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Post by Deleted on Nov 19, 2011 3:09:37 GMT -5
Little did she realize upon their last up-close-and-personal rooftop rendezvous, the Bat had placed pin-point sized undetectable tracking bug on a seam-line of Catwoman’s suit. Yet, in all fairness, the tracking bug was set up to be used once and only once upon activation and once the signal was honed in on and matched, the bug dis-engaged itself from its target and irreparably short circuited. They had something of a tentative “truce” between one another after all. And given Catwoman’s actual obedience to their temporary and fragile partnership by providing useful information over Gotham’s rogues as well as staying out of trouble herself and not giving him trouble—he finally decided to up the ante in their cautious armistice. With the tracking bug having been activated, Batman moved through the night as a watchful shadow, gliding through the gothic towering skyscrapers of the city. Catwoman was indeed out on the prowl as he suspected. True, his guess for her to be out on the move tonight was a lucky one, but it was also an intuitive one. He had been playing “cat and flying rat” (an apt term Catwoman sometimes used for their crook versus crusader relationship) for years with the world renowned master thief, encountering, chasing, and at times nearly capturing her to know her habits of nightly prowls.
He almost didn’t even need to bug her to know where he would find her, but with the unwanted presence of the Feds in Gotham—everyone’s behavior and habits were affected. Not to mention, there was never such a notion of being too prepared or careful in the Dark Knight’s line of work. White, vision-mode, specialized lenses scanned the rooftop of the Citibank before him; there he spotted her crouched, slinking, black cat-suit clad form. He reared his gliding frame down, partaking in a perfectly smooth and noiseless landing in the shadows a mere foot away from her curved, slender, feline form.
[glow=gray,2,300]“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” [/glow]
His tone was dark, gruff, and apparent in its sarcasm. Didn't matter if she was busy at the moment or not, his looming, bleak demeanor more than hinted at the importance of his appearance before her.
[glow=gray,2,300]“I've got an interesting prospect for you, Catwoman. By 'interesting' I mean dangerous, high risk, and illegal--in other words, right up your alley.”[/glow]
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Post by selinakyle on Nov 19, 2011 3:39:20 GMT -5
Selina had finally bartered down her cast, gaining a springy, yet stabilizing brace. And despite the slight aching in her limbs, the fresh air and view were well worth it. Even if her complete arsenal of acrobatics was not in rotation; she wasn't going to turn anything away right now. So as it was, she was perched on one of the corners of the tall building just watching.
As much as she hated to admit it the night had been quiet. And quiet was good right now. She had a lot on her mind. And where was one of the best places to think? On her stomach, peering down stories and stories below, or even tweaking her goggles to peer in windows. But despite as hard as he tried to be silent, it had taken months, and years for her to notice the density shift. It wasn't just a body, but a space that was compromised of such a brooding, intense presence that she was near able to sense him coming even in the pitch dark.
“Not at all. Why don't you join me watching the antics in 14-B over there?” She pointed a long, slender arm across the open sky to where she had been idly watching. Not even bothering to look back at him, she waited a moment or two and he spoke again. Raising a brow, a claw clicked her own view as she rolled to her back, gazing up at him, a smirk on those ruby red lips of hers.
“Wait one second. Who are you, and where have you put my Batman?” Green eyes hidden by her goggles looked him up, then down. He looked like Batman. Was crabby, and to the point like Batman. But proposing something as fun, as illegal, as deliciously dangerous as he was tempting her with? This necessitated a closer look.
Languidly rising to her feet in one smooth motion she was mere inches from him while she flipped one edge of her goggles up, a hand going to tap him on the side of his cowl with a claw. “You sure you didn't smack your head against something?” Narrowing her eyes at him she 'hm'ed.'
“I don't know. Are you still sure you want to team up with a criminal? One of the best thieves this world knows...but still, I don't play black and white, Batman.”
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Post by Deleted on Nov 19, 2011 5:13:50 GMT -5
His eerily penetrating and unblinking white gaze stayed glued right on the cat-suited thief before him, her small but powerful frame easily dwarfed in the looming reach of his distinct shadow. His chiseled, lightly stubble covered sharp jaw was set firm and harbored his undeniable signature scowl, not at all amused by her catlike antics in the way she invaded his personal space. He had purposely neglected on using terms like “favor” or “proposition”—for both notions implied he would owe her something in return for her services. The fragile truce they now shared in an effort to thwart the likes of the FBI was more than he was willing to grant her in terms of earning and owing a boon—but desperate times called for desperate measures.
And now?
His reason for seeking her out would classify under one of those “desperate times”, and considering he was here now it was too late to reconsider his position and turn back. [glow=gray,2,300]“I don’t play at all.” [/glow] As he growled out his response to her words, he lifted a gloved hand to bat away hers as she tinkered with the bat emblem on his armored chest plate.
