Archive Mutants & Masterminds: Future Imperfect - Mistaken Identity (Felicienne)

[Joani]

She usually liked to sleep a bit longer but something woke her up, a strange sound, something unexpected and definitely not belonging to her apartment. She looked around eyes adjusting to the midday sun. Outside she could hear the sirens of Policecar and if she hadn’t known it better she’d have thought she was in somekind of demilitarized zone.

Her phone was just out of reach but the thought occurred giving Travis a call and ask him to come over. She wasn’t really much in heat but… but she felt like having company. She wanted to pick up the phone when she heard the noise again. Something at the door? She closed her eyes and blend out all other distracting sources. 4, no 6 pair of feet, very nimble ones actually were closing in on her apartment. There, another sound, this time a metallic sound attached at her door.

“Merde!”, she hushed under her breath and jumped for cover under her bed, a moment later an explosion, not loud, but quiet effective destroyed her door. She rolled on her back weighing her options, the phone was just on the other side, facing the door, she had forgotten to put on a shirt last night which left her naked on the smooth flocati carpet… and she was running out of time, the intruders were already approaching.

[Rebekka Van der Vyse]

Felicienne's first thought was that she'd been caught - but she was never caught, nor did she ever keep anything incriminating at the Wynn. She kept it all in her safehouse. Then she heard the intruders softly muttered voices - they were speaking French - and vindictive pique flared inside her, an inaudible growl vibrating beneath her breasts. Not only were they trespassing on her private territory without leave, they must have been looking her father. Few in America spoke French - at least adequately - and even fewer spoke it with a Parisian accent.

I have left, papa, do not be sending your trouble to me! And she had wanting a day of lazy pampering at the Spa and then a nice dinner at Alex. Perhaps go see as show, it was Christmas Eve, after all. She didn't miss her family, but some company would have been nice. Only, this most certainly was not the company she had in mind.

She could have fled easily enough, but this was her home. The intruders, the needed to be punished, at least some. Rolling over onto her stomach, she looked below from her loft bedroom, flexing her hands, her nails lengthening slightly into sharp claws. All concern for her phone or her modesty faded in pursuit of the hunt.

Slow and smooth, she slid from beneath the bed, prowling in absolute silence, her movements so graceful and uncanny, any intruders looking up looked right past her. When on off them was directly below her - Felicienne pounced on him with a vicious hiss.

She flew over the railing, landing on her prey, her solidly toned 130+ pounds pressing against his back,her claws raking across his chest. He barely had time to look up and see her coming, and before he could react, Felicienne bounded another thirty feet away, hiding behind the kitchen counter, to begin a game of cat and mouse.

Muffled retorts from snub-nosed automatic weapons followed after her, splintering rich wood and denting the polished steel furnishings. Felicienne grimaced at the sight as she began to prowl once more, staying low and unseen as she circled around her Villa-Apartment.

Staying unseen, her voice floated up from the deeper recesses of the opulent apartment, her tone a mix of taunting and reasonableness. "La Police et Sécurité Wynn ont déjà été appelé.*" More gunshots came her way, but Felicienne had already moved, her voice now coming left of where the Black Ops Teams was beginning to punch up. "Laisse-moi tranquille, je ne suis pas qui vous voulez. Je ne dirai rien.*"

More gunshots, this time punching tight, fracturing holes through the floor-to-ceiling glass leading to the balcony. The Black Ops team wasn't panicking, their laser-guided guns panned quickly back and forth, looking for her. When she saw an opening, Felicienne took it, darting in with astonishing speed to slash at a hamstring, and continuing on to dash down the hallway leading to her exercise room and the sauna. The exercise room was partially open to the second story, in addition to the balcony, offering her multiple points to get around. Also, I am needing some clothes...

This was her turf, and she was willing to play with them... for a time. The damage to her home was a bother, but none of it was irreplaceable, though explaining it to Wynn Management would probably entail a 'procurement' run to help them look the other way.

Sigh... I am hoping I am not missing my reservation.

Click to reveal.. ( Ze French to ze English)

La Police et Sécurité Wynn ont déjà été appelé. = The Police and Wynn Security have already been called.

Laisse-moi tranquille, je ne suis pas qui vous voulez. Je ne dirai rien. = Leave me alone, I am not who you want. I will not saying annthing.

[Joani]

The 5 remaining intruders quickly secured the room dragging their fallen comrade to the entrance and out of Felicienne’s sight. They weren’t heading for her valuables so she assumed that their presence had a different reason. Within seconds the team put on masks and launched teargas and fog grenades practically covering the entire area. Felicienne could already taste the gas with her highly sensitive mutant senses and realized she was running out of time. Her advantage wouldn’t last for long and they were systematically approaching towards her position.

Her words didn’t seem to bother them. Who the hell were these people?

[Rebekka Van der Vyse]

The spewing teargas hadn't even reached the exercise before it was savagely assaulting her nostrils and tear-ducts, one of the down-sides to having unnatural acute senses. Felicienne hissed in furious frustration, exacerbated by the fact that she didn't even know who they were or what they wanted.

Throat convulsing with the effort of stifling a cough, Felicienne leapt to the second, flipping over the railing with negligent ease and padded silently to her room, staying low to the ground. Her sense of smell was useless with the gas and fog, and visibility was limited, but her hearing was as keen as ever. She could still hear two of them at the entrance with their fallen comrade, the other three moving as a close unit on the ground floor.

Eyes burning, Felicienne made it to her room, the smoke turning everything to dimly sensed shapes. Not wanting to waste time, she slipped on a snug, stretchy dress - not shoes or accessories unfortunately, but a girl, she is needing to do what she is needing to do. The roaming unit was in the exercise room, debating whether she had gone onto the balcony, then started back down the hall.

Felicienne found her phone on the floor, next to where the dress had been discarded. She picked it up and rolled underneath the bed again, rapidly tapping out a text on the touch screen to Travis, made difficult with her vision blurred by tears.

Scratchpost - Not Meow Call. Blk Ops atk Home. Need Help. Can't wait for answer. -F

That done, she slipped the phone into a tight pocket, then pulled off the soft belt on her thick, silk robe and tied it around her eyes, to mitigate the effects of the damnable teargas. She'd do this with eyes closed and ears open.

Perched on the railing fronting her bedroom loft, Felicienne bided her time, waiting for the right moment. Lack of vision was almost as much there problem as hers now, and the roaming trio moved slowly. Finally, the moment came. Two of them were heading up the stairs, the third still at the base. She sprang, claws outstretched.

This time, she was seeking blood, rather her claws slashed at the web-harness he wore over his flak-vest, hoping there was a clue to who there were among the multitude of pockets and clips. Prize in hand, dashed straight for the balcony - almost tripping over the unseen coffee table - and crashed through the bullet-riddled glass, smoke and teargas trailing after her.

Without a backwards glance or a hint of hesitation, Felicienne jumped over the side... catching herself with free hand on the floor directly below, her slender arm easily supporting her weight. She looped the web-harness around her neck and ripped the blindfold off. Then slowly and methodically, she worked her way across the underside of her balcony, ears straining for any hint of sound or speech, her shapely, taut figure hidden in the pale shadows.

Are they going to be leaving before Travis is making it here, if he is even to be coming?

[Joani]

Your story continues here: Cat on a Wire