Description: Felicia meets Guy in Metro City!
It's late evening and there is a fight finishing up. Bystanders sit by to watch the fight--some are armed with cameras, drinks, one even has a hotdog--a few others are with their girlfriends making out. The fighting in the 'arena' itself is fairly brutal, but from the onlookers this is a very casual and routine sort of thing. A white cat is idly watching the last few blows--what looks like a tooth and a converse shoe comes flying out of the ring and nearly decks the cat--which takes off running and scatters into the crowd. All in all it seems to be a fairly normal evening--and the fight is finished. There is some clapping, but more murmuring about the 'flashy showoff' that had actually done most of the beating, less so for the knocked cold guy down there. That's just how it is in a place where fighting has become this entertwined with the city's culture.
Guy, of course, is present for the spectacle. If nothing else, it is good for him to keep an eye on the fighters that pass through Metro City. His city. More and more, with every passing day, the Bushin ninja becomes more territorial over this place. It may be his nature. It could be his mission to eradicate evil and injustice. Or it could be that he's latching on to Metro City as a means of coping with the tragedy that has befallen his native country, and so in turn, he's clinging to this other home more fiercely than before. Chances are that it's a combination of the three.
Now, he sits in the stands, surrounded by a small handful of others that wear the trademark red gi that he's famous for, trimmed in white and gold. His students. The ones he trains to create a better tomorrow for this city, and the world. He, however, is not in his traditional battle garb. Instead, he's taking a "casual" approach for the evening. A black turtleneck hugs his body snuggly, leaving little to the imagination of what his strong, top heavy physique is like. Over that, he wears a white jacket, and matching slacks with a crease so sharp down each leg that you could slice your finger on it. His face is passive, but stern, with razor sharp eyes of chocolate brown that seem to burn holes through anything that they fall upon. His brows are set low, crinkling just above his narrow, straight nose. His lips are pulled tight and down at the corners, into a perpetual frown. If not for the severity of his expression, he'd be handsome and boyish. As it stands now, he simply looks fierce and intimidating.
As Guy sits there--he might feel something brush against one of his legs. Is it a lady's foot? Lady Luck isn't quite on his side /that/ much tonight, what it is however, is a white short-haired cat! The coat is glossy and sleek--and she's rubbing her head and sides along his shins as she marches along the foot of the stands near his feet. While Guy might not be a 'cat fancier' it seems the cat in this case is fancying him! Or maybe it's just hungry and thinks he has food. One of the two! The cat is purring, and seems more or less content. There is that odd shock of blue hair or fur that hangs from it's forehead though--did some kid get cruel with a can of spraypaint or something similar?
As he feels something brush against his leg, Guy's eyes drift from the arena where the knocked out fighter is being dragged out to be taken in by his support team. That intense, soul piercing gaze falls upon... a cat? It seems as if the Bushin master might be attempting to practice some hitherto unknown Bushinryu death stare technique. Surely, she's covering him in fur, right? A kick may be in order.
But instead, Guy reaches down and lets his rough fingertips massage the cat's scalp, with his fingers pressing gently against her temples, and behind her ears. His nails draw down the length of her spine to the base of her tail where he scritches a little harder, and finally pats her flank a few solid times. "I don't have food, little kitten. You're in the wrong place to be begging."
The cat's purring is kicked into high gear as the man's calloused fingers press against her scalp and her ears flick over them. How as the man begins to pat down her spin however the hindquarters raise a bit--as a cat's is wont to do--as it receives the venerated scritchings that hit several nerves on the animal's back.
"Mmrrryooowww! Mrrrblrblrblr!" she starts making a yowling noise along with what sounds like an excited mumbling cross between a purr and yowl, apparently whatever he's doing back there, it's working!
"Morrrrbrblr!" it seemed whatever spasm the cat is going through it's suddenly made her freak a bit--and start to... glow white and blue? Uh oh. That's probably not a good sign.