[glow=gray,2,300]“You and I both know the only rules I follow are my own. I’m not the law—I’m far from it. My duty is to bring justice and protection to the people of Gotham; both ideals now being shit on by the Feds. Their time in Gotham ends now.”[/glow] His scowl turned into a sneer, teeth grit and tone harsh. He suddenly lifted up his hand from the confines of his cape wrapped form holding before her goggle-clad gaze a paper thin, needle sized and shaped, small tech piece. [glow=gray,2,300]“This is a bug that I specifically designed to enable me to patch into the FBI’s communication lines without ability to be traced, detected, hacked, altered, or removed once activated upon its insertion. However, it needs specific placing to capture the frequency—and needs to be scanned in at said frequency once it’s found at the same time. A two man job. Needless to say, placing this bug also requires direct access to the Feds’ security mainframe.” [/glow] He watched her closely as she took in his proffered information as well as a moment to study the device itself. Then, in a single smooth movement, he put the bug back into one of the many comparments on his faint gold utility belt. [glow=gray,2,300]“Given our popularity with the Feds, we would need to get in, place the bug set and scan the frequency, and then get out with absolutely no chance of being detected. Considering your colorful thieving background and highly successful reputation with breaking and entering, you seemed least likely to screw up something as risky as infiltrating the FBI’s headquarters; by default that makes you the most likely choice I have in working with me, to ensure the success of this mission. The stakes are high, the security is top notch, you have exceptional training and skill when it comes to bypassing security, and I can only do so much on my own in a two man required job. Not a black and white situation here, just a yes or no one.” [/glow] After what seemed like an eternity for a pause, the explanation of the mission and its facts laid out before her, he finally added, begrudgingly, a genuine question he was almost never known to be quoted in asking to anyone, ever.
[glow=gray,2,300]“I need your help. Will you help me?”[/glow]
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Post by selinakyle on Nov 19, 2011 6:53:22 GMT -5
He was asking. And choosing his words carefully. Very carefully. Then again, he was mad enough to say the word 'shit,' and still swat her hand away. Conflict. He was seething in it. As she took the smallest of steps away from him while he raised up the plant, she had to raise a brow. It was good tech. And if he had something that was untraceable, she'd want to know all she could. “Damn. I even doubt Sony, nor WayneTech has come up with something that...obscure...” She murmured, eyes hungrily following as he tucked the gadget away.
But then he had to go and mention rules. She tuned out. Then the FBI's name was uttered. “Fucking Bunch of Idiots,” she'd started to think every time she heard the truncated abbreviation. It's what they were. If she could only tie the damn black car that had been chasing her and Dick that one night, she'd do anything to flush them out of Gotham. And without even pleading, or stealing, it seemed Batman was offering a team up.
Straight into the heart of the beast. With shiny new toys. How could she resist? Well, she could. And it would be easy. But she had initially sought him out, to team up. Truce. The word echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes to think. FBI building. Two man job. And even though she had a quip on the tip of her tongue; it was swallowed as soon as the brooding dark Knight of Gotham asked her for help. She had to think about this, before answering. They were heading into odd territory. Uncharted waters. All those clichés.
When he glared at her, almost if he could force her to speak, she held up a finger. Non-clawed. Thoughts. “Give me a moment, about this partnership. She murmured. The word would save them both face. She didn't just 'help.' And Batman, of all people, didn't ask for it.
But for now, she would have to do a quick schematics. Blueprints. Gear. Times of operation. She'd need it all. Computer access. Where he wanted to place the little...needle. What his scanners did. How big. Who would carry what. And when would they find the time to do it, without the building being occupied. As she lowered her finger, she would start to pace, a hand on her hip, another running along her lip as she thought.
Idly circling him, she was deep in thought, her eyes flicking to his getup. If only she were in France. Or Nice. Hell,she'd have him all gussied up and they'd be in and out in under an hour. But no. This was Batman, with all his armor, and muscles, and that damn cape. As she completed a second circle around him, she stopped before him again. “I have questions.” She wasn't saying yes. Nor was she saying no. She was utterly skipping that step and moving ahead.
“First. Payment. Second, I need supplies. Schematics. Blueprints. I need to be able to handle, well,” she waved a hand at his belt, “That. The tech.” Swallowing, she continued, a chill going down her spine. She was laying herself bare, in front of the man who sought her out, night after night seeking to throw her in Blackgate. Shifting slightly, to take the pressure off her ankle, she shrugged, glancing anywhere but him.
“We're going to need a plan. Need to know a-how to get in, and get out without them knowing, or we need a diversion. And are we both going in, or just me? Thing is....” Those green eyes finally went up to that stubbled...stubble? Batman had stubble tonight? She blinked, briefly tripping over her thoughts. “If we're both going in, you are going to need to pare down the getup. Unless you really want to wear it all in. I doubt even the HVAC could support your boots. The building they took over is old. So...unless you can trim at least-” She stepped forward, her hand running first over his breastplate, then along his arm; she sighed. “45% of what you're wearing, nix the cape, maybe keep the ears, I honestly can't tell you how far we're going to be able to get you in. Unnoticed, that is.”
She stepped back, studying him again, "Then again, that is if we both go in. You could go in a disguise. But.” Another pause, her mind clicking the pieces into place. “It depends on where you want to patch this in.” Another sigh. Another shift as she turned away from him, glancing across the night sky. “And I want access to the information. But all of this...planning right now, still brings us back full circle. I need schematics, so this can be figured. Unless you want a chance of failure, and we just go in. Now.” Turning on a heel she winced slightly, and folded her arms across her chest.
