Description: Felicia returns to Stray to tell him what's what, and take her cut after the botched data delivery.
Stray has arranged himself a nice little operation in Metro City, despite a number of minor setbacks. Some of these, he is positive are resistance elements in Metro City Police. Others, are international monitors. But one mystery continues to represent a question in his mind. How are the occasional movements of his forces, with such valuable data or capital that nobody else could hear of, being disrupted? He is analyzing this quietly, not giving himself any chronological constraints or paranoid considerations of imminent destruction. His fortress is strong, it is just a matter of the weakness showing itself. There are several possibilities.
It could be one of his lieutenants. It could be a mercenary or high level enforcer that is a plant, or has been turned to another cause. It could be one of his international partners. It could be Belger, or Retsu. It could even be Black, intending on forcing his soldiers into battle by breaching their position, for something Mikhail is loath to consider. Stray wonders, could the entire operation be a Russian intelligence operation, instead of an alliance between Bratsvas and Commander Black's oil magnate patron? That means, Stray is doomed to die here. But Stray has one little ace up his hole.
He is not just a chessmaster, or street fighter, or even a computer programmer. He is a cat. And they always land on their feet.
Stray waits in a warehouse near his base of command, with the Persian mercenary bodyguard he has hired near him, smoking a cigarette and reclining in dim light, watching the setting sun out across the cityscape. Stray stands with his back to the Vulture, his hands behind his back as if he's attention, the warehouse's sliding door ratcheted open and leaving the abandoned building open to the grass tangled parking lot beyond.
Felicia arrives. She's wearing the usual large overcoat to disguise her more darkstarker-y features, wearing what looks like a pair of white and pink oversized platform boots (or at least, the size she needs them to be to be comfortable) under it. Her long white tail is likely visible beneath the hem of the coat as she walks closer to the warehouse. She figured Stray would be holed up somewhere like this. She had come to give him the bad news.
"I'm here to see Stray," she would announce, if stopped by any of his underlings, otherwise she'd proceed right on in and try to find Stray himself, her boots thumping beneath her.
"Stray--honey, we need to talk," she begins, sounding amicable enough, but...
Stray's underlings, a trio of men in cheap black suits with gold ties, part and allow Felicia access, one of them waving his hand. Stray stands directly before her as she enters the warehouse, frowning. He is well aware that their data package was nearly taken by the police. He lost several good men in the operation, and they gave up other good men and operations. As to who gave the tipoff, he isn't quite sure. Felicia is the only one to escape unscathed. He wishes to know exactly what she say. But he keeps himself reserved, merely loosening his grip behind himself and letting his posture relax.
"Then talk," Stray replies, slightly hostile but otherwise neutral, clearly displeased, but not at her, the tone not meant to lance into her, merely establish that this is a discussion about serious business.
"I didn't lose your shit, but a bunch of people almost got gunned down by overzealous cops, I'm not happy," she'd toss the package or whatever she was supposed to bring with her to Stray's contact on the table. "I am not sure I want to do that kind of skeevy work anymore, at least not out in public," she explains, moving to sit down across from him.
"Are we square on this?" she asked, apparently not phased by his hostile sounding tone. She /did/ fuck up, and a bunch of his men were shot by police. There was that.
The Vulture's hand snaps out to catch the package, as if it was nothing, and merely sets it down on the table. He draws in another mouthful of his cigarette, nonplussed.
"We are square, I do not make you do anything you do not want. You have bargaining position," Stray says simple, turning about to follow her as she sits at the table. "What I need to know is, what did you see. I have a literal blind spot on the operation, besides what you witnessed. I am prepared to offer you a bonus, if you can remember what happened. And for your trouble, of course."
"Well, I didn't get the package to who you wanted, but I also didn't lose it, so I'll just take whatever I was owed--and that will be that, until you figure out something you can use me for that doesn't involve cops, and guns, and people nearly getting caught in the crossfire," Felicia sighs.
"They were crazy and were trying to shoot me, I know I'm a darkstalker and all, but," she shrugs. "What happened? I went up to the ship and police rolled up, people scattered, there was a lot of shouting, and shooting," she shook her head.
"I am not sure what information I can provide past that is any good," she leaned back a bit, not being too playful this time--in truth the ordeal had taken the playful out the cat.
Vulture slowly exhales a cloud of smoke, upwards, not looking at Felicia.
"What types of police?" Stray asks, pointedly.
"They looked like SWAT, pretty sure there was those guys with them," Felicia does remember that much, they weren't really screwing around. "They were in vests and all that, and they had guns, that's pretty much all I can remmeber," she shook her head, though she sat up straighter in the chair now, her tail lilting out behind her through the wings of the chair.
Stray lowers his head as he lifts his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sting," he hisses. "It's true, then. We've been breached." Stray turns about, his hands returning behind him, looking off into the empty darkness of the yawning warehouse cavern. "If you aren't willing to deal with cops and guns, then you aren't of much use to me, Felicia. This is a highly sensitive operation, in enemy territory, with a possibility of incarceration. There is a stake of profit in it for everyone, but that requires investment." He looks sidelong at Felicia, turning his chin to face her diagonally. "Perhaps you would be better off working in a field with a different motive for joining ranks."
"Eh, getting put in jail I can deal with," Felicia doesn't elaborate on /how/ of course, that's her secret. "But I agree, I don't know if this is the kind of work for me. I'll think it over and talk to you again, perhaps, how about?" Felicia moved to get back to her booted feet, making sure her tail didn't get caught in the rungs of the chair as she pulled herself up. That insanely large mane of electric-blue hair of hers puffed out from the collar of the jacket she wore. She really needed to figure out a way to tone it down. Maybe a cut was in order...?
Stray waves a hand. "Of course." He speaks, in Russian, to someone in the darkness, before a manila envelope is brought to him by a woman in grey combat fatigues with orange punk-styled hair. He takes it, and turns about, offering it to Felicia with a perfunctory prompt downward jab. "There is your payment, Miss Felicia. When you need another job - and you will - feel free to look to me for this job. You have proven your value, although you may not realize it yet. We were not all meant to live boring lives in a factory, after all." His mouth slowly parts into a grin, his teeth faintly yellow from smoking.
Felicia takes the envelope, stuffing it into her jacket. She's not morally 'above' taking money it seems, even if she did nearly get people hurt--or was that Stray's fault? she's still trying to decide what is what there. "I understand, I'll talk to you gentleman later," she gets up, turning to the men in blck suits and giving them a smile, before she turns to head out, her long white tail flicking behind her as she walked. Had she been... anxious? She might have wanted to start something with Stray, but the men in suits around could have dissuaded her. Or maybe she just didn't have the taste for violence or vengeance. She was gonna go with that.
Log created on 18:30:49 04/21/2017 by Felicia, and last modified on 20:42:27 04/21/2017.