"Yeeeow!" there is a flash and a surge of air--as suddenly there's the very humanoid figure of a muscular, amazon-like woman standing over Guy--she's got cat ears, sticking out a huge plume of blue hair--a white tail hanging down from behind her--and fur covering her arms and legs. Thankfully, she is wearing a violet system's spandex sports bra and bicycle shorts, however.
"Uhh.. hi!" she gave a sheepish grin, looking down at him.
When the cat starts making those funny sounds, Guy's frown turns upside down. Even his students, previously focused solely on the ring, and talking amongst themselves about the fight and what they'd have done differently, are now drawn to looking and laughing.
Then she starts to glow. And the laughter dies.
Never before has a section of an arena's stands been cleared of people so quickly. Red and white and gold blurs just seem to bleed away from every side until all that is left is the cat and the master. And as she begins to surge and grow into something humanoid, Guy suddenly leaps high into the air, his trajectory carrying him back a few rows.
When he lands? He's clad in an outfit suited for battle. A scarlet gi top, with white trim around the hem of the opening and collar, and black around the edges of the sleeveless holes, accented with light, cream colored leather accents, and straps over his shoulders, and his midsection wound with a black obi that circles around him too many times to count. Underneath that, a skin tight shirt of black wire mesh almost seems to bite into his bronzed flesh. His left arm, thick with densely corded muscle and sinew, is covered in an intricate grayshade tattoo of a very ornate dragon. His pants are red on the outside of each leg, white down the inside, and each sports a pair of thin, golden lines down the outside, before they're tucked into black wrappings around his ankles that disappear under a pair of red and white Nike Dunks.
He stands, perched precariously atop the back of one of the seats, and yet his balance seems so perfect that it's effortless. He has one hand raised in front of his face, his fore and middle fingers extended upwards to the heavens before his nose, almost as if in prayer, while the other hand makes a similar gesture pointing downward at his side. As his eyes focus on her, the clothing he had been wearing before comes drifting swiftly to the ground.
He looks wary, but he's not attacking. Not yet, at least. Still. Metro City has it's history with Darkstalkers. One look at the once beautiful park and you'll still see the scars of that. So, while Guy isn't going to attack any individual out of pure prejudice, he's got true cause for being alert and ready.
"What... what is your business here?"
Surely, this is going to cause a scene.
Likely Felicia's transformation had pushed someone back a bit in the stands--causing a little bit of a fracas--though she turned from the person she had bumped aside to look back at Guy--who was jumping into the air and suiting up in midair--Samus Aran-style! Whoops.
"Well, duh--honey, what did you expect, a Changing Breed?" Felicia sighs a little bit, shaking her head, reaching up to flick a stray shock of long blue hair out of her face. "I /was/ watching the fight, then I ran into you--and you got my uh, secret spot there--lets just ignore that--" she attempts to sit down, and a man sits there, stupefied--to which Felicia reeaaaches over, and plucks away the hotdog the man was holding, promptly chomping on it.
"Thaaank you," she gives the man a little wave, and he startles and finally beats feet. She then crosses her legs, the red pointy nails tipping each of her 5 glittering in the light as she flexed them here and there, cracking the knuckles on them.
"You really should calm down, at your age--you don't want to develop high blood pressure, or anything!
Guy just blinks at her when she mentions Changing Breeds.
As Felicia just sort of casually explains her presence, Guy remains silent, still in full on ninja pose mode. His shoulders look tense, but as she speaks, he does lower his fist, and relax his hands. Though, his frown returns fullf orce when she steals the man's hot dog.
A few hops down, nimbly leaping from seat to seat, and the Bushin warrior's sneaker clad feet finally touch ground next to her.
"I'm not yet thirty years of age..." he mutters, as he stands beside her. "I also have a healthy diet and train my body. I am at no risk of high blood pressure or heart disease."