“Also,” She started softly, “I'm baring my entire process to you. Yes, it's for a mutual purpose. The greater good. A two-man job that needs to have one slot filled by a woman. I can't say I'm entirely happy, but team-ups like this have happened before. When it's really important, and in this case, it's for our city, for Gotham, we can hopefully put our differences aside and work together. And when that happens, it seems those more on my side of the equation behave like civilized adults with a job to do, while your lot carry on like petulant teenagers, griping in the back seat because you're being dragged to a family reunion when you wanted to stay home and play video games with your friends.”
“So, we can either do this, realize we don't always see eye to eye, on anything, really, but realize we're coming together for Gotham, get the FBI out, so you can mete out your own personal brand of justice, I can do my thing, or I can walk off the edge of the roof, and you can find someone else. But...there is one more thing I'm still going to need.” She paused.
“My payment. No questions asked. And it has to be given willingly.” Catwoman would wait until he asked what it was. And she'd reply in turn; “A kiss.”
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Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2011 2:10:50 GMT -5
The smirk that wanted to breech his lips was hidden—didn’t she know who she was talking to? The moment she laid out the precise schematics he already knew he had her covered. Blueprints, change of suit, equipment, further layouts of the FBI headquarters were all obtained and ready to go—all items he was necessarily carrying on his person, but they were all items he had ready to go and to be used within his current vehicle of choice. He would never, ever seek out assistance from anyone unless he was thoroughly prepared to engage the mission at hand.
[glow=gray,2,300]“No chance of failure, Catwoman. I’m always prepared.” [/glow] He responded to her words in a very ‘matter-of-fact’ tone. He then moved to tap the small computer console neatly and sophisticatedly hidden within the confines of his powerful, multi-purpose gloves and suddenly before Catwoman the air pressure changed. The cool, calm night wind had become warm, detectable, and almost suction-like. Suddenly before she could make heads or tails of the environmental situation a near silent “whirring” hum of a sound was heard. The shadows suddenly appeared to stretch out before Catwoman, extending into the inky black sky—undetectable, eerily unnoticeable, and quite unforgettable—a bat-shaped silent jet moved with keen precision along the outskirts of the rooftop ledge they both stood upon. The Batwing. It was specifically set up to be untraceable, undetectable, and carried little to no visibility from outside parties. An ultimate stealth vehicle—Batman assuming the Feds would last put their radar to the skies given the methods they were showing.
[glow=gray,2,300]“Everything you’ve mentioned? I’ve got in here, ready to go and be used at a moment’s notice. I have some idea of what I’m doing. All I need is help from the best.”[/glow]
The hum of the silent bat-shaped hover jet was behind him now as he stood upon that rooftop with her. Lenses pulled back from the slits for eye holes in his mask, he now gazed upon her with his unwavering steely blue intensity. It was her last request of payment that threw him off… A kiss? This wasn’t the typical rooftop-vigilante flirting they had engaged in before… This was different. Territories they had never delved into before. The hover jet Batwing now whirring behind him—equipped with all they needed to commence upon his proposed mission right then and there with nothing to stop them, the Bat was suddenly silent, paused in his method of “work mode”. Beyond his gadgets and disguise, this talented grey-ideal themed walking thief had rendered him stunned for a moment, her request something he had genuinely not counted upon.
[glow=gray,2,300]A kiss…?”[/glow]
He echoed in response to her required payment. He knew what she was about—manipulative, mind messing, motive driven, and self-gratifying… and yet there was a part of himself he couldn’t help but acknowledge given how drawn to her he was. [glow=gray,2,300]“I’ll grant you such a kiss—but not under a fool’s guise.” [/glow]
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Post by selinakyle on Nov 29, 2011 3:05:51 GMT -5
He was still going to question her? Blinking several times she pushed her goggles up to her forehead, her gaze going up to his damned aircraft. To say he was prepared was an understatement. To say he was anal, even more understated. He was prepped, and obsessive. Then again, so was she, in some areas. Sighing quickly, she shook her head, unconsciously turning her faintly bruised side away from him, even though the lighting on the rooftop was crap.
“Hate to say it, Batman, but I'm no fool, and I'm not going to play ball until payment is tendered. You could always get one of your little sidekicks to help out. But like I said, payment, and my prior conditions, or you can just plan on placing your newest little toy on your own.” She quipped, shrugging, and starting to turn away from him toward the rooftop's edge.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2011 3:38:01 GMT -5
Fierce blue eyes gazed intensely at her form, sweeping over the form fitting, skin tight leather and latex cat-suit she donned; from the knee high boots, to the small utility belt about her slender waist, up to the holstered notorious whip on her side, to the specialized gloves with retractable razor sharp claws, past where she kept the zipper of her suit down low enough to create a provocatively distracting but welcome all too feminine view of her chest, up to where the cowl complete with cat ears and tech laced goggles framed her alluring, beautiful face. Though her mask was an open faced one, it still concealed her enough to obscure her true identity. His gaze stopped on her own glittering green eyes.
