana on that dumb mobster show. She'd met people who were connected in real life, not many of them acted like silly mafia stereotypes. And she wasn't getting her neck wrung like a chicken. She'd turned the tables and used Violet Systems to gain her identity back and place in society, though of course this had been a great unintentional outcome of working for them, well... That had been her 'big break'. She was a person, damnit--a real life flesh and blood being--
The sides of the punching bag had begun to rip and sand dribbled out, over the floor.
"Aw hell," she cursed, sighing and wiping the sweat off her brow. She needed to get more cardio and leg work in--and now she had to find the damn dirt devil. As she strode back to her sofa, she passed the small table set across from it, customized, of course--to her specifications, like most of the rest of the room. On the table next to the half-eaten orange and drink glasses and hookah was a stack of folded newspapers from yesterday, a headline catching her eye. It was not on the front page of the major local newspaper, this was more 'Weekly World News'.
'Half-human half-feline creature wandering Sunshine Heights?'
Beneath the headline was a blurry color photo of what looked like a small child, probably not older than 6 with long dark blue hair and wearing what looked like a white leotard and gloves and stockings, along with of course, a tail and cat ears. It was from the side and a bit from behind. It immediately reminded her of the cellphone footage of that tiger that rich weirdo had kept as a pet and had gotten out one day, taking a leisurely stroll down the lawns of the wealthy neighborhood he'd lived in one morning.
Log created on 22:32:22 08/05/2021 by Felicia, and last modified on 22:35:08 08/05/2021.