02-27-2009, 02:20 PM
Tails of the Legendary:
Purrfect Valentine
"Hey, Kitten." Derrick's warm voice over the phone caused Sammy to shiver. He sounded amused, but then, he always sounded amused about
something. "You up for something special today?"
Clutching her phone tightly, Sammy nodded eagerly before remembering he couldn't see her. "You bet!" she managed, voice dangerously close to
squeaking. "I'm ready for, um, for anything!"
He chuckled. "Well, then, sharpen your claws and get your pretty tail over to the RWZ. I'll meet you there." With another chuckle, he hung up.
Sammy felt herself blushing and tried not to break into a silly grin. He'd remembered!
Still, though, it seemed odd, even to her. The RWZ wasn't where she'd have thought he'd suggest going for Valentine's Day...
Oh well. He probably wanted to surprise her. She nodded to herself. Yep, that had to be it.
She hung her phone back on her belt. "Time for me to go, mister Freak!" she said happily, bending forward to look into the dazed eyes of the Freak
Swiper whose chest she was perched upon. "I've got a date!"
"Nnnrrggh," the Freak replied. Sammy patted him on the cheek fondly.
"You Freaks are fun. I'll come back to play more later, okay?" She stepped lightly off the prone Swiper and looked around, getting her
bearings. "Bye!" she chirped, and blurred into motion, leaving the semi-conscious Freak behind.
Sammy arrived at the RWZ by way of the Atlas Park entrance, emerging from the portal at full speed and trusting her reflexes to let her dodge around any
slow-moving Vanguard or other heroes that might be wandering through. It was what she always did; after all, the base here was big, and the corridors were
always just about empty. It was perfect bounding territory -- down the hall, off the corner, up into the rafters, off the hanging lamp that was positioned
perfectly at the corner, and back down to the floor.
Except today it didn't work so well.
"Eeeep!" Sammy uttered as she frantically backpedaled. Too late. With a panicked yowl she plowed into a crowd of costumed crusaders from both sides
of the fence, bouncing off one who looked like a walking bridge abutment and coming to a startled stop on her back, looking up the (long!) legs of a scantily
clad stalker... who looked at Sammy with a raised eyebrow for a moment, their eyes meeting past the gentle curves of her hips, before saying,
"Well, hello there, hero. Usually I insist on getting a drink first, but I guess this isn't the D..."
Sammy blushed and scrambled out from under the woman. "No, no, I -- eeep!"
This time it was Derrick startling her. Purrfect Arrow melted out of thin air, wrapping one arm (and his tail, Sammy noted, whee!) around her possessively.
"She's with me," he said by way of explanation to the stalker, who sniffed.
"Boys and their toys," she said, flicking her fingers at them dismissively.
"C'mon, kitten," Derrick said with a grin, leading Sammy through the press of the crowd. The gathered vigilantes were clustered in groups,
checking weapons, exchanging friendly taunts and advice, and preparing for... something. Several heroes stood on platforms that lifted them above the crowd,
but Sammy was still too startled and confused to make sense of what they were saying. Something about pylons? What?
"Hey!" she spluttered indignantly, twisting in Derrick's arms to look back the direction they'd come. "Did she just call me a
-toy-?!" she hissed. Her claws extended slightly.
"Calm down, kitten, it's all good," Derrick said soothingly. "Everyone's on edge, is all. She didn't mean anything by it."
Sammy scowled, but let it drop. Then, her mood brightening, she leaned on Derrick and tried not to let her excitement show. "So what's the s-special
thing you've got planned?"
"We're going to attack the Rikti ship out there," he said. Sammy blinked.
"We're going to WHAT?!"
Derrick grinned down at her and remained silent until they reached one of the small, scattered platforms. A man in bottle-green combat armor stood there,
carrying a rifle with an ease that Sammy found unnerving. His expressionless visor nodded at them once in greeting. Sammy racked her brain, but came up only
with a fleeting memory of him meeting Aunt Ifrit at the door once for some sort of supergroup business -- Aunt Ifrit's supergroup, not Alice's.
Sell-Sword was his full hero name, and he never took off the helmet; that's all she remembered.
"Hey, Sword," Derrick said, before giving Sammy a quick hug and hopping up onto the platform itself. He grinned down at her again, then shifted his
eyes to the milling crowd. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and loud. "Team two, form up over here!" he shouted.
"Here," Sell-Sword said quietly, handing Sammy an earbud. "It's tuned to the command frequency already. Just stick with us, do what the
raid leader says, and you'll be fine."
"We're going to attack the WHAT?" she repeated, glancing dubiously at the earbud before fitting it into her ear -- carefully; she didn't like
things in her ears, they were very sensitive. As it settled into place a voice came through clearly, in mid-sentence:
"--all out the pylon number, we all converge and demolish it, and so on. Once that shield drops we form up on the upper hull and we'll go from there.
Any questions, talk to your team lead. We're moving out in one minute!"
"De- Arrow," Sammy said plaintively, "what are we doing?"
"Get your bad guy shredding face on, kitten," Derrick responded. "We're taking down that big bad mothership out there, and I can't
think of anyone better I'd want at my back."
Sammy blushed, then straightened her shoulders. "R-right!" She snapped a salute. "Purrfect Scrapper, ready to shred, sir!" She giggled.
"That's the spirit," a new voice chimed in. A big man with a flowing cape stood next to her. "Call me Cap'n," he said with a
wink, holding out one hand in friendly greeting. "Arr!"
"Arr?" Sammy inquired, shaking his hand.
Cap'n nodded. "Arr," he said solemnly. He looked up at Arrow. "These Rikti have got one hell of a parking ticket waiting for them.
Let's go deliver it!"
"MOVE OUT!" the voice on the earbud said.
The gathered crowd, heroes and villains alike, spilled out into the streets with a wordless roar.
For Sammy, the next hour was the wildest ride she'd ever been on. The pylons that generated the force field protecting the downed Rikti vessel were sturdy
-- she'd made the mistake once of taking a swipe at one in passing and nearly been sent to the hospital as a result -- but against the combined might of
dozens, if not hundreds, of heroes, they each fell in mere moments. More time was spent moving between pylons than in actually taking them down.
And then the last one fell, and with it, the shield.
This, Sammy realized as she concentrated on fighting, on staying alive and swiping at every Rikti in sight, this is CRAZY!
"Sammy! MAGUS!" Derrick yelled, his voice coming in over the earbud on the team channel in her ear. Amid the din of combat, with energy pulses and
explosions and screams and battle cries and shrieks of the wounded and everything else, she'd never have heard him otherwise. She looked up, idly
deflecting a swipe from a Headman's sword, and saw the catman standing on top of a fallen Rikti, aiming his arrow at an odd-looking Rikti who was laying
heroes out left and right.
She -moved-, blurring the distance between herself and the Magus, and caught him in a flying tackle, knocking them both to the ground as she began trying to
dismember him in flurry of claw swipes. Whatever he was doing in response didn't seem to affect her, and she was just beginning to think this would be
-easy- when he whipped out a big sword and clobbered her with it. She rolled back to her feet and returned the favor, knocking the Magus down. While it was
on its back she spun and dealt with an annoying Communications Officer who had been pestering her from behind; when she turned around again, the Magus was
stomping determinedly towards Derrick.
"Another Magus," Sell-Sword hissed over the comm, his rifle laying down suppressive fire.
"BUSY!" Sammy yelled, hoping the earbud transmitted as well as recieved. The Magus had friends who wanted to play, and she needed to get clear of
them so she could pounce on that stupid Magus again before it used up all of Derrick's nine lives.
"LEAVE! THE CAT! ALONE!" she yelled, leaping and landing on the Magus' back and digging her claws into its helmet. If THAT didn't get its
attention, she didn't know what would. It turned, trying to face her, swiping ineffectually at her where she clung to its back.
Then another bomb went off, and Sammy found herself flying. Clear over the side of the ship, in fact. She bounced and rolled and came to her feet, shook the
helmet -- head? -- of the Magus off her claws, snarled, and leapt back into the fray.
It was over.
The halls were clearing rapidly -- some off to continue the fight, some to relax and unwind, some for parts unknown. The medical bay was full to bursting, but
the nurses and doctors there were used to this kind of thing and were putting out-of-commission heroes back on their feet like clockwork.
Sammy sat on an ammo crate near a Vanguard robot and tried to get her breathing back under control. Her muscles twitched; she couldn't recall a time when
she'd gone all-out like that for so long. She stared at the Rikti ichor crusting her claws and frowned. This wasn't exactly -- oh, let's face it,
wasn't -remotely- -- what she'd had in mind when Derrick had called.