Unwavering. Unnerving. Unstoppable.
It was always a game of cat and mouse, rather cat and bat, with her—did he expect anything less? When she turned to saunter away from him a suddenly firm grip caught her shoulder and before she could blink she would find herself pulled right up tight against his armored dark form. The heat between the two of them was undeniable even despite the biting chill of the night. His eyes left uncovered by his specialized lenses now seemed eerily bright in the shadows of his scowling mask.
[glow=gray,2,300]“You agree to my conditions? Then I agree to yours. Promise.” [/glow]
The gruffness in his voice gave no warning to his unexpected dip to meet her mouth with his own. He kissed her. Hard. Hot. Deep. He bit into the kiss, scraping his rough stubble against her soft flesh, tilting his head some to invade her space and senses. His kiss was biting, wild, and almost feral in its intensity—taking lead and complete control. She tasted like the night, sweet and addictive… dangerous. The censors within his suit began adjust to recalculate the more than apparent rise of his body heat.
His mind spinning in ecstasy for a moment as his body reacted to the temptation, desire, and pure magnetism that was all Catwoman. Perfection. He broke the kiss then, catching her lower lip between the ridges of his teeth—nipping her once more, as if marking her in his own way. Heart rate had escalated slightly, body heat had risen, and mind felt heady… she caused all of that within him in a single kiss.
[glow=gray,2,300]“I’m a man of my word.”[/glow]
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Post by selinakyle on Nov 29, 2011 4:04:55 GMT -5
A mere step from the edge and she would've had the night to herself. A low-key one at that, considering she wasn't fully healed enough to risk her normal antics, but still. Window-watching was fun. Instead, he met her bluff with a single action, tugging her close; closer than they had been in the past months, no, make that years. There was no time to think, no time for her to answer his words as his mouth was on hers in an instant, enveloping her own in that dark, intense way he had. A deep breath had been taken in quickly, and thankfully, for she had been able to grab a glimpse of those vivid blue eyes before he had fully invaded her senses.
From her view turning only to black, dark, and his armor, to the wind chill now obscured by his taller, more solid form, she wasn't complaining. Thoughts churned as her hands automatically placed, one coiling about his neck, the other hovering over that emblem she usually toyed with. Lost in his mouth, she pressed back just as earnestly, noting the tang filling her mouth. Something she had bet him, she had actually received. Maybe it would be this once, but she hoped it would possibly continue.
And then, just as soon as the moment had started, it had ended. Or so she thought, before he had nipped at her lower lip. Crying out lightly, her eyes narrowed as they finally disengaged, and she almost slapped him. Almost. Still so close, she nodded, the claws on her left hand already exposed before she stepped back slightly. Enough to look up at him, her expression caught somewhere between contentment and irritation.
“Man of your word, of course. Just make sure you know the definition there, Stud.” She quietly retorted, before clearing her throat. There had been no funny business. A bit of shock, considering how passionately he had offered payment, but still.
“Ok. Looks like it's down to business now. And if you're wondering why that sort of payment, instead of some sort of 'get of jail free card,' it's because if I'm going to do this with you, based on our tentative partnership, I need trust. Trust that you're going to cover me. That you can listen. That you can actually work on a damn team, because to be honest, I don't like partnerships. I work alone. No one else to trip you up, hold you back, or throw you under a bus. And no splitting the profits. Ok?” Trying to regain her full composure was taking a bit longer than she had hoped, and she hoped he wasn't noticing that. He was a good kisser. And it was even better because it was freely given. Not stolen.
Clearing her throat again, her clawed hand settled on her hip. Thumbing up to his flying rodent-mobile, Catwoman looked back at him. “We ready to start this thing?” She wanted to look at the toys available. And if she were going to do a mission, she knew no one had better toys than Batman.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2011 5:10:27 GMT -5
For a moment he expected to feel the sharp sting of a claw laden slap to his face—the way her slinky form before him tensed up almost promised such a reaction from her—but, the swipe didn’t come. Instead her words followed after a moment of breath had been caught between the two nocturnal beings. Words that were spoken in truth, yet they also seemed flustered, as if stalling to give her a moment to rearrange her thoughts. In all honesty, he was glad she rambled for a short while; Batman had a moment to grapple his own personal reactions to such a kiss.
He had only intended to give her a simple, open mouthed kiss—but what he delivered instead was something powerful, pent up, dripping with lust, passion, raw intensity… Such emotions and drive had appeared to come out of the blue from within him, and though he didn’t deny his attraction to Catwoman, he certainly didn’t outright act upon it. The emotions stirred within him would have to be placed on the back burner to analyze later, and the reaction his body had over such a kiss—especially feeling the sleek, soft, and supple curves of her feline feminine form against him caused a very certain undeniable reaction that only males could indulge.
Thankfully his bat-suit was built to keep everything contained.
Just then, a gust of engine heated wind could suddenly be felt as a near silent whirring hum grew closer, the bat shaped, black hover jet lowered down to the edge of the rooftop beside them. The hatch of craft opened on Batman’s very simple remote operated command. Batman was no longer behind Catwoman and when she glanced over her shoulder in asking him that last question, he was now pulling out a single, steel armored and secured canister about the size of a fire extinguisher. After in-putting the code for the tube-like device it suddenly opened, revealing a myriad of endless tools and gadgets all for their use, as well as two neatly folded, unidentifiable black uniforms.
