Diamonds and the Rough
Rplog-icon Who: Catwoman, Bane (emitting)
Where: Gotham City
When: July 6, 2012
Tone: Gritty
What: The Cat goes for a jewel heist, only encounters competition.

In many ways, the night was when he felt the most free. Fewer distractions, fewer people, fewer chances to be... interrupted in his work. He had been in Gotham for a few days now, and had wasted no time in establishing two major policies in these, his early days: reconnaisance, and recruitment. Like any game of chess, pawns were inevitably sacrificed, but every once in a while, promotion into a valuable piece, or the capture of such using those pawns, could be achieved. Tonight was a night for the movement of those pawns, in search of items that could be effortlessly sold on the black market for a tidy lump sum. The money would be put to good use, but that was for another time; first, it needed to be acquired.

So it was that a group of men had been thoroughly frightened into compliance - more on how some other time - to case out one of the most prestigious jewelry vaults in the city. The diamonds within were rumored to be of considerable quality indeed, and rumor had one or two perfect gems contained within, to be cut after being sold to the highest bidder at the auction to come within two weeks. Two weeks was too long to wait, hence the attempted robbery tonight.

Catwoman has been on her best behavior as of late but behaving quickly loses its appeal and she finds herself restless, aching to do something horrible and illegal. Thankfully she heard of the diamonds, the rumors of the gems having filtered throughout the underground of Gotham enough that it eventually reached the thief's ears. The perfect opportunity to stretch her 'legs' and get a little extra money for the cats she has been fiercely trying to protect from extinction.

The place has already been staked out and the femme-burglar has waited patiently, not making her move until tonight. Little does she know that she will not be alone although she'll come to know that soon.

Naturally, a gathering of such physical wealth wouldn't be without security, sentient and not. Time-locked vault, access code, guards, cameras, the works. The guards themselves patrol at regular intervals, with the usual one or two monitoring the security feeds for intrusion and other unwanted activity occurring on the premises. So far, it's been a quiet night, and therefore led the men on duty to looking a touch the bored due to the lack of action. They'll get their wish soon enough, likely.

As to those wanting to help themselves to the goods within, unknowingly racing a cat burglar to the prize, they're already working on the first major obstacle: the human resistance. They assume there are only guards to contend with, there, and surprisingly to them, they'd been ordered /not/ to kill anyone, or even maim. Knockout methods, or not at all. That's why they're all utilizing tasers. A few thousand volts is enough to drop anyone long enough and effectively enough to subdue them after with what's available. Just as interestingly, they'd been given the exact method, before hand, on just how to get into the vault. No doubt your own skill and/or the underground provided the same. The men - thugs - don't speak. They know what they're supposed to do, and when; the whole thing had been rehearsed before they ever arrived, each of them and the group drilled so sternly that one sap too slow to keep up with the pace of the debriefing had been used to make an example to the rest just how... important the matter was to their employer, who had promised a cut for each if they succeeded, and dire straits if they failed. The locks on the exterior doors are a simple matter, easily picked, and even though they knew the alarm would be going off, a silent alarm that would also register to the security panel, they knew how to compensate for it: how long the police would take to arrive; how many guards; where they'd come from; where they'd be watching from. They /know/ the place, as if they had been working here as part of that security detail.

Lockpicks are used and then she slips in, silent as a cat save for the soft whisper of leather when she moves. Once her feet are on the ground Catwoman starts to make her way to the vault. But then... "What the hell," she whispers to herself. Something's definitely not right, she is quick to realize, and then she's quicker to find out just what is going on.

"Oh... damn..."

Selina comes up short when she sees the men who are already here, her eyes going wide. Would be comical if it wasn't for the fact that she has a sinking feeling this is going to wind up badly for her. Clearing her throat, Selina removes her whip from its clasp, anticipating the kitty litter hitting the fan.

If it wasn't for the fact they had been told to keep their eyes open for security, including someone so much as sniffing weird because of allergies, they might have missed the Cat in her sexy black getup.