It had been kinda -fun-, she had to admit, but not at all what couples -- they were a couple, right? She hoped they were, but then again, given -this-, maybe
he didn't think so?
"Hey, Kitten."
Sammy looked up and gasped. Derrick was wearing an immaculate white shirt with a red vest, and tailored black slacks. He looked like a valet from a
particularly nice restaurant... or perhaps, Sammy thought, noting the understated gold cufflinks and other decorative bits, the guy the valets parked the car
-for-.
"Wow," she breathed, and he grinned.
"Like it?"
"Wow," she said again, nodding.
"I've got this party -- fancy thing, all formalwear, you know how it is -- that I have to attend in a little while." He made a show of examining
his fingernails. "You wouldn't by chance like to come with, would you?"
She twitched. "A... a formal party?" she said wonderingly. "With dancing and music and stuff?"
He nodded. "Food, too. It's a very highbrow thing, I wouldn't go if I didn't have to, but..." he shrugged. "Since I do have to
go, I'd like it very much if you came along."
Sammy nodded hesitantly. "Formal, you said?"
Derrick smiled. "Yeah. Don't worry, you've got time to change. It starts in a couple hours, right over there." He pointed down the hall
at wooden double doors. "That's the entrance to the VIP area, where it's being held. Give me a ring when you're ready and I'll meet you
there?"
Sammy nodded dumbly. "O-okay." The -VIP- area? That sounded... important. Derrick leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
"Thanks, Kitten, you're a lifesaver." He turned and left.
As soon as Derrick was out of sight, Sammy sat bolt upright in terror. A -formal- party! She didn't -have- anything for a formal party -- clothes were
something she wore to keep her fur from getting messed up, or because it was fun. She clawed desperately for her phone, nearly dropping it in her haste to
speed-dial a number she'd only used a couple of times before.
"Aunt Sylia? HAAAALP!"
"Calm down, Samantha, we have plenty of time." Sylia smiled gently at the over-excited catgirl. Sammy returned her calm gaze with a frantic,
pleading, bewildered look.
"But we've only got an hour left and I'm not even done shaving yet and I don't even know how to put on that that whatever it is you've got
on that hanger, the one over there behind the door, and I'm not going to look good and Derrick will be disappointed and --"
"I've seen this before. She won't shut up until you startle her," Nene put in helpfully. "Like this." As Sammy wailed and
fretted, Nene reached out, secured a light grip on the frantically swishing tail, and ran her hand backwards along its length.
"-- and it'll be all my faulAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Sammy broke off her panic-fueled rant and leaped free of Nene's grip. "AUNT NENE!"
"Well, we had to shut you up somehow," Nene pointed out reasonably. "Or you -will- be late."
"MY tail! No touch!"
"You don't complain when Arrow touches it."
Sammy blushed and opened her mouth to respond.
"Girls," Sylia said, still calm but with steel in her tone. Nene grinned and mimed zipping her lips, while Sammy forced herself to stand still, her
mouth snapping shut on whatever she'd been about to say.
"That's better," Sylia continued. "Now, then. If I'm understanding the situation correctly, you have a date with a young gentleman in
just short of an hour, to attend a formal party being held in the VIP area of the Vanguard base. Correct?"
Sammy blinked, then nodded. Sylia returned it briskly. "Good! Now, I've brought a selection in here with me, which should let us create something
suitable. Please hold still, we'll need your measurements if we're to tailor it properly..."
Nene leaned back against a cabinet and watched her boss -- if in name only -- go to work. It was strange, observing Sylia make use of the same traits and
abilities that made her a good leader for the Sabres in a field so totally different. The phrase 'vigilante fashion' swam through her mind and she
snorted.
"Hmm," Sylia was saying. "I think... yes. Red does look good on you, Samantha, we'll make use of it. And the black. Being comfortable in
what you wear is just as important as how it fits, so we'll use the same colors you prefer normally." Sylia turned to Nene, motioning her aside and
retrieving a bottle after a moments searching from inside the cabinet. She handed that to Sammy with a flourish. "This body wash will take care of the
fur. Right through there is my private shower. Go on, go on!" After Sammy vanished into the bath, Sylia turned to Nene with a small smile on her face.
"She's really worked up over this, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she's got her tail in a twist over him, that's for sure." Nene chuckled.
"Mmm. Well, I've got her measurements for the tailoring. And a manicure is indicated, I think. Would you be so kind as to get the angle grinder
from my workshop?"
Nene saluted. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!"
Sylia shook her head and chuckled as she bent over the garments she'd chosen and began marking the alteration lines.
"Say, Sylia," Nene said thoughtfully, pausing by the door with an impish grin.
"Hmm?"
"Is that thing on the hanger behind the door for you, or Priss?"
"Go get the angle grinder, Nene."
Derrick was standing where he'd said he'd be, by the doors leading to the VIP area, glancing at his watch and conversing quietly with Sell-Sword --
whose ludicrious green helmet clashed horribly with his rather dashing tuxedo -- and a woman Sammy didn't recognize from behind, with long black hair
flowing down her back. Sammy took a deep breath and twitched at the hem of her jacket. Behind her, Nene chuckled and urged her forward from the portal.
"Go on, silly, you look great."
A quiet mew escaped. "Are you sure?" Sammy said. "I don't look silly?"
"Sylia did a number on you. If anyone calls that outfit silly, they're either blind or they have the fashion sense of a Carnie."
Sammy giggled and took another deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready, I think. Eep. Wish me luck, Aunt Nene!"
"Why? You don't need it." With another gentle push, Nene sent Sammy on her way.
Sammy approached the group shyly, pausing as Derrick looked her way and noticed her. His tail twitched in surprise and his face broke out into a smile.
"What do you think?" she said, watching his face carefully. He blinked and opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again.
"Simple, but elegant. It suits you," Sell-Sword put in, nodding. The dark-haired woman -- Sammy didn't recognize her -- cocked her head and
directed a puzzled look at Sword, as if suprised. Sammy shared the sentiment; she hadn't thought the man behind the visor even noticed things like that.
She caught sight of herself in the mirrored faceplate as Sword looked her up and down, and once again was startled by the image staring back at her.
A black long-sleeved jacket with intricate designs in red at the cuffs, and a red lace-and-mesh top underneath. By itself, the top would have been lingerie;
under the jacket, it was... something else. She wasn't sure how Aunt Sylia knew just how far to go, but the effect was pronounced. Below the neatly-cut
open jacket, a black skirt with a red tiger-stripe pattern clung to her hips and was more comfortable than Sammy would have guessed; even though it reached her
knees and was skin-tight, she had no problems moving. She blushed lightly as the men's gaze reached her legs and started back up; she'd never worn
stockings before, but Aunt Sylia had insisted that what was underneath the clothes needed to look as good as, if not better than, the clothes themselves. She
wasn't sure, but she suspected that the stockings, and the lacy belt holding them up, were far more expensive than the rest of the outfit combined.
"You look great," Derrick said at last. "Just... wow."
The dark-haired woman turned and regarded Sammy with an amused grin. "Onyx Blast, pleased to meet you," she said, holding out a friendly hand.
"Call me Rhea."
Sammy stared, puzzled, as her hand automatically responded and Onyx gave it a firm shake. Her nose cut through the various odors in the base and caught a
whiff of a familiar perfume; that, and the woman's own scent, triggered a very vivid image in her mind.
"Miss Rhea?" Sammy blurted. "What are -you- doing here? And what happened to your cat?"
Onyx jerked a thumb at Sell-Sword. "I'm with Short Dark and Silent, here." Then Sammy's other question visibly registered, and Onyx dropped
her face into her palm. "... and we haven't met, no matter what it looks like." She sighed. "Sword? Remind me to smack you, afterwards.
You could have warned the poor girl. They're in the same supergroup, it only makes sense."
Sell-Sword shrugged, his face hidden behind the mask -- though Sammy suspected he was grinning.
"I'm confused," Sammy announced.
"Don't worry about it, you'll get a headache," Onyx said dismissively. "(Christ but that girl gets around,)" she added under her
breath. Since nobody else seemed to have noticed -- though Derrick's tail was twitching in amusement -- Sammy assumed she wasn't supposed to have
heard it. She sighed. People always assumed the ears were just for show!
"This Rhea is not the same Rhea you know, kitten," Derrick put in helpfully.
Sword adjusted his cufflinks. "The party has begun. We should get moving."
Derrick grinned and offered his arm to Sammy -- who for her part had to reach way back into her memories of the days at the Wilde Home and the etiquette
courses she'd mostly skipped to remember what she was supposed to -do- with it. She settled her hand lightly and watched as Onyx and Sword paired off,
checking each other's attire with an attention to detail that had Sammy frowning in puzzlement -- the two of them looked like they were getting ready for a
mission, not a party.