The black suits were light weight, form fitting, equipped with bio-censors for communication and vital sign purposes, and came with hooded faceless black masks—each one containing secured comm-links. Black visors were also equipped on the masks to help give added perception and advantage over locks, security, personnel, etc. Not only did Batman have all the toys, but he also had the best toys.
[glow=gray,2,300]“In the gloves of the suits I implanted a flexible, paper thin computer-link. It contains the most recent architecture blue prints of the building it was before becoming the FBI’s headquarters. Structurally everything is the same and when we get into range of the headquarters the computer-link will update the foundation layout to show any new changes the building now has.”[/glow]
Without question, the Bat was right to business now—his grim, dry, stoic tone and demeanor hiding the lingering chills of excitement their shared kiss still invoked within him.
[glow=gray,2,300]“Once we get within 30 feet of the facility the visors of the masks must be turned on and worn at all times. No exceptions. They are tweaked to send out an undetectable static frequency that hinders anyone with the metahuman ability to read minds and control thoughts. It’s not fool proof, but it’ll buy us time should we run into the Feds’ dirty little secret.” He took the suits out of the container and handed Catwoman the smaller set and upon seeing the look she was giving him he then added, “Apparently the FBI has a metahuman working for them—a psychic and a rather strong one at that. Given her young age it’s doubtful we’ll run into her, but we’re prepared should that option arise.”[/glow]
He stood before her now, holding his own specialized secondary suit, trying to stave off the sudden gutter thoughts now wanting to consume his attention—all brought on by his next statement.
[glow=gray,2,300]“There’s no room to change into these suits inside the Batwing… Changing right here saves the most time…”[/glow]
Words trailed off as he gave her the reality of their changing uniform on rooftop situation.
[glow=gray,2,300]“This one time I’ll make an exception—I’ll be a gentleman and not look. Ladies first.” [/glow]
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Last Edit: Nov 29, 2011 6:38:05 GMT -5 by selinakyle
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Post by selinakyle on Nov 29, 2011 6:35:39 GMT -5
Those green eyes went wide, her still throbbing lower lip parting from the top. They were going to change here? On the rooftop? She couldn't. Fucking. Do. That. She was still injured. And in peeling off her costume, it would reveal that fully. Blinking her eyes rapidly as the bundle was thrust into her arms she was stunned. Seriously? High-tech gadgetry like this to get into the damn FBI HQ, which was really the old Stateyard building, and since they had taken over, not a whole lot had even been updated?
“You're kidding me. No paper blueprints, we're changing on the rooftop, where we both turn our backs to strip down, then I hand over my custom-made calf-skin suit to you to stash in your bat-plane?” She spat, shaking her head. “What about looking at that needle thin bug you wanted me to plant, because I hate to say, Stud, that even stripping off all that extraneous crap you're wearing, you're not exactly built to sneak and bend like I'm used to.”
Stepping closer, her fist balled and gently smacked his chest. “That is not needed where I play.” And there was only one man, truth be told, that could match her own moves and stealth. But that was the past. And the future, as infuriating and handsome as it presented currently, was living and breathing right in front of her.
Once he mentioned the psychic, her eyes closed. Speaking through gritted teeth, she could feel her blood near boiling. He didn't tell her this tidbit. “Ok. Then we need to come up with different, and I mean entirely different names to refer to eachother. Mundane. Nothing even hinting at our professions, or our real names. I'll leave that little creative endeavor to you. I'm sorry, but using a child for their benefit is bullshit. A gifted one at that? Worse. Makes me sick to my stomach.” She spat the last few words, almost spitting on the rooftop herself.
Unfolding her own items, she sighed again to herself, looking over them. “What about my belt? Can I take that in? Do we have para cord, or are we going to chimney through..the vents? You have an idea of how to get in? And what about your little bug? Will I get a crash course in that, too, because I'm betting I'll be going in a bit deeper than you?” She was pissed. Even as she started tugging off her gloves, and her boots, one of each off before she asked him one more question. “I need medical tape. The stronger, more flexible, but supportive the better. And I'm not changing until I get that. And an answer on what I can take, or we're taking, or not. Paracord, a small foldable knife, lighting, a pencil. What about my claws? “ She yammered, waiting until he handed her the roll and turned his back before she continued to remove her boots, and then each glove, tossing them in a pile. How he had even gotten her size was ridiculous. Not like he'd been paying any attention to her at all through the years unless it was to say 'Stop. That is breaking and entering.' Or some variation on, 'That's not yours, that's stealing,' and other boring topics of conversation.
Rolling her eyes she would re-wrap her ankle, as well as her right wrist before starting to tug down her zipper, eyes locked on the Batman several feet from where she stood. Slipping easily out of her suit despite it's snug fit, she shivered. Great. A nice Autumn evening, and here she was, stripping down to her rather nice bra and panties. If for any other excuse; such as a damn first date, she'd be happier. But as she tugged down the other sleeve gingerly over her still healing arm, she wasn't exactly pleased to be standing there in her La Perla plum colored bra and matching boyshorts.