"Cat!" one barks softly, in an attempt to mimic a patrolman's unauthorized entrant voice, clearly recognizing you and wasting no time hurrying to close the distance to taze you in that getup and get you out of the way. Problem number one: total burglars now does not equal total opposition; these stunguns they have are the kind that require recharging after one potent shot.

Meanwhile, security is already being alerted to the problem, and confrontation, and are converging on the entry room. Silent alarm, remember? The one in the control room isn't being idle, but he isn't stupid enough to alert the /intruders/ to the fact, even if some of them already know they're on candid camera and set off the system in the first place. That was part of the plan: to make it clear that they could get in and get out before police problems or worse arose.

Not that they'll be able to get a clear shot of her. Selina is quick to leap out of the range of those tasers, not wanting to risk the chance of getting zapped which would probably knock her out. Her suit isn't made to absorb electricity, after all, and she doesn't know if these men are the kind who might do unspeakable things to her if they somehow manage to knock her unconscious. A hasty flip and a bit of a sprint puts her behind a support beam, the safety of which she peeks around from once she feels a little less likely to find herself on the wrong end of a shock.

"Now, now, just let me go and you can have whatever you came for," Catwoman offers while wincing. That sounds entirely lame in her ears which means it'll probably sound just as much so, if not more, to the brutish thugs. "So how about it, huh boys? Let the kitty walk out of here and you all will be able to snag whatever your here for..."

"Watch her," one barks to his companions. He's not interested in flirtatious felines in bodysuits that show off the assets well. He wants money, not false hopes at getting laid. "She tries anything, stun 'er. Rest of you, security." The one giving orders as if the leader has eyes only on that vault, it seems, and soon enough, they're bunkering down, getting ready to neutralize the oncoming human traffic, multiple security patrolmen grouping together, already drawing their own armaments. Those use bullets, not electricity; they don't take chances with robbery attempts. But that's okay, these guys are prepared for that: flashbangs.

"So, Cat, you gonna come show off your tail and want me to stroke you while you rub up against me?" He's catcalling you, yes, even using a leering, innuendo-heavy tone of voice despite his eyes watching your every move. Taunting you, in other words, wanting you to make that mistake so he can zap you out of the picture, as the others work to break in by force. They have only a few minutes before police arrive, and by their timetable they're pushing it already.

Normally Selina's not above playing the seductress and using her wiles to get out of sticky binds like this but her heart's really not in it. Annoyance flaring, she runs in the opposite direction, heading towards the far end of the room only to duck behind another column about fifteen feet from the door. "Are you sure you want to play with me? I have been a naughty kitty and didn't keep current with my shots." Pause. "Besides. I don't know where you've been keeping yourself. I'd hate to get mange from you..."

Hopefully he'll be suckered into following her. If he does he's going to be in for a /very nasty/ surprise in the form of a fist thrown at whatever part of him is easily reached.

No, he's not going to be suckered into taking a catnap. (Somewhere, a set of drums offers a rimshot.) They'd be here one man up if Jory hadn't been such a fuckup in 'training', such as it was, and since it was important to their patron that they do it in a specific, non-lethal way, that meant they had to save their shots, and not take chances. It was the last that had been firmly impressed upon them: no. chances. Being arrested was as tantamount to failure as coming back empty handed, or with items of little value. This was a financing job, not an ATM run.

"Bad cats like you should get a spankin', puss. C'mere and I'll make sure you get plenty." He'll banter, but not be stupid enough to rise to the bait. That, too, had been apart of the... memorable instructions. The screaming their former peer being systematically brutallized tended to drive lessons home; it was avoiding that fate that had made them pay close attention to what they were to do, and that included 'outside influences'.

As you and the thug with the ready and armed taser work, another flashbang goes off, while half of the three remaining have been carefully dropped. That leaves one left, and it's at that point he's being charged, despite the gunfire that goes off. The intruders had the advantage of surprise, to some extent: video cameras aren't psychic about equipment, just location, so they had not anticipated flashbangs, and now five man lie groaning on the ground, having been jolted with several thousand volts of electricity while the sixth is quickly beaten into unconsciousness.