"Ready, Kitten?" Derrick whispered, that chuckle still coming through his voice. She shivered and tried to remember not to purr.
"I hope so!" she whispered back, squeezing his arm. "I've never been to a f-formal party before."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, bringing a startled mew to her lips. "You'll do fine."
The doors opened and they went inside.
Rhea regarded the milling diplomats, high-ranking military men, and powerful civilians with a critical eye as she nibbled on a tasty bit of something from the
buffet table and tried to look innocently curious. Sword was off getting a drink and quietly scanning that corner of the room. They were supposed to guard
the Lady Grey... who hadn't shown up yet. Personally, Rhea figured the Lady was probably attending a different party, one far more entertaining than this
conference was turning out to be.
Still, though, their job was to keep an eye out for people who were out of the ordinary... and in a room full of superheroes and Rikti in addition to the
normal run-of-the-mill VIPs, that was a more difficult task than it sounded.
One in particular stood out, but mostly because he was all but -leering- at her. She sighed. It wasn't that she minded being looked at -- and, let's
face it, she thought wryly, if you had body image issues you wouldn't be wearing -this- outfit! -- it was that he was being so obvious about it.
"(Spotted anything?)" Swords voice whispered in her ear. She jumped.
"(Will you -stop- that?!)" she hissed back at him, smiling and taking the proffered drink. "(You keep sneaking up on me.)"
"(Pay better attention and I won't.)"
Rhea sighed. "(Any news from the others?)"
"(Arrow just got word that the Lady Grey is taking longer than expected. He's going to go check the security computer and see where she's
at.)" Sword raised the wineglass he held to his faceplate and paused, as if sipping, then lowered it again. Rhea snorted and tried not to laugh.
"(I see you dug out the -formal- helmet, Sword, very nice. It's very flattering. You should have buffed it, though. I can't quite see myself
clearly in the -faceplate-.)"
Sword ignored the jibe, drifting off towards another corner of the room with a muttered, "(Stay sharp,)" over their private comm.
Rhea sipped at her own drink and tried not to grin. After a short while, the catgirl -- Kitten? No, that was what the other cat called her. Sammy, that was
it -- Sammy approached her hesitantly. Behind the catgirl, Fusionette -- wearing an outfit that Rhea herself would have thought twice about -- was engaging
several people in animated conversation.
"So, um... are you two on a date, too?" Sammy asked after a moment, standing next to Rhea.
"What? No!" Rhea stared at the catgirl, aghast, before remembering where she was and putting a more social look on her face. "Why would you
think we were? This is a security detail!"
Sammy blinked. "Um, well, there's the dress you're wearing, at least I think it's a dress though it's mostly just straps but ANYway
it's very nice and -I- wouldn't wear something that expensive if I thought it'd get shot up and Sword's in a -suit-, he never wears anything
but armor usually and you two are always together and even though I know you usually like girls oh wait that was Miss Rhea except you smell just like her and
you stand just like her and --"
"Contact!" Sword's voice broke into both their ears as he broadcast -- Sammy winced as her earbud completely derailed her monologue, for which
Rhea was duly if somewhat distractedly grateful.
"Now why would they put the security computer in the vehicle garage?" Arrow's voice said disgustedly, followed by the thump of high explosive.
"Seal the room and get back here, I need a hand!"
Sammy and Rhea stared at each other for a moment before dashing off. The catgirl dropped to all fours and -ran- -- a neat trick in heels, Rhea noted absently
-- turning into a blur, streaking through the doors and neatly dodging around Sword, who was fading from view as his stealth systems engaged. Rhea took to the
air in a haze of charged particles and followed, taking a moment to key in the override codes that dropped an armor panel down over the entrance to protect the
attendees from whatever was happening.
Then she hurried to catch up to the others, following the sound of a major furball in progress.
It was ruined.
Her first formal date ever, and it was ruined.
Sammy swiped dejectedly at a Nemesis automaton from where she crouched amidst a fallen group of them. She blinked as it twitched, and finished the job with a
sigh. As the robot shuddered into final silence, she scowled.
Stupid Nemesis. Even if the party hadn't been -fun-, she'd almost-kinda enjoyed it -- even though Fusionette had acted all stuck-up and
self-important, and even though Derrick had all but abandoned her not five minutes through the door. She supposed she couldn't blame him -- he'd had a
job to do, sure, but she figured he'd have said something if he expected it. He'd probably thought it was going to be a cakewalk -- I mean, if anybody
really suspected Nemesis would attack, they'd have had armored guards and tanks and things like that, right? And he wouldn't have said "dress
formal" if he'd been -expecting- to have to work. It was probably like on TV, when someone was babysitting and invited a friend along to keep them
company, because everyone knew nothing was going to happen.
Except it always did, but that's just TV, Sammy noted to herself.
She sighed.
"Hey, Kitten, nice work back there." Derrick came around to corner and looked down at her. "I... I... uh..." He coughed delicately and
cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away to stare at the ceiling instead. "I, uh, maybe you shouldn't sit like that wearing that outfit?"
Sammy frowned and looked down, then hastily leapt to her feet as her cheeks flared bright red. "Eeep! I'mnotusedtowearingthingslikethis!"
Derrick's lips twitched as he gathered her into a hug. "Well, I'm not -complaining- about the view," he remarked innocently.
"(meep)," Sammy said very quietly, eyes wide -- but a purr was starting in her chest despite her best efforts to contain it.
"You did good," Derrick repeated softly. "Thanks a lot, Kitten."
"N-no problem," she managed.
Derrick hugged her again, then stepped back. "I have to go," he said. "Cleanup from this... mess." He chuckled ruefully. "I'll
give you a call later?"
Sammy took a deep breath -- he WILL NOT see me cry! -- and nodded. "Okay!" she said as brightly as she could.
He smiled at her and left. As his tail flickered and vanished around the corner, she dropped into a crouch again, hugging her knees. She stayed that way
until the Vanguard cleanup crew arrived to remove the automatons, then rose and made her way silently to the base teleportal.
From there it was a quick stop to change into the street clothes she kept in her locker at the base -- she found time to marvel that whatever the silky-smooth
stockings were made of, they'd held up without a blemish to the rigors of combat -- and then back home.
"Well, I wasn't expecting YOU home this early, after sending you off dressed like that." Nene teased as Sammy entered the apartment. She blinked
at her adopted niece -- daughter, some might say, though Sammy seemed reluctant to take that final step -- and added, more seriously, "Hey... is
everything okay?"
Sammy nodded. "Yeah... we, uh, we finished the mission. Aunt Sylia's stuff held up really well, I've got to get a bit of machine oil out of the
jacket but the rest of it is fine." Sammy took a deep breath. "The first time he called I thought it was a date but it really wasn't but that
was okay, it was a lot of fun and he needed my help and it was all good you know? and the second time, well, I'm sure he -meant- it as a date but then
stupid Nemesis showed up and crashed the party and now he's stuck cleaning up after THAT and I think he's just as bummed about it as I am 'cause he
didn't even ask for my help, he just said he'd call me later, I mean, I'm kinda bummed about the party too but it's probably worse for him
'cause it was his idea in the first place, and I know Valentine's Day is just a silly holiday anyway but it's all messed up now and it's not
FAIR and I think I'm going to go take a nap now, have fun on your date tonight Aunt Nene, you and Aunt Ifrit should go somewhere special..."
As she spoke, Sammy began edging down the hall; Nene half-rose to stop her but by the time she'd recovered from the verbal barrage Sammy was already in her
bedroom and closing the door. Nene sighed and sat back down.
I sometimes think she talks like that on purpose just to keep people guessing, she thought sourly. Then she picked up the phone -- just as it rang. She
blinked at it, then answered. "Hello?"
"Miss Romanova? This is Derrick."
Nene grinned -- a bit ruefully. "I was just thinking of calling you."
There was a moment's pause. "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."
Nene nodded. "Yeah, well... Sammy's had a rough day, and whether you intended to or not, you're at the heart of it." She smirked.
"You do NOT want Ifrit going all mama bear on you, y'know. I've seen it. It gets messy."
He chuckled. "That's more terrifying than you know." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's what I was calling about, actually. I
want to surprise Kit-- Sammy, but I need your help to pull it off."
Nene blinked as a smile grew on her face. This sounded intriguing! "What's your plan?"
"Well, it's like this..."