Reaching for the suit he provided, it wasn't that bad; it just wasn't leather. Nor was it her own, and it was rife with too many gadgets. Trusted she liked them as much as any gear-head, just, Batman took it to the nth level. The fingertips felt weird, and even the boots were...supple, but weird. A computer on her sleeve? Another hearty eyeroll as she quickly pulled her hair back, not quite hiding all of her eyes yet.
“I'm good. Changed, I mean. But show me how this damn visor works, before I fully cover up. I don't like the material over my eyes...” She said quietly. While she did appreciate her own goggles, Catwoman was a good thief. World- known. She could crack a safe by sound, or with the newfangled wizardry the script kiddies these days were coming up with. But still. Bat-tech?
Crouching to fold her suit, cowl and other assorted things, she almost felt naked in the black silhouette. It was figuring hugging, no doubt about that. It was like every curve her body had was illuminated, showing she was rather feminine, but had strength in her toned, lean muscles as well. No belt, at least not yet...and a visor? When she had upgraded to goggles it had been, awkward. But now, a visor? Watching him as he turned to come help her, she felt almost ninja-like. A new persona. That was still awaiting it's name from a man she had just played tonsil hockey with in the name of trust.
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Last Edit: Dec 2, 2011 18:06:31 GMT -5 by Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 2, 2011 18:01:28 GMT -5
Being the “silver tongued” conversationalist he was known for, complete silence met the thief’s rambling sassy demands, complaints, verifications, and questions. It wasn’t like he was tuning her out—especially considering the fact she had brought up some excellent points about their current mission at hand. Being true to his word and to their new level of earned trust he did indeed turn around, allowing the woman freedom to change from prying eyes as well as helping to keep whatever shred of dignity she had left considering she was forced to strip and change on rooftop.
Despite her tendency to walk both sides of the fence when it came to picking sides of “good” or “bad” and her world renowned thieving skills, Catwoman was actually a woman of high class. Her refined tastes showed in the carefully crafted suit she wore during her nocturnal endeavors, to the items of extreme prestige she stole, even to the way she handled herself around dangerous situations—including him. He liked that about her, a thief with charm and style and one who maintained high expectations for herself and those around her; much like himself, Catwoman was something of a perfectionist in her line of work and he had to admire that sort of dedication and attention to detail.
Of course, during her little rant he was also keeping keen alert (as always) of the surrounding perimeter, making sure there were no witnesses or unwanted trouble about. He had taken her own personal items and secured them safely away in the specialized canister which contained enough supplies for a small army to utilize for any sort of infantry-based mission. The Batman’s MO being: Always prepared. No exceptions. Once she finished changing, he took liberty to change out of his notorious dark armored bat-suit. The mask and cowl were removed first—leaving a secondary form fitting fabric black mask beneath, concealing his hair and covering all of his chiseled face save for his defined jaw. The torso piece of his suit was removed next, showing his bare well-muscled and defined form beneath. Pale skin covered his liquid steel muscles, his fit form easily proving that the suit wasn’t just exaggerating his own pure brute strength. Also donning his pale flesh were a myriad of scars—all marks from the battles he had as the Bat over the years… and if Catwoman did decide to peak? She might even spy a few claw mark scars on his body as well. The lower portion of his suit was removed, revealing black form fitting specialized boxers. The image of the Bat now in nothing but his boxers and a head mask was revealed—even if it was just his backside—proving that beneath the high-tech armored gear he wore, he was still just a man and the barrage of scars and faded bruises on his lean, powerful, sharp form sealed that fact.
Soon he had changed into the new black suit, entirely form fitting and rigged with lightweight bio censors, computer communication tech, and very light weight body armor. [glow=gray,2,300]“Using your own tools isn’t a good idea in this case considering we’re going through such extreme lengths to conceal our identities. Scope through my supply and take what you need—everything is unmarked and general in its make; so tracing the operation of what we do is going to be impossible. Which brings me to your question about physical blueprints—paper is messy and can be traced. Everything has been downloaded on your computer-link.” [/glow] He tapped his forearm where a sudden grey-tinged screen faintly lit up only visible by the user of such a high-tech device. A few quick taps was given to the screen and Catwoman suddenly felt the computer-link on her own suit’s forearm vibrate gently. Suddenly his graveled dark voice was heard within her ear directly when he spoke next.