"Come on!" the seeming leader yells at the man watching you, and it's at that order he turns his back, perhaps giving you an opening to whip and/or more to him as the others converge on the vault. They're behind schedule now. They'll barely make it before the police arrive, likely leading to a car chase at the minimum.

Silly rabbit. One would think he'd know better than to turn his back on her. The distance between Selina and that stupid criminal is just perfect for the use of her bola which is removed from it's place on her left hip and is thrown, aimed for the man's throat. She's not looking to kill him via choking, that not being how Catwoman plays games like this. But if her luck holds out he might wind up knocked out by one of the weighted spheres if it swings the right way and hits him in the temple or on the right space on his forehead, or if that doesn't work it should be enough of a distraction that it'll give her enough time to figure out her next move.

Stupid thugs with their back turned do not get magical bonuses to dodging bolas. A surprised sound comes from his throat as he's clocked on the back of the head... and goes down. Dazed is an understatement to describe his condition. The Cat's aim was, indeed, true.

"Shit!" One of the others noticed, but they will not be deterred in getting the goods. There's a bit much riding on this job, including being hale and hearty afterwards. The memory of their companion's "termination" from the job is fresh enough to allow them to compartmentalize somewhat.

"Robby, Greg, stall her! Cat's not part of the plan, shoot her if you have to! Just don't kill her!" They'd disarmed the security, of course, after making sure they were unconscious and out for a while, so naturally that means guns could come into play if necessary. They will, now. "You move, Cat," one says, "you get yourself a spotted coat and a limp. Get goin' or we leave you here for the cops while you bleed out from a hole in your leg."

Catwoman - 1. Stupid jerk thugs - 0. "Oh, that hurt," she whispers to herself, grimacing. She got hit by one of those balls more than once when she was learning how to use it and she can't help but to be hit by a momentary pang of sympathy. It passes quickly though and Catwoman rolls her eyes, mostly at the man threatening her but also at herself a bit as well.

"Okay. Look. I'm going. Just give me my bola and I'll go." She doesn't bother waiting for them to hand it over and it doesn't matter if they do or not. It's just a simple black weapon with no identifying mark to give away that it belongs to her. Hell, there won't even be finger prints as she doesn't touch it without having her gloves on. 'Damn, those diamonds would have been nice,' she laments to herself but she knows when she is outclassed. Not that it happens often but she still knows when to cut losses and go.

Military men, these are not, but that doesn't mean they don't know how to pull triggers. One of the two staring you down with the gun will pick up the bola and toss it - not with intent to incapacitate, just return it. "Try anything cute, kittycat, we start seeing just how much you'll purr when we shoot you." Their comrade is groaning on the ground, unable to walk even now, and certainly not of a mind or body to contribute to the job, now. All this while the others work on getting what they need done. Timelock vault this may be, but they do apparently have the master override. How they got it is its own question, of course, but they're not wasting time getting in.

And by this point, there's a faint hint of what might be sirens approaching.

"Knock it off with the posturing and threats. I'm going." The thrown weapon is deftly caught and she's off, running at a sprint. The time she was going to have inside is spent, there no more time to waste. As soon as she's out she's darting off towards an alley, looking for a rooftop to claim and hang out upon until the heat passes. The last thing she needs is another arrest on her records. Let those still inside deal with the cops.

Once the Cat takes her leave, everyone sprints for the vault. It opens, eventually, while the police get disturbingly closer. If they hadn't had that Cat delay, security would have been neutralized faster, they'd be inside /sooner/, and they'd be finishing up with the haul rather than just starting with it. And they're also a man down.

It's because of that that they have to hurry, and because of that need to hurry, plus carrying their comrade out - no man left behind unless dead, was the instruction there - they make off with a little less than they planned. There'll be some pickings left over for hungry cats, should she be able to make her way in under her own power, perhaps another night, perhaps later even tonight, but the end result is that the police arrive in no less than three squad cars, swarming up to the building even as the group bails for it in their own getaway. Thankfully, the designated driver was /not/ the one you felled... and he'll give the police quite the chase indeed.

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