Sammy roused from her doze -- not a true nap, but not true wakefulness either -- as someone knocked on her door. She thought about ignoring them, but that
would be rude -- just because her day sucked didn't mean she had to take it out on... on... on whoever was knocking. She untangled her legs from the
sheets and rose to open the door.
Aunt Nene stood there, in her armor, her helmet held in her hands. Before Sammy could say anything, she spoke.
"We need your help!"
Sammy blinked. "Um, okay?"
"Quick, get that outfit Sylia gave you back on! It'll have to do, you don't have any other formal clothes, right?"
Sammy blinked again. "Uh, no? Aunt Nene, what's going on?"
"The Sabres have a mission we need to pull off, and it's starting -now-!" She shook her head exasperatedly. "No time! Get dressed!"
She spun away from the door, then paused. "C'mon, Sammy, please! We really need you!"
Sammy stared down the hall after her aunt for a moment, then eep'ed and dived for her closet.
"Here we are," Nene said. Sammy stepped out of the van, accompanied by all of her 'aunts'; Typhoon Sabre hit the gas and the van left them
there in an alleyway. Net Sabre fiddled with her wrist computer for a moment, then nodded.
"On time, barely," she said, her electronically-filtered voice sounding odd to Sammy, who knew better than most who was under that armored shell.
"Well done, ladies," Silicon said. "Take your positions. On our signal, you go in, Sammy. Understand?"
"I - I think so?" Sammy knew she didn't understand a thing, really, but her instructions were clear: she was to go in and tell the maitre'd
that she was there to see Don Flecha -- whoever that was. If the man was there, she'd be escorted to his table, and then the Sabres would move in and help
her kick his butt. Easy, right?
"You'll do fine, kiddo," Aunt Priss said. She clapped Sammy companionably on the shoulder, then flicked her visor down and became Street Sabre.
"Sabres, go!" Silicon said, and the armored women scattered. Sammy waited.
A light from the roof blinked at her, catching her attention. Belatedly she realized it was the siganl. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to
herself, and entered the restaurant -- a quiet Italian place that she'd never noticed before.
"I'm h-here to see Don Flecha," she said to the impassive, balding man with the mustache behind the podium at the entrance.
"Of course, madame." His spine was ramrod straight as he snapped his fingers, causing another impeccably dressed man, this one a waiter, perhaps, to
appear out of nowhere. "Madame is here to see... the Don," the maitre'd informed the newcomer, who blinked and became very nervous.
Sammy gulped.
"The Don? Are you -- I mean, of course! Right this way, madame, if you'd care to come with me." The waiter gulped and shot a panicked glance
at the maitre'd, who lifted his chin and urged him on with a flick of his fingertips.
Sammy gulped. What had she gotten into? She flexed her fingers as her claws itched to slide out of their own accord.
She followed the waiter through the restaurant, which was busy but not crowded; the decor was subtle but elegant, dark woods and leather and oil paintings.
Sammy gulped and hoped the restaurant carried the usual insurance, because if not it was going to be very expensive after the Sabres and her got done shredding
this Don character.
"Ah, your table, madame," the waiter intoned, indicating a quiet booth in a darkened corner. There was a man already seated there, wearing a hooded
cloak -- she couldn't see his face and the smells -- the overwhelmingly wonderful yummy smells, she realized, as her stomach growled -- from the kitchen
were hiding any sort of clue from that direction.
She suddenly realized she had no way to signal the Sabres, then squelched it. Aunt Nene would have thought of that, she just had to wait for them to arrive.
She let herself be seated. The waiter bowed -- he was -terrified- of the man in the cloak, she noted -- and left.
For a few moments there was silence. Then the Don nodded graciously and pushed a small box across the table towards her. "Open it," he said
gruffly.
She glanced suspiciously at him -- where were the Sabres? Was she going to have to shred him by herself? -- and slowly did so.
Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a small golden pendant in the shape of a heart with an arrow going through it, on a fine chain. She blinked at it,
completely befuddled...
... and suddenly a tail was caressing her calf under the table. A tail she knew all too well. She raised her eyes to see a grinning catman peering at her,
having thrown back his hood.
"DERRICK?"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Kitten," he said, and laughed as she leaped across the table in a tackle-hug.
The dinner was amazing, Sammy thought. She couldn't pronounce half the dishes they'd ordered and eaten, and she didn't care. She smiled happily
to herself as she swirled the last of the wine in her glass.
"So what's next?" she said, meeting Derrick's eyes across the table. He was sitting -- no, lounging was the better word for it, Sammy
thought -- quietly, watching her with a small smile on his face. She sipped at her wine, wondering just what was going on behind his sparkling eyes.
Derrick cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "I was thinking... we never did get a chance to dance, earlier. There's a place just down
the street..."
Dancing! He wanted to take her dancing!
Sammy set down her glass and stood. "Well, let's go!"
Derrick matched her grin and rose, offering his arm, which she gladly took. They left the restaurant and walked slowly down the street to the club Derrick had
mentioned, enjoying the night air.
Once inside, Sammy paused and tugged lightly on Derrick's arm. "Hey," she said, to get his attention.
"What is it, Kitten?"
She took a deep breath and looked up into his face. "I, um... don't know how to dance."
Derrick blinked, his face taking on a rueful expression. "Well, that's going to be a problem," he said. When Sammy looked at him quizzically,
he shrugged. "I don't know how to dance either," he explained. "Somehow, it just never came up before..."
Sammy looked thoughtful. "I guess... we'll just have to teach each other, then." She nodded firmly. "Let's go!"
She tugged him out onto the dance floor as the band struck up a new number, glancing back once over her shoulder to see a bemused smile on his face.
The moon was high in the sky, competing with the War Walls to cast a pale glow over the city, as the two of them slowly made their way along the sidewalk.
Sammy rested her head on Derrick's shoulder, their tails wound around each other's waist. She sighed happily.
"This is my place here," Derrick remarked quietly, coming to a stop. She nodded.
"It's nice," she said. It could've been the worst hovel in the city and she would have thought it looked nice. Her legs were twitching from
the long night of dancing, and she wanted to sit down, or better yet, lay down, or best of all, lay down with Derrick beside her...
She blushed, grateful that the darkness most likely hid it from his sight.
"If, uh, if you need to get home, I'll understand," Derrick said.
"Aunt Nene's probably waiting up for me," Sammy said. Even to her own ears her voice sounded noncommittal.
"She's just worried about you," he responded.
"Yeah," Sammy said, and giggled. "I'm out with a devious criminal mastermind, after all."
A quick flash of a grin. "The notorious kingpin, Don Fleche."
Sammy nodded. "He's a really bad guy. Terrible."
Derrick leaned down, his lips close to hers. "Horrible," he whispered.
"Absolutely rotten," she replied softly, and kissed him.
Nene glanced at her watch -- 4:42 A.M. -- and turned her attention back to the door as the deadbolt clicked and the handle turned. Sammy entered, a dreamy
expression on her face, and shut it quietly behind her. The catgirl turned and caught sight of Nene in her bathrobe.
"Oh, hi, Aunt Nene," she said, smiling.
"Talk about the cat that got the canary," Nene said, reaching out and ruffling Sammy's hair. "You look like you had a good night."
"Mm-hmm," Sammy agreed.
"'Mm-hmm'? You don't get in until almost five and that's all you've got to say?" Nene's tone was joking, but at the same
time, she -was- mildly concerned. Sure, they'd had The Talk, and sure, Sammy was more than capable of defending herself, but still...
"Nope," Sammy replied, a small smile flitting across her face.
"... well? Don't keep me in suspense! What? What happened?!"
"Good night, Aunt Nene," Sammy said, and headed down the hall to her bedroom.
Nene stared after her. "Hey, wait a minute -- oooh!"
Ifrit stepped out of the kitchen, her lush curves barely hidden behind the nightgown she'd hastily thrown on. "I told you she would be fine,"
the fey noted with wry humor.
"... she's being -discreet-," Nene said wonderingly, staring down the hall. "Sammy. Discreet. These words, they do not go together."
She blinked. "-And- she didn't answer my question!"
Ifrit giggled, laying her hand lightly on her lover's back. "C'mon back to bed, dear."
"Well, at least -you're- acting normal," Nene mock-grumbled as Ifrit led her down the hall. "I still want to know -what happened-."
"No you don't."
"Yes, I do, I really really do!"
Ifrit laughed lightly. "I'm sure you can guess."
"But I don't -know-," Nene wailed.
"Then ask her again in the morning, you know Sammy can't keep a secret. But right now I'd appreciate your attention being focused... elsewhere,
dear."
Nene let out a mock sigh as Ifrit dragged her into the bedroom. "Didn't you get enough earlier?"
"It's Valentine's."