Felicia gets rid of that hotdog in maybe 2, 3 bites--she's really a big eater, it seems. If you could regenerate large parts of your body, perhaps, you would too!
"C'mon there, ninja warrior, get your kage BUN-shin down here and sit," Felicia was already digging her furred hand into a bag of popcorn--wait where'd that come from? Christ she'd need a drink now soon enough, what with all the salt in said popcorn.
"Nice costume change though, I got a few tricks up my sleeve like that--well, not right now, when I'm wearing more clothes, maybe," she snerks, her tail lilting about curiously behind her.
"So what are you supposed to be, some kind of darkstalker hunter? I work for Violet Systems, see?" she points to the logo on her spandex shorts, there's also one on her sports bra.
"So I'm safe, had all my shots, promise~"
She's going to need a drink because of all the damned salt in this ninja, if she keeps it up! He simply folds his arms across his chest and lowers his chin, letting his eyes fall closed as he scowls. So young. So angry. Damn that rap music.
He sits down, leaning back in his seat, though he keeps that same disposition, and his arms stay folded over his chest, closed off and defensive. He does open one eye, however, peering at her out of the corner of it as she points out the Violet Systems logo on her clothing. "So you are... what? Corporate branded? Does that really make a difference?"
He lifts one hand, waving dismissively, before he sighs. "I am no Darkstalker hunter. But Darkstalkers have hurt this city. Greatly. And this is MY city. I am the shadow of Bushin, and my mission is to destroy evil immediately."
He turns his face to look at her directly, studying her with a stare so intense that it might as well be peeling her flesh back, splitting her bones and staring straight into the gooey ephemera of her soulstuff. "In my experience, large corporations tend to be even more soulless than the monsters that walk the nights."
"I'm kind of surprised, you'd think a hot young lady appears before a guy as if by magic, he'd be less pissed off, what's the problem?" Felicia nods to him. "Yeah, it sure does, why wouldn't it? I got a job--hell I've worked a lot of them, I'm just like anyone else," she uses her fingers to flip the cardboard sheaf that the hotdog came in and crumples it up, flicking it into the garbage. Handfuls of popcorn keep getting choveled into that cat's yawning maw, and soon the bag joins it. Well, she is a cat--leave it to one to be a bottomless pit for food!
"I'm Felicia! And who're you, studly?" she tilted her head back at him. "Aww, you're being such a drama queen, I was born in Vegas, hon," she grins.
When she mentions a hot young lady, Guy chokes. His throat seizes up, and his chest heaves as he coughs, lifting a fist to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. There may or may not be a bit of color rising on his cheeks. Surely it's from the lack of oxygen, though. That's it. Obviously.
"..." He's not going to point out the obvious, that she's not like everyone else, considering that she's a shapeshifting cat girl. He's stern. He's unrelenting. He's even a bit surly. But he's not a total dick. He waits until she's done speaking, and then he finally, responds. "My name is Guy. As long as you do not cause trouble here, Felicia, then we won't have a problem. Just understand that this is my city. I defend it. It's... suffered a lot. Not just at the hands of Darkstalkers, but from others as well."
A momentary pause, and he adds, "... please try not to steal things."
"Guy? Aww, you poor thing, you're named after what you are," she sighs. "And I thought *I* had it tough," she shrugs a little, shaking her head. "Either way--having a job with a big corporation can be a pretty good thing--after all, I got my own lawyer now," she grins at that. "You don't need to worry about that," she shook her head, again--to his comment about not causing trouble.
"Do I look like trouble to you? Okay, don't answer that," she shrugs a little. "You know what, I need a drink, I'm gonna skedaddle--" she flicks a business card at Guy, before rising up to her feet. She's barefoot, as well--but she doesn't seem to mind.
"Was just on a saunter while on leave from doing relief work in Tokyo, I'll catch you later, Guy!" she hops down from the stands and scampers off.
Log created on 03:51:09 11/25/2017 by Felicia, and last modified on 06:40:43 11/25/2017.