-CLICK- [glow=gray,2,300]“I’ve just synced our computer-links together and secured our frequency for this comm-link. I’ve also connected the bug to the computer censors to be sure everything lines up properly when we get to the point of securing the device into the mainframe line. Just tap the computer-link to access this comm.”[/glow]-CLICK-
He now moved to the canister and grabbed a shoulder strap style utility belt and affixed it about his chest and right shoulder. He then grabbed a spool of the oddly requested medical tape—but decided to not comment as to why Catwoman would ask for such a supply. Instead, he filed the information that she used the tape and how she used it, for future analysis and study. He tossed her the tape and then wryly asked, [glow=gray,2,300]“Anything else? Ace bandages? Anti-bacterial ointment? Inhaler? Pain killers?”[/glow] Once she had procured her own needed supplies from his seemingly endless and comprehensive stash, he stored their well secured iconic cat and bat suits within the steel container and closed it. He placed the container into the open hatch of the jet and then turned to her, handing her a small protected vile containing the needle-shaped bug within. [glow=gray,2,300]“We’re going to infiltrate using paracord—there is a mapped out guide to follow on the computer-link to show where I found a suitable entry point. There is an air vent that leads directly into the building we will enter. And given the difference of our sizes, I’ll be right with you up until we reach the mainframe corridor—then we branch off. You’ll place the bug and I will calibrate it, again this must be done simultaneously.” [/glow] Upon explanation he now climbed into cockpit of the jet and once she secured herself in the passenger side, the hatch closed and the jet silently lifted into the night sky. He further explained in detail how to place the bug and also how to use the visors when the time came for the equipment to be worn—also explaining the visors’ ability to read body heat, hostile weapons, invisible laser-based alarms, etc. etc. etc. Staying high in the sky well above plain view or enhanced as well as bypassing any and all sonar/radar devices they would start flight towards the FBI headquarters.
The cockpit of the jet known as the Batwing was a vision of curious, shiny, and blinking high-tech delight. Buttons of every color, shape, and size stared at Catwoman as if begging to be touched or pushed. Levers, gear sticks, and handles were everywhere—certainly an overwhelming sight for someone to be exposed to if they had never seen such highly advanced technology before. [glow=gray,2,300]“Whatever you do,”[/glow] His dark voice came back into focus, for it could be assumed such shiny new “toys” to gawk at might have distracted Catwoman from hearing his cut and dry, drab explanation of the schematics for their mission. [glow=gray,2,300]“Don’t touch ANYTHING.” [/glow]
He growled the last warning to her in that “no-nonsense/don’t even think about it” tone. He watched her for a brief moment and then, staring ahead, his demeanor still as serious as ever when he finally touched basis on the mention of new “code names” for them to use for tonight’s plan. [glow=gray,2,300]“Bonnie and Clyde work for you? Other option would be Pebbles and Bam Bam.” [/glow] Still, no sign of a smile or laugh was given… But, never-the-less, the Bat had made a joke.
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Post by selinakyle on Dec 3, 2011 3:55:02 GMT -5
She hadn't meant to peek. He was doing the noble thing and honoring her trust, and she would respond in kind. But as she turned, about to say something when he started to speak; she had caught a glimpse of the man beneath all the armor. A concept that for her at times was hard to grasp. Batman was cold. Calculating. That voice. But to catch a glimpse of pale...Really? Pale skin, she had to bite her tongue. The change in his figure was, different without the bulky themed gear of the Bat. And while he may poke fun at the themed villains, he had to realize his own gear was just as hokey at times. At least her own mostly consisted of ears. And claws. Retractable claws. But spotting the Bat pared down to something she used years ago, when she was a rookie- made her smile. Not that he could see, but there was that spring in her step as she walked over to him.
If anything, this outfit showed him off more. He wasn't sinewy rope, but he was muscle. Braid upon braid of it that she could feel beneath her fingertips. As he tapped his own forearm, she turned to watch him, not quite liking the way her own 'visor' fit. “Ah.” Was all she said, tapping her own forearm communicator, his voice now echoing in her ear as well.
Sighing as he mentioned no paper, she rolled her eyes. Something he couldn't see, thankfully. She'd already complained enough. But with good reason, honestly. Catching the tape as he tossed it to her, she removed her boot, re-enforcing her foot again. Glaring again, she shook her head. “No, I'm good. Unless you have some sort of humor in your bag, you know, because I think you're lacking it...” She shot back, standing and affixing her own belt. How she wished she had her claws right now, to just shred that suit off him. It'd be like butter; no armor, no finger wagging, nothing. Maybe even a twinge as he felt the pain.
But. That wasn't for now. As he rattled off their route, and protocol, she wasn't happy. Not that she had been, to start, but...it was better than nothing. “Are you sure that entrance is decent?” Tucking the bug into her own belt she nodded, already having taken note of the cord. Also within her own belt were a few items similar to her own gear, probably from him interacting with her so often through the years, as well as those she had selected from his choices. Thankfully she found her last item and palmed it with a sigh, before following him into the jet, and fastening her belt.
Turning to look at him, she couldn't help but think of her past France. University. The Sorbonne. Marc. The tow-headed, green eyed man she had started her life with, after her hellish start in Gotham. How they had scoured climbing stores, and pieced together their own gear, riding into the night on his moped. The way her eyes would meet his and they'd bypass the security as if it were a delicate dance, rather than a felonious crime. It was the only time she'd worked with someone else; and it had laid her foundation.
Swallowing roughly, she blinked behind the fabric covering her face. And since then, she hadn't partnered with another. No man, or woman had come with her on a heist. She hadn't trusted someone, especially Batman, of all people. Marc....had been a friend. Then a lover. Then a partner in their thrill seeking nights. Laying in bed at sunset, passing the cheap cigarettes back and forth while chatting back and forth en Frances, about whether to go out dancing, or to first go to this opening or that, then hitting it later, in the wee hours of the night. She could almost taste the night air, feel the blood pumping through her veins.