"Mm... I suppose... hey! No tickling!"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Purrfect Valentine
"Hey, Kitten." Derrick's warm voice over the phone caused Sammy to shiver. He sounded amused, but then, he always sounded amused about
something. "You up for something special today?"
Clutching her phone tightly, Sammy nodded eagerly before remembering he couldn't see her. "You bet!" she managed, voice dangerously close to
squeaking. "I'm ready for, um, for anything!"
He chuckled. "Well, then, sharpen your claws and get your pretty tail over to the RWZ. I'll meet you there." With another chuckle, he hung up.
Sammy felt herself blushing and tried not to break into a silly grin. He'd remembered!
Still, though, it seemed odd, even to her. The RWZ wasn't where she'd have thought he'd suggest going for Valentine's Day...
Oh well. He probably wanted to surprise her. She nodded to herself. Yep, that had to be it.
She hung her phone back on her belt. "Time for me to go, mister Freak!" she said happily, bending forward to look into the dazed eyes of the Freak
Swiper whose chest she was perched upon. "I've got a date!"
"Nnnrrggh," the Freak replied. Sammy patted him on the cheek fondly.
"You Freaks are fun. I'll come back to play more later, okay?" She stepped lightly off the prone Swiper and looked around, getting her
bearings. "Bye!" she chirped, and blurred into motion, leaving the semi-conscious Freak behind.
Sammy arrived at the RWZ by way of the Atlas Park entrance, emerging from the portal at full speed and trusting her reflexes to let her dodge around any
slow-moving Vanguard or other heroes that might be wandering through. It was what she always did; after all, the base here was big, and the corridors were
always just about empty. It was perfect bounding territory -- down the hall, off the corner, up into the rafters, off the hanging lamp that was positioned
perfectly at the corner, and back down to the floor.
Except today it didn't work so well.
"Eeeep!" Sammy uttered as she frantically backpedaled. Too late. With a panicked yowl she plowed into a crowd of costumed crusaders from both sides
of the fence, bouncing off one who looked like a walking bridge abutment and coming to a startled stop on her back, looking up the (long!) legs of a scantily
clad stalker... who looked at Sammy with a raised eyebrow for a moment, their eyes meeting past the gentle curves of her hips, before saying,
"Well, hello there, hero. Usually I insist on getting a drink first, but I guess this isn't the D..."
Sammy blushed and scrambled out from under the woman. "No, no, I -- eeep!"
This time it was Derrick startling her. Purrfect Arrow melted out of thin air, wrapping one arm (and his tail, Sammy noted, whee!) around her possessively.
"She's with me," he said by way of explanation to the stalker, who sniffed.
"Boys and their toys," she said, flicking her fingers at them dismissively.
"C'mon, kitten," Derrick said with a grin, leading Sammy through the press of the crowd. The gathered vigilantes were clustered in groups,
checking weapons, exchanging friendly taunts and advice, and preparing for... something. Several heroes stood on platforms that lifted them above the crowd,
but Sammy was still too startled and confused to make sense of what they were saying. Something about pylons? What?
"Hey!" she spluttered indignantly, twisting in Derrick's arms to look back the direction they'd come. "Did she just call me a
-toy-?!" she hissed. Her claws extended slightly.
"Calm down, kitten, it's all good," Derrick said soothingly. "Everyone's on edge, is all. She didn't mean anything by it."
Sammy scowled, but let it drop. Then, her mood brightening, she leaned on Derrick and tried not to let her excitement show. "So what's the s-special
thing you've got planned?"
"We're going to attack the Rikti ship out there," he said. Sammy blinked.
"We're going to WHAT?!"
Derrick grinned down at her and remained silent until they reached one of the small, scattered platforms. A man in bottle-green combat armor stood there,
carrying a rifle with an ease that Sammy found unnerving. His expressionless visor nodded at them once in greeting. Sammy racked her brain, but came up only
with a fleeting memory of him meeting Aunt Ifrit at the door once for some sort of supergroup business -- Aunt Ifrit's supergroup, not Alice's.
Sell-Sword was his full hero name, and he never took off the helmet; that's all she remembered.
"Hey, Sword," Derrick said, before giving Sammy a quick hug and hopping up onto the platform itself. He grinned down at her again, then shifted his
eyes to the milling crowd. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and loud. "Team two, form up over here!" he shouted.
"Here," Sell-Sword said quietly, handing Sammy an earbud. "It's tuned to the command frequency already. Just stick with us, do what the
raid leader says, and you'll be fine."
"We're going to attack the WHAT?" she repeated, glancing dubiously at the earbud before fitting it into her ear -- carefully; she didn't like
things in her ears, they were very sensitive. As it settled into place a voice came through clearly, in mid-sentence:
"--all out the pylon number, we all converge and demolish it, and so on. Once that shield drops we form up on the upper hull and we'll go from there.
Any questions, talk to your team lead. We're moving out in one minute!"
"De- Arrow," Sammy said plaintively, "what are we doing?"
"Get your bad guy shredding face on, kitten," Derrick responded. "We're taking down that big bad mothership out there, and I can't
think of anyone better I'd want at my back."
Sammy blushed, then straightened her shoulders. "R-right!" She snapped a salute. "Purrfect Scrapper, ready to shred, sir!" She giggled.
"That's the spirit," a new voice chimed in. A big man with a flowing cape stood next to her. "Call me Cap'n," he said with a
wink, holding out one hand in friendly greeting. "Arr!"
"Arr?" Sammy inquired, shaking his hand.
Cap'n nodded. "Arr," he said solemnly. He looked up at Arrow. "These Rikti have got one hell of a parking ticket waiting for them.
Let's go deliver it!"
"MOVE OUT!" the voice on the earbud said.
The gathered crowd, heroes and villains alike, spilled out into the streets with a wordless roar.
For Sammy, the next hour was the wildest ride she'd ever been on. The pylons that generated the force field protecting the downed Rikti vessel were sturdy
-- she'd made the mistake once of taking a swipe at one in passing and nearly been sent to the hospital as a result -- but against the combined might of
dozens, if not hundreds, of heroes, they each fell in mere moments. More time was spent moving between pylons than in actually taking them down.
And then the last one fell, and with it, the shield.
This, Sammy realized as she concentrated on fighting, on staying alive and swiping at every Rikti in sight, this is CRAZY!
"Sammy! MAGUS!" Derrick yelled, his voice coming in over the earbud on the team channel in her ear. Amid the din of combat, with energy pulses and
explosions and screams and battle cries and shrieks of the wounded and everything else, she'd never have heard him otherwise. She looked up, idly
deflecting a swipe from a Headman's sword, and saw the catman standing on top of a fallen Rikti, aiming his arrow at an odd-looking Rikti who was laying
heroes out left and right.
She -moved-, blurring the distance between herself and the Magus, and caught him in a flying tackle, knocking them both to the ground as she began trying to
dismember him in flurry of claw swipes. Whatever he was doing in response didn't seem to affect her, and she was just beginning to think this would be
-easy- when he whipped out a big sword and clobbered her with it. She rolled back to her feet and returned the favor, knocking the Magus down. While it was
on its back she spun and dealt with an annoying Communications Officer who had been pestering her from behind; when she turned around again, the Magus was
stomping determinedly towards Derrick.
"Another Magus," Sell-Sword hissed over the comm, his rifle laying down suppressive fire.
"BUSY!" Sammy yelled, hoping the earbud transmitted as well as recieved. The Magus had friends who wanted to play, and she needed to get clear of
them so she could pounce on that stupid Magus again before it used up all of Derrick's nine lives.
"LEAVE! THE CAT! ALONE!" she yelled, leaping and landing on the Magus' back and digging her claws into its helmet. If THAT didn't get its
attention, she didn't know what would. It turned, trying to face her, swiping ineffectually at her where she clung to its back.
Then another bomb went off, and Sammy found herself flying. Clear over the side of the ship, in fact. She bounced and rolled and came to her feet, shook the
helmet -- head? -- of the Magus off her claws, snarled, and leapt back into the fray.
It was over.
The halls were clearing rapidly -- some off to continue the fight, some to relax and unwind, some for parts unknown. The medical bay was full to bursting, but
the nurses and doctors there were used to this kind of thing and were putting out-of-commission heroes back on their feet like clockwork.
Sammy sat on an ammo crate near a Vanguard robot and tried to get her breathing back under control. Her muscles twitched; she couldn't recall a time when
she'd gone all-out like that for so long. She stared at the Rikti ichor crusting her claws and frowned. This wasn't exactly -- oh, let's face it,
wasn't -remotely- -- what she'd had in mind when Derrick had called.
It had been kinda -fun-, she had to admit, but not at all what couples -- they were a couple, right? She hoped they were, but then again, given -this-, maybe
he didn't think so?
"Hey, Kitten."
Sammy looked up and gasped. Derrick was wearing an immaculate white shirt with a red vest, and tailored black slacks. He looked like a valet from a
particularly nice restaurant... or perhaps, Sammy thought, noting the understated gold cufflinks and other decorative bits, the guy the valets parked the car
-for-.
"Wow," she breathed, and he grinned.
"Like it?"
"Wow," she said again, nodding.
"I've got this party -- fancy thing, all formalwear, you know how it is -- that I have to attend in a little while." He made a show of examining
his fingernails. "You wouldn't by chance like to come with, would you?"
She twitched. "A... a formal party?" she said wonderingly. "With dancing and music and stuff?"
He nodded. "Food, too. It's a very highbrow thing, I wouldn't go if I didn't have to, but..." he shrugged. "Since I do have to
go, I'd like it very much if you came along."
Sammy nodded hesitantly. "Formal, you said?"
Derrick smiled. "Yeah. Don't worry, you've got time to change. It starts in a couple hours, right over there." He pointed down the hall
at wooden double doors. "That's the entrance to the VIP area, where it's being held. Give me a ring when you're ready and I'll meet you
there?"
Sammy nodded dumbly. "O-okay." The -VIP- area? That sounded... important. Derrick leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.
"Thanks, Kitten, you're a lifesaver." He turned and left.
As soon as Derrick was out of sight, Sammy sat bolt upright in terror. A -formal- party! She didn't -have- anything for a formal party -- clothes were
something she wore to keep her fur from getting messed up, or because it was fun. She clawed desperately for her phone, nearly dropping it in her haste to
speed-dial a number she'd only used a couple of times before.
"Aunt Sylia? HAAAALP!"
"Calm down, Samantha, we have plenty of time." Sylia smiled gently at the over-excited catgirl. Sammy returned her calm gaze with a frantic,
pleading, bewildered look.
"But we've only got an hour left and I'm not even done shaving yet and I don't even know how to put on that that whatever it is you've got
on that hanger, the one over there behind the door, and I'm not going to look good and Derrick will be disappointed and --"
"I've seen this before. She won't shut up until you startle her," Nene put in helpfully. "Like this." As Sammy wailed and
fretted, Nene reached out, secured a light grip on the frantically swishing tail, and ran her hand backwards along its length.
"-- and it'll be all my faulAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Sammy broke off her panic-fueled rant and leaped free of Nene's grip. "AUNT NENE!"
"Well, we had to shut you up somehow," Nene pointed out reasonably. "Or you -will- be late."
"MY tail! No touch!"
"You don't complain when Arrow touches it."
Sammy blushed and opened her mouth to respond.
"Girls," Sylia said, still calm but with steel in her tone. Nene grinned and mimed zipping her lips, while Sammy forced herself to stand still, her
mouth snapping shut on whatever she'd been about to say.
"That's better," Sylia continued. "Now, then. If I'm understanding the situation correctly, you have a date with a young gentleman in
just short of an hour, to attend a formal party being held in the VIP area of the Vanguard base. Correct?"
Sammy blinked, then nodded. Sylia returned it briskly. "Good! Now, I've brought a selection in here with me, which should let us create something
suitable. Please hold still, we'll need your measurements if we're to tailor it properly..."
Nene leaned back against a cabinet and watched her boss -- if in name only -- go to work. It was strange, observing Sylia make use of the same traits and
abilities that made her a good leader for the Sabres in a field so totally different. The phrase 'vigilante fashion' swam through her mind and she
snorted.
"Hmm," Sylia was saying. "I think... yes. Red does look good on you, Samantha, we'll make use of it. And the black. Being comfortable in
what you wear is just as important as how it fits, so we'll use the same colors you prefer normally." Sylia turned to Nene, motioning her aside and
retrieving a bottle after a moments searching from inside the cabinet. She handed that to Sammy with a flourish. "This body wash will take care of the
fur. Right through there is my private shower. Go on, go on!" After Sammy vanished into the bath, Sylia turned to Nene with a small smile on her face.
"She's really worked up over this, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she's got her tail in a twist over him, that's for sure." Nene chuckled.
"Mmm. Well, I've got her measurements for the tailoring. And a manicure is indicated, I think. Would you be so kind as to get the angle grinder
from my workshop?"
Nene saluted. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!"
Sylia shook her head and chuckled as she bent over the garments she'd chosen and began marking the alteration lines.
"Say, Sylia," Nene said thoughtfully, pausing by the door with an impish grin.
"Hmm?"
"Is that thing on the hanger behind the door for you, or Priss?"
"Go get the angle grinder, Nene."
Derrick was standing where he'd said he'd be, by the doors leading to the VIP area, glancing at his watch and conversing quietly with Sell-Sword --
whose ludicrious green helmet clashed horribly with his rather dashing tuxedo -- and a woman Sammy didn't recognize from behind, with long black hair
flowing down her back. Sammy took a deep breath and twitched at the hem of her jacket. Behind her, Nene chuckled and urged her forward from the portal.
"Go on, silly, you look great."
A quiet mew escaped. "Are you sure?" Sammy said. "I don't look silly?"
"Sylia did a number on you. If anyone calls that outfit silly, they're either blind or they have the fashion sense of a Carnie."
Sammy giggled and took another deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready, I think. Eep. Wish me luck, Aunt Nene!"
"Why? You don't need it." With another gentle push, Nene sent Sammy on her way.
Sammy approached the group shyly, pausing as Derrick looked her way and noticed her. His tail twitched in surprise and his face broke out into a smile.
"What do you think?" she said, watching his face carefully. He blinked and opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again.
"Simple, but elegant. It suits you," Sell-Sword put in, nodding. The dark-haired woman -- Sammy didn't recognize her -- cocked her head and
directed a puzzled look at Sword, as if suprised. Sammy shared the sentiment; she hadn't thought the man behind the visor even noticed things like that.
She caught sight of herself in the mirrored faceplate as Sword looked her up and down, and once again was startled by the image staring back at her.
A black long-sleeved jacket with intricate designs in red at the cuffs, and a red lace-and-mesh top underneath. By itself, the top would have been lingerie;
under the jacket, it was... something else. She wasn't sure how Aunt Sylia knew just how far to go, but the effect was pronounced. Below the neatly-cut
open jacket, a black skirt with a red tiger-stripe pattern clung to her hips and was more comfortable than Sammy would have guessed; even though it reached her
knees and was skin-tight, she had no problems moving. She blushed lightly as the men's gaze reached her legs and started back up; she'd never worn
stockings before, but Aunt Sylia had insisted that what was underneath the clothes needed to look as good as, if not better than, the clothes themselves. She
wasn't sure, but she suspected that the stockings, and the lacy belt holding them up, were far more expensive than the rest of the outfit combined.
"You look great," Derrick said at last. "Just... wow."
The dark-haired woman turned and regarded Sammy with an amused grin. "Onyx Blast, pleased to meet you," she said, holding out a friendly hand.
"Call me Rhea."
Sammy stared, puzzled, as her hand automatically responded and Onyx gave it a firm shake. Her nose cut through the various odors in the base and caught a
whiff of a familiar perfume; that, and the woman's own scent, triggered a very vivid image in her mind.
"Miss Rhea?" Sammy blurted. "What are -you- doing here? And what happened to your cat?"
Onyx jerked a thumb at Sell-Sword. "I'm with Short Dark and Silent, here." Then Sammy's other question visibly registered, and Onyx dropped
her face into her palm. "... and we haven't met, no matter what it looks like." She sighed. "Sword? Remind me to smack you, afterwards.
You could have warned the poor girl. They're in the same supergroup, it only makes sense."
Sell-Sword shrugged, his face hidden behind the mask -- though Sammy suspected he was grinning.
"I'm confused," Sammy announced.
"Don't worry about it, you'll get a headache," Onyx said dismissively. "(Christ but that girl gets around,)" she added under her
breath. Since nobody else seemed to have noticed -- though Derrick's tail was twitching in amusement -- Sammy assumed she wasn't supposed to have
heard it. She sighed. People always assumed the ears were just for show!
"This Rhea is not the same Rhea you know, kitten," Derrick put in helpfully.
Sword adjusted his cufflinks. "The party has begun. We should get moving."
Derrick grinned and offered his arm to Sammy -- who for her part had to reach way back into her memories of the days at the Wilde Home and the etiquette
courses she'd mostly skipped to remember what she was supposed to -do- with it. She settled her hand lightly and watched as Onyx and Sword paired off,
checking each other's attire with an attention to detail that had Sammy frowning in puzzlement -- the two of them looked like they were getting ready for a
mission, not a party.