And then the voice jolted her from her reverie.
“What?” She blinked, turning to look at him.
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Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Mar 29, 2024 10:22:49 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2011 5:10:43 GMT -5
The brooding scowl of a look he shot at her was his silent reaffirmed response to her question of uncertainty over the decency of their entry point. Of course he was sure--he never did anything on a “whim”. He studied the blueprints, mapped out the security of the headquarters, timed the patrol of surveillance cameras and security guards, committing everything to memory- both personal and computer. [glow=gray,2,300]“Bonnie and Clyde it is.” [/glow]
He decreed in response to her last dazed question, making the decision for their temporary code names.
[glow=gray,2,300]“You’re going to infiltrate first. I’ve calibrated the precise coordinates of the outer airduct vent so when you paracord down you will land right in front of the vent’s opening. It’s sealed with grating—you have only 15 seconds to remove the grating and slip inside the airduct before the surveillance camera detects you. At the end of the 15 seconds, I will drop down and enter the duct. Once inside the ventilation system, tap the right panel on your computer-link and you will be presented with a visual map layout of the headquarters in the screen of your visor to give you easier navigational access. The location of the mainframe hardline has been highlighted to also help keep us in the right direction.”[/glow]
Once he finished his explanation of how the mission was to begin she would suddenly realize the jet had stopped travelling; they were now hovering high above the FBI’s headquarters.
[glow=gray,2,300]“If you don’t have any further questions, then once again, ladies first--Bonnie.”[/glow]
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Post by selinakyle on Dec 7, 2011 17:41:40 GMT -5
There could be worse things. As she finally tuned in and listened to him, she nodded, half disbelieving his timelines. She could get in and under a grate in 7-10 seconds. But the two of them? She faintly shook her head, rolling her eyes at him again as he spoke. At least they'd have a better chance of moving without him in all that bulky gear. She was used to sneaking into small places, hence her build. Him? Muscle. Not as beefcake as he appeared to be in his Batman suit..but still. He was no Catwoman.
But, she was piecing things together. Hitting the panel he denoted on her arm computer, she could already see the map on her visor. But what she declined to do was hit the button that would set up any mind blocks. She didn't need it. And if she did run into a kid, it would be easier to talk, than to block.
“Vent. Paracord down, 15 seconds, you're going to follow me. Everything should show in my visor, and I have the bug. My only question is when you stop, and I continue on. And...what happens if we're caught. Have you factored that one in, Stud? Er...Clyde.”
What an awful name.
Still, Selina let out a length of rope, handing it to him as she exited the jet, landing quietly on the rooptop near the grate, waiting for her partner in crime to help her. Then the countdown.
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Deleted Member
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Registered On: Mar 29, 2024 10:22:49 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2011 7:31:37 GMT -5
Even through the identity obscuring face mask and visor, the look of sheer unquestionable intensity that only the chilling blue eyes of the Batman could produce, was felt after Catwoman’s haunting question in regards to their outcome over such a dangerous and high-risk mission.
[glow=gray,2,300]“We go to my backup plan.” [/glow]
His simple statement so self-assured in his undeniable confidence over his control of the situation—he had backup plans for backup plans, it was all part of his brilliantly eerie ever-prepared tactics. But before she had time to question just what his proposed backup plan might entail of, he opened the hatch and tapped his comm-link opening lines of communication with her through their secured frequency. [glow=gray,2,300]“After you.” [/glow]
He quipped as she took hold of the paracord and then moved with her silken, stealthy, slinking grace, departing the hatch of the Batwing and commencing in a stunning swan dive towards the roof of the FBI’s headquarters far down below. She made it look easy—the death defying drops, skilled precision of tool usage, breaking and entering with pure finesse… She was one of a kind, a master in her realm, beyond the title of mere “professional”—thieving was her essence of being. Though the days were long gone where he might’ve tried to coerce her to the side of justice and channel that extraordinary energy to crime fighting rather than crime causing, he learned his lesson that taming the Cat was just as impossible as taming the Bat, he still held a fine respect and appreciation for dedication and effort it took to maintain and perfect such efficient expertise. Once she made it to the rooftop, the timer began—he switched vision on his visor to gain better view of the facility to be sure everything was still going according to plan. He now moved with just as much deft speed and efficiency by rigging the paracord up and then exiting the hatch. Cool night air met his stealth-suited black form, his fall just as silent and smooth as Catwoman’s, though not quite as graceful given their body’s major differences in build and weight.
The paracord pulled tight before landing, allowing him to adjust in silence and stealth, then disconnect from the rigging to soundlessly land right before the now opened vent. Immediately he slipped inside the procured opening, having the security surveillance timed down to the second. He pressed inside the vent, inadvertently crushing right up beside her own form, both of them meshed together in the airduct—he located closer to her rear and legs.
Not that he was complaining in the least bit.
In the comm-link his voice could now be heard only within her ears. [glow=gray,2,300]“The first blinking node on the map indicates where we split. Just navigate towards it. I’ll be right behind you.”[/glow]
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