"Ready, Kitten?" Derrick whispered, that chuckle still coming through his voice. She shivered and tried to remember not to purr.
"I hope so!" she whispered back, squeezing his arm. "I've never been to a f-formal party before."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, bringing a startled mew to her lips. "You'll do fine."
The doors opened and they went inside.
Rhea regarded the milling diplomats, high-ranking military men, and powerful civilians with a critical eye as she nibbled on a tasty bit of something from the
buffet table and tried to look innocently curious. Sword was off getting a drink and quietly scanning that corner of the room. They were supposed to guard
the Lady Grey... who hadn't shown up yet. Personally, Rhea figured the Lady was probably attending a different party, one far more entertaining than this
conference was turning out to be.
Still, though, their job was to keep an eye out for people who were out of the ordinary... and in a room full of superheroes and Rikti in addition to the
normal run-of-the-mill VIPs, that was a more difficult task than it sounded.
One in particular stood out, but mostly because he was all but -leering- at her. She sighed. It wasn't that she minded being looked at -- and, let's
face it, she thought wryly, if you had body image issues you wouldn't be wearing -this- outfit! -- it was that he was being so obvious about it.
"(Spotted anything?)" Swords voice whispered in her ear. She jumped.
"(Will you -stop- that?!)" she hissed back at him, smiling and taking the proffered drink. "(You keep sneaking up on me.)"
"(Pay better attention and I won't.)"
Rhea sighed. "(Any news from the others?)"
"(Arrow just got word that the Lady Grey is taking longer than expected. He's going to go check the security computer and see where she's
at.)" Sword raised the wineglass he held to his faceplate and paused, as if sipping, then lowered it again. Rhea snorted and tried not to laugh.
"(I see you dug out the -formal- helmet, Sword, very nice. It's very flattering. You should have buffed it, though. I can't quite see myself
clearly in the -faceplate-.)"
Sword ignored the jibe, drifting off towards another corner of the room with a muttered, "(Stay sharp,)" over their private comm.
Rhea sipped at her own drink and tried not to grin. After a short while, the catgirl -- Kitten? No, that was what the other cat called her. Sammy, that was
it -- Sammy approached her hesitantly. Behind the catgirl, Fusionette -- wearing an outfit that Rhea herself would have thought twice about -- was engaging
several people in animated conversation.
"So, um... are you two on a date, too?" Sammy asked after a moment, standing next to Rhea.
"What? No!" Rhea stared at the catgirl, aghast, before remembering where she was and putting a more social look on her face. "Why would you
think we were? This is a security detail!"
Sammy blinked. "Um, well, there's the dress you're wearing, at least I think it's a dress though it's mostly just straps but ANYway
it's very nice and -I- wouldn't wear something that expensive if I thought it'd get shot up and Sword's in a -suit-, he never wears anything
but armor usually and you two are always together and even though I know you usually like girls oh wait that was Miss Rhea except you smell just like her and
you stand just like her and --"
"Contact!" Sword's voice broke into both their ears as he broadcast -- Sammy winced as her earbud completely derailed her monologue, for which
Rhea was duly if somewhat distractedly grateful.
"Now why would they put the security computer in the vehicle garage?" Arrow's voice said disgustedly, followed by the thump of high explosive.
"Seal the room and get back here, I need a hand!"
Sammy and Rhea stared at each other for a moment before dashing off. The catgirl dropped to all fours and -ran- -- a neat trick in heels, Rhea noted absently
-- turning into a blur, streaking through the doors and neatly dodging around Sword, who was fading from view as his stealth systems engaged. Rhea took to the
air in a haze of charged particles and followed, taking a moment to key in the override codes that dropped an armor panel down over the entrance to protect the
attendees from whatever was happening.
Then she hurried to catch up to the others, following the sound of a major furball in progress.
It was ruined.
Her first formal date ever, and it was ruined.
Sammy swiped dejectedly at a Nemesis automaton from where she crouched amidst a fallen group of them. She blinked as it twitched, and finished the job with a
sigh. As the robot shuddered into final silence, she scowled.
Stupid Nemesis. Even if the party hadn't been -fun-, she'd almost-kinda enjoyed it -- even though Fusionette had acted all stuck-up and
self-important, and even though Derrick had all but abandoned her not five minutes through the door. She supposed she couldn't blame him -- he'd had a
job to do, sure, but she figured he'd have said something if he expected it. He'd probably thought it was going to be a cakewalk -- I mean, if anybody
really suspected Nemesis would attack, they'd have had armored guards and tanks and things like that, right? And he wouldn't have said "dress
formal" if he'd been -expecting- to have to work. It was probably like on TV, when someone was babysitting and invited a friend along to keep them
company, because everyone knew nothing was going to happen.
Except it always did, but that's just TV, Sammy noted to herself.
She sighed.
"Hey, Kitten, nice work back there." Derrick came around to corner and looked down at her. "I... I... uh..." He coughed delicately and
cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away to stare at the ceiling instead. "I, uh, maybe you shouldn't sit like that wearing that outfit?"
Sammy frowned and looked down, then hastily leapt to her feet as her cheeks flared bright red. "Eeep! I'mnotusedtowearingthingslikethis!"
Derrick's lips twitched as he gathered her into a hug. "Well, I'm not -complaining- about the view," he remarked innocently.
"(meep)," Sammy said very quietly, eyes wide -- but a purr was starting in her chest despite her best efforts to contain it.
"You did good," Derrick repeated softly. "Thanks a lot, Kitten."
"N-no problem," she managed.
Derrick hugged her again, then stepped back. "I have to go," he said. "Cleanup from this... mess." He chuckled ruefully. "I'll
give you a call later?"
Sammy took a deep breath -- he WILL NOT see me cry! -- and nodded. "Okay!" she said as brightly as she could.
He smiled at her and left. As his tail flickered and vanished around the corner, she dropped into a crouch again, hugging her knees. She stayed that way
until the Vanguard cleanup crew arrived to remove the automatons, then rose and made her way silently to the base teleportal.
From there it was a quick stop to change into the street clothes she kept in her locker at the base -- she found time to marvel that whatever the silky-smooth
stockings were made of, they'd held up without a blemish to the rigors of combat -- and then back home.
"Well, I wasn't expecting YOU home this early, after sending you off dressed like that." Nene teased as Sammy entered the apartment. She blinked
at her adopted niece -- daughter, some might say, though Sammy seemed reluctant to take that final step -- and added, more seriously, "Hey... is
everything okay?"
Sammy nodded. "Yeah... we, uh, we finished the mission. Aunt Sylia's stuff held up really well, I've got to get a bit of machine oil out of the
jacket but the rest of it is fine." Sammy took a deep breath. "The first time he called I thought it was a date but it really wasn't but that
was okay, it was a lot of fun and he needed my help and it was all good you know? and the second time, well, I'm sure he -meant- it as a date but then
stupid Nemesis showed up and crashed the party and now he's stuck cleaning up after THAT and I think he's just as bummed about it as I am 'cause he
didn't even ask for my help, he just said he'd call me later, I mean, I'm kinda bummed about the party too but it's probably worse for him
'cause it was his idea in the first place, and I know Valentine's Day is just a silly holiday anyway but it's all messed up now and it's not
FAIR and I think I'm going to go take a nap now, have fun on your date tonight Aunt Nene, you and Aunt Ifrit should go somewhere special..."
As she spoke, Sammy began edging down the hall; Nene half-rose to stop her but by the time she'd recovered from the verbal barrage Sammy was already in her
bedroom and closing the door. Nene sighed and sat back down.
I sometimes think she talks like that on purpose just to keep people guessing, she thought sourly. Then she picked up the phone -- just as it rang. She
blinked at it, then answered. "Hello?"
"Miss Romanova? This is Derrick."
Nene grinned -- a bit ruefully. "I was just thinking of calling you."
There was a moment's pause. "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."
Nene nodded. "Yeah, well... Sammy's had a rough day, and whether you intended to or not, you're at the heart of it." She smirked.
"You do NOT want Ifrit going all mama bear on you, y'know. I've seen it. It gets messy."
He chuckled. "That's more terrifying than you know." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's what I was calling about, actually. I
want to surprise Kit-- Sammy, but I need your help to pull it off."
Nene blinked as a smile grew on her face. This sounded intriguing! "What's your plan?"
"Well, it's like this..."
Sammy roused from her doze -- not a true nap, but not true wakefulness either -- as someone knocked on her door. She thought about ignoring them, but that
would be rude -- just because her day sucked didn't mean she had to take it out on... on... on whoever was knocking. She untangled her legs from the
sheets and rose to open the door.
Aunt Nene stood there, in her armor, her helmet held in her hands. Before Sammy could say anything, she spoke.
"We need your help!"
Sammy blinked. "Um, okay?"
"Quick, get that outfit Sylia gave you back on! It'll have to do, you don't have any other formal clothes, right?"
Sammy blinked again. "Uh, no? Aunt Nene, what's going on?"
"The Sabres have a mission we need to pull off, and it's starting -now-!" She shook her head exasperatedly. "No time! Get dressed!"
She spun away from the door, then paused. "C'mon, Sammy, please! We really need you!"
Sammy stared down the hall after her aunt for a moment, then eep'ed and dived for her closet.
"Here we are," Nene said. Sammy stepped out of the van, accompanied by all of her 'aunts'; Typhoon Sabre hit the gas and the van left them
there in an alleyway. Net Sabre fiddled with her wrist computer for a moment, then nodded.
"On time, barely," she said, her electronically-filtered voice sounding odd to Sammy, who knew better than most who was under that armored shell.
"Well done, ladies," Silicon said. "Take your positions. On our signal, you go in, Sammy. Understand?"
"I - I think so?" Sammy knew she didn't understand a thing, really, but her instructions were clear: she was to go in and tell the maitre'd
that she was there to see Don Flecha -- whoever that was. If the man was there, she'd be escorted to his table, and then the Sabres would move in and help
her kick his butt. Easy, right?
"You'll do fine, kiddo," Aunt Priss said. She clapped Sammy companionably on the shoulder, then flicked her visor down and became Street Sabre.
"Sabres, go!" Silicon said, and the armored women scattered. Sammy waited.
A light from the roof blinked at her, catching her attention. Belatedly she realized it was the siganl. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to
herself, and entered the restaurant -- a quiet Italian place that she'd never noticed before.
"I'm h-here to see Don Flecha," she said to the impassive, balding man with the mustache behind the podium at the entrance.
"Of course, madame." His spine was ramrod straight as he snapped his fingers, causing another impeccably dressed man, this one a waiter, perhaps, to
appear out of nowhere. "Madame is here to see... the Don," the maitre'd informed the newcomer, who blinked and became very nervous.
Sammy gulped.
"The Don? Are you -- I mean, of course! Right this way, madame, if you'd care to come with me." The waiter gulped and shot a panicked glance
at the maitre'd, who lifted his chin and urged him on with a flick of his fingertips.
Sammy gulped. What had she gotten into? She flexed her fingers as her claws itched to slide out of their own accord.
She followed the waiter through the restaurant, which was busy but not crowded; the decor was subtle but elegant, dark woods and leather and oil paintings.
Sammy gulped and hoped the restaurant carried the usual insurance, because if not it was going to be very expensive after the Sabres and her got done shredding
this Don character.
"Ah, your table, madame," the waiter intoned, indicating a quiet booth in a darkened corner. There was a man already seated there, wearing a hooded
cloak -- she couldn't see his face and the smells -- the overwhelmingly wonderful yummy smells, she realized, as her stomach growled -- from the kitchen
were hiding any sort of clue from that direction.
She suddenly realized she had no way to signal the Sabres, then squelched it. Aunt Nene would have thought of that, she just had to wait for them to arrive.
She let herself be seated. The waiter bowed -- he was -terrified- of the man in the cloak, she noted -- and left.
For a few moments there was silence. Then the Don nodded graciously and pushed a small box across the table towards her. "Open it," he said
gruffly.
She glanced suspiciously at him -- where were the Sabres? Was she going to have to shred him by herself? -- and slowly did so.
Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a small golden pendant in the shape of a heart with an arrow going through it, on a fine chain. She blinked at it,
completely befuddled...
... and suddenly a tail was caressing her calf under the table. A tail she knew all too well. She raised her eyes to see a grinning catman peering at her,
having thrown back his hood.
"DERRICK?"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Kitten," he said, and laughed as she leaped across the table in a tackle-hug.
The dinner was amazing, Sammy thought. She couldn't pronounce half the dishes they'd ordered and eaten, and she didn't care. She smiled happily
to herself as she swirled the last of the wine in her glass.
"So what's next?" she said, meeting Derrick's eyes across the table. He was sitting -- no, lounging was the better word for it, Sammy
thought -- quietly, watching her with a small smile on his face. She sipped at her wine, wondering just what was going on behind his sparkling eyes.
Derrick cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "I was thinking... we never did get a chance to dance, earlier. There's a place just down
the street..."
Dancing! He wanted to take her dancing!
Sammy set down her glass and stood. "Well, let's go!"
Derrick matched her grin and rose, offering his arm, which she gladly took. They left the restaurant and walked slowly down the street to the club Derrick had
mentioned, enjoying the night air.
Once inside, Sammy paused and tugged lightly on Derrick's arm. "Hey," she said, to get his attention.
"What is it, Kitten?"
She took a deep breath and looked up into his face. "I, um... don't know how to dance."
Derrick blinked, his face taking on a rueful expression. "Well, that's going to be a problem," he said. When Sammy looked at him quizzically,
he shrugged. "I don't know how to dance either," he explained. "Somehow, it just never came up before..."
Sammy looked thoughtful. "I guess... we'll just have to teach each other, then." She nodded firmly. "Let's go!"
She tugged him out onto the dance floor as the band struck up a new number, glancing back once over her shoulder to see a bemused smile on his face.
The moon was high in the sky, competing with the War Walls to cast a pale glow over the city, as the two of them slowly made their way along the sidewalk.
Sammy rested her head on Derrick's shoulder, their tails wound around each other's waist. She sighed happily.
"This is my place here," Derrick remarked quietly, coming to a stop. She nodded.
"It's nice," she said. It could've been the worst hovel in the city and she would have thought it looked nice. Her legs were twitching from
the long night of dancing, and she wanted to sit down, or better yet, lay down, or best of all, lay down with Derrick beside her...
She blushed, grateful that the darkness most likely hid it from his sight.
"If, uh, if you need to get home, I'll understand," Derrick said.
"Aunt Nene's probably waiting up for me," Sammy said. Even to her own ears her voice sounded noncommittal.
"She's just worried about you," he responded.
"Yeah," Sammy said, and giggled. "I'm out with a devious criminal mastermind, after all."
A quick flash of a grin. "The notorious kingpin, Don Fleche."
Sammy nodded. "He's a really bad guy. Terrible."
Derrick leaned down, his lips close to hers. "Horrible," he whispered.
"Absolutely rotten," she replied softly, and kissed him.
Nene glanced at her watch -- 4:42 A.M. -- and turned her attention back to the door as the deadbolt clicked and the handle turned. Sammy entered, a dreamy
expression on her face, and shut it quietly behind her. The catgirl turned and caught sight of Nene in her bathrobe.
"Oh, hi, Aunt Nene," she said, smiling.
"Talk about the cat that got the canary," Nene said, reaching out and ruffling Sammy's hair. "You look like you had a good night."
"Mm-hmm," Sammy agreed.
"'Mm-hmm'? You don't get in until almost five and that's all you've got to say?" Nene's tone was joking, but at the same
time, she -was- mildly concerned. Sure, they'd had The Talk, and sure, Sammy was more than capable of defending herself, but still...
"Nope," Sammy replied, a small smile flitting across her face.
"... well? Don't keep me in suspense! What? What happened?!"
"Good night, Aunt Nene," Sammy said, and headed down the hall to her bedroom.
Nene stared after her. "Hey, wait a minute -- oooh!"
Ifrit stepped out of the kitchen, her lush curves barely hidden behind the nightgown she'd hastily thrown on. "I told you she would be fine,"
the fey noted with wry humor.
"... she's being -discreet-," Nene said wonderingly, staring down the hall. "Sammy. Discreet. These words, they do not go together."
She blinked. "-And- she didn't answer my question!"
Ifrit giggled, laying her hand lightly on her lover's back. "C'mon back to bed, dear."
"Well, at least -you're- acting normal," Nene mock-grumbled as Ifrit led her down the hall. "I still want to know -what happened-."
"No you don't."
"Yes, I do, I really really do!"
Ifrit laughed lightly. "I'm sure you can guess."
"But I don't -know-," Nene wailed.
"Then ask her again in the morning, you know Sammy can't keep a secret. But right now I'd appreciate your attention being focused... elsewhere,
dear."
Nene let out a mock sigh as Ifrit dragged her into the bedroom. "Didn't you get enough earlier?"
"It's Valentine's."
"Mm... I suppose... hey! No tickling!"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs