Urban Jungle (Open)

The Treasures of World Unity Fundraising Gala. That was quite a mouthful, though Barbara had heard worse in the past. However, despite the name, it was a lovely and thoughtful effort that anything of this sort was being put together. Though she had been in New York, word of the gala managed to reach her through various social circles; both in the academical area as well as the gossip from monied people, because nothing made the latter group feel more self-righteous than donating money to causes they would otherwise ignore. While she would normally pass on such events, Barbara couldn’t help but be interested this time around. It would allow her to admire the works and cultures from countries she had either not yet visited or been unable to return to due to the war. It also gave her the opportunity to suss out any potential clients or see if there are any new trends she could take advantage of on the archeological black market.

Barbara drifted amongst the various displays, taking her time in admiring the pieces and appreciating even the most minute detail than many would overlook. Naturally, since this was America, any colleagues that would know her were few and far between, which she was grateful for. She was here to enjoy the evening, not be stuck in dry, scholarly debates on the best methods of excavating and documenting a site.

As she wandered, Barbara did overhear tidbits from conversations as she passed them, one of which sounded like a young man trying to nonchalantly pick up a lady by showing his knowledge on dragons and, more surprisingly, Africa. Barbara glanced at the young man as she walked by. He was handsome, but he didn’t seem the type to go traipsing through the Dark Continent, but then again, neither did she when she was all dressed up. Perhaps looks were deceiving when it came to this playboy, she thought with a smirk.

Continuing her stroll, a scent caught Barbara off-guard enough to cause her to pause. Dog? In one of Metropolis’ best hotels, as well as in a private event? No, surely she had to be mistaken, or perhaps one of the attendees owned an animal that didn’t enjoy the thought of being alone for the night and jumped up on them as they left. Still, she sipped from her champagne and took a deep breath, just to be sure. There it was again. Fleeting and faint, the scent wasn’t mingling with the rest of the room, but rather it seemed to be staying in one place. Curiosity having gotten the better of her, Barbara retraced her steps, trying to pinpoint just where the canine scent was coming from. Much to her surprise, the trail led her back to the playboy who was now by his lonesome and seemingly talking to himself.

“If you’re that worried about being up all night, might I suggest some chamomile tea before bed, or the smell of lavender,” she offered. “Either of those help a person to sleep.” But Barbara doubted that this man was the tea drinking sort.

The canine scent wasn’t on the man in question, but it was practically on top of him, or rather, beneath him. She would only be able to tell for certain if she ‘accidentally’ dropped something and knelt to pick it up. But then again, that would be cheating and she didn’t feel like catching him red-handed if he actually did sneak a dog in here. Barbara smirked a little at that thought, letting it appear that it was due to him answering her. “If you’re concerned about me thinking you odd for talking to yourself, don’t be. I’ve known many intellectuals that do such a thing. Talking out loud often lets you figure out problems you couldn’t before.”

Now that she got a proper look at him, Barbara could see that the was a tall and handsome young man, blonde and blue-eyed, and who cut quite the figure in the suit he wore. He seemed to study her for a few moments longer than most men would, as if he were actually examining her rather than just looking over her appearance and assets, which intrigued Barbara just a bit. Perhaps he was more than just a playboy seeking a night together with a beautiful woman.

“Dr. Barbara Ann Minerva, Mr. Walker. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said, politely shaking his hand. “I must admit, my knowledge of the Seven Nations is only cursory, which sad due to the fact that love Africa. But then again, living tribes and their culture aren’t truly my area of expertise. I specialize mainly in archeology.” What she did know about the Seven Nations was mainly from newsreels, academic papers, and rare eye witness accounts. They were apparently an interesting mix of old and new traditions, but for obvious reasons, it took Barbara by surprise that they would send such a European-looking man to represent them rather than one of more native stock, unless there was someone else accompanying him.

“You must have quite the respect and high standing among those people, Mr. Walker, to be here representing them. May I ask just how that came about?” Curiosity was said to kill that cat, after all. “As for why I am here, as I said, I have a love for archeology and various artifacts. I donated money towards this event in order to gain access and admire the work here. If I had any pieces to contribute, I would have brought them along.”

ooc: Go right ahead with your plan of action. I will gladly play along.

“Even if the displays aren’t relevant to my work, I still enjoy looking at them all, Mr. Walker. All cultures are interesting. They can have such close similarities, even when they are halfway around the world from each other.” What Barbara said was true. Even with her side hobby and how much money it brought in, she could still lose herself in the wonder of pieces being displayed in a museum or at a gala. “If you’ve brought a piece or two here, I think I might enjoy hearing you tell me about it.” Apparently, her not flirting, even in the slightest way, was something impossible for her to do.

When Kit explained why he was helping the Seven Nations, Barbara was surprised by his answer. She took a moment and studied him a bit more in detail, searching for something she wasn’t sure of. His story of indebtedness didn’t quite parallel Barbara’s with the jungle god, but she did feel some sort of kinship when he spoke. Working with African people for generations, having that amount of trust with them while working off a debt, and guaranteeing protection to people. An idea then clicked in her head. “You’re their guardian,” she said with a wry little smile, almost teasing him. Maybe that was why she felt something towards this man, like calling to like and all that sort of belief. The only problem was that Barbara didn’t have any tribe to guard. Urzkartaga’s worshippers died out a long time ago.

She had heard something, but, trying to appear normal, Barbara had ignored the sound until the intruders burst through the windows. She sneered upon seeing the masks they all wore; how terribly insulting and degrading to those works…. if they were the real things. And despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing much in terms of expensive jewelry, Barbara was not about to give the carnelian set up to anyone. Had Kit not stepped in front of her, she would have confronted the masked man herself, but she did enjoy the effort and sense of chivalry from the young man, even with the dart gun pointed at him.

The white wolf was an unexpected addition until Barbara realized that it was what she smelled earlier. “Friend of yours, I take it?” she asked Kit as the beast began savaging one of the men. Arms suddenly grabbed her from behind and, whether the man thought she was Kit’s date and hoping to use her as a bargaining tool or something else, Barbara wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, she wasn’t about to let him take advantage of her. She rocked forward in the man’s grasp, hoping to obtain a little more leverage as she slammed the back of her head into his face, feeling something give. Was it the mask breaking or the man’s nose? She wasn’t sure, but his grip loosened, and she slipped away, only to whirl about and deliver a hard left hook to the cracked Venetian mask and sending the man tumbling. She might not have been a professional brawler, but one did have to learn something in order to stay safe while traveling. Of course, a stray dart whizzing by her ear made Barbara dive behind a nearby table. She was only human right now, and she dared not risk changing into her cat form, to with so many witnesses.

“Oh, I’m sure you could pass him off as a service dog,” Barbara shot back, hoping to add some levity to their current situation. The only problem was that Mr. Walker could see quite clearly. Perhaps they would buy him having some sort of stress disorder that requires an animal to be with him all the time. Either way, the wolf was clearly having a grand time with the thieves. Kit, however? Not so much.

Despite the majority of them escaping, there were two that still remained, and Barbara watched quietly as they were interrogated. It intrigued her with how much knowledge Mr. Walker had regarding bird feathers, particularly when they fletched darts. Picking up one of the discarded projectiles, Barbara examined it. He had quite the eye. Even she couldn’t tell off the bat that they were from a White Backed Vulture, and she knew African wildlife. However, it was clear that the discussion the two men were having didn’t involve bird-watching. A band of mercenaries or thieves, she wasn’t quite sure, but then again Africa had so many groups such as this that would crop up every once in a while, it was hard to keep track of them all. Often they wanted to conquer countries, provinces, or cities, snatching up land where they could, no matter how small or remote. They’d be kings of molehills if they thought it would mean something. But this made little sense. Even if the Vultures sought money or power, why would such a small group think that they could benefit it? A larger organization could easily come in and take over, unless their true numbers were hidden, like HYDRA. What was it with evil organizations and their tendency to use animals, both mythological and real, as their namesake?

“I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken, Mr. Walker. I am not a guardian,” she told him, lighting a cigarette. “I’m simply a woman whose profession sometimes takes her to parts of the world where civilization is a novel idea at best. Some native populations see an unaccompanied woman as a chance for mischief, thievery, or assault. I learned how to throw a punch and defend myself out of necessity. However,” she looked at the two men tied up. “If it were left up to me and these two men were caught running off a dig site with artifacts, the problem would be solved with a bullet to the head. I find that sort of thievery disgusting. They always go for the precious metals and gemstones, melting it down or cutting it apart and we end up losing a piece of history forever.” Despite what was said, Barbara saw nothing wrong with what she did as a side job. She was not some common thief. Every artifact found was carefully documented as if it were any other archeological find. In fact, most pieces were sent on ahead to museums and storage facilities, particularly if there was little or no interest for them in the current market. It was only the more exquisite pieces that were ‘misplaced’ or ‘improperly documented’. Barbara loved history, as she told Artie the first time they met. She just hated to see such glorious works stuck gathering dust and being unappreciated in some dark storage crate.

“I suppose those pieces they stole are gone then? Unless you can tell just where they went. Or…” Barbara began slowly stalking towards the bound men. “Perhaps we can get these two to give up a bit of information. Your dog seemed to enjoy chewing on the one. Why not let him continue while we dangle the other one out a broken window?” It was clear that Barbara was less than happy about the robbery, but most observers would take her words as empty threats to scare the men into talking, rather than realize she was being rather serious. “It might take a while for the police to get here. Let's have a bit of fun.”

Barbara was all too familiar with the Cairo Incident. She had read the articles in the paper about the entire event and, due to the treasures that were stolen, that was all her colleagues could talk about for a few weeks. However, she was also aware of what the press hadn’t published and what the public didn’t discuss. Vandal Savage had a reputation in the black market world, one that Barbara hoped she never would have to deal with. Perhaps that was partially why she rarely dealt in Egyptian artifacts, besides the fact that the Egyptian authorities were cracking down on would be thieves and grave-robbers. Savage’s preference for meteorites became well known after Cairo, and though she had yet to find any items made from ‘star-metal’, the moment such things were to be unearthed and verified, she would them sent immediately to him or his people. “Don’t even remind me of that… headline,” she said with a shiver. “The press had a field day with that.”

Barbara couldn’t help but chuckle as Kit and his pet toyed with the men. “I think claiming self defense is a perfectly reasonable explanation. Particularly when these men were party crashers.” She made sure to stay back and give Devil plenty of room to work his magic on the thieves. She had almost forgot how terrifying and fearsome predators were, especially when you were sitting on the ground, helplessly bound. It was almost an afterthought, but perhaps Barbara should have made the appearance of being a little fearful herself, rather than intrigued by what was going on. Then again, if asked, she could chalk it up to her experiences on the African savanna having dulled her fears. At least she refrained from petting Devil and telling him what a good boy he was once the thieves started squealing.

“Of course. Defending myself against intruders is one thing, but I’m not about to go galavanting about playing hero and chasing stolen goods. Metropolis already has a Superman and blue just isn’t my color. Besides, heels and heroics don’t mix,” Barbara told Kit with a good-natured smile. That was the truth, though. She wasn’t dressed to teach those men a lesson. That would come later, once she had given her statement and was dismissed by the police. The gallery name wasn’t familiar to Barbara, but it truly didn’t matter. She could easily ask the front desk of her hotel for a map, locate the gallery that way, and pay the men a little visit.

Naturally, most would think this was all due to justice, restoring law and order, and retrieving the stolen goods…. which was a perfectly good reason for doing such a thing, but truthfully, it was getting near Barbara’s monthly tribute to her husband, so why pass up the opportunity to hunt for Urzkartaga and present him with a kill? It’s not like anyone would miss these men. And, once that bit of responsibility was over with, she would make sure to notify the police as to where the stolen goods were.

Barbara was also helpful with the police, or at least as helpful as she could be considering the circumstances. As far as the police were concerned, she fell between the lines of the helpless guests, currently being seen after by the hotel staff or were trying to sell some sensationalized version of the robbery to any reporters that might have been lurking around, and Kit Walker, the only competent person there. Whether it was due to her accent or the fact that she was a woman, whatever information she gave them was taken with a grain of salt. Whatever answer she gave to a previous question was immediately questioned further and requiring greater detail. Why did she act alongside of Mr. Walker? Didn’t she know she could have been killed or endanger the lives of others due to her actions? Did she know what was stolen? Would she recognize it once it was recovered? What was her area of expertise? Who did she accompany to this gala? When her actual doctorate and professionality came into question, Barbara finally lost her patience.

“Are you honestly questioning my validity right now? Had I known that this would be the case, I’d have made sure to carry around my diploma at all times. I can’t help but notice how you aren’t giving me the same consideration as you gave Mr. Walker. Had it not been for both of our efforts, as well as his animal, the thieves would have made off with far much more and I doubt you would even have the two suspects you paraded out in handcuffs just now,” she firmly explained to the officer taking notes. He blinked before looking up from his pad.

“Ms. Minerva-” he began.

“Doctor,” she interrupted, sharply reminding him of her position.

“Doctor Minerva,” he corrected begrudgingly. “While we are grateful for your efforts, we are also grateful when we don’t have to cart a dead woman off to the morgue because she thought she could be a hero and ended up with a lead slug in her brain pan. Now, I don’t know what it’s like in England, but here in the U. S. of A., we do things differently. The next time you feel like taking the law into you own hands? Don’t. Just go find a telephone and let the professionals handle it.” Needless to say, the questioning ended right after that bit of advice. Barbara retrieved her coat and then wished Kit a good night, hoping that they would see each other again at a future, though less dangerous, event since they shared such similar interests. She also did what no other guest seemed willing to do, and gave Devil a brief scratch behind the ear, thanking him for his assistance.

Once back in her hotel room, Barbara contemplated her next bit of action. The front desk had been nice enough to provide a map of the city when she feigned interest in touring around Metropolis before leaving, and perusing through the phone book had provided the location of the gallery one of the masked men had mentioned. From where she was, it would definitely be a trek, but thankfully traveling over rooftops made for faster trips.

The change came on quickly this time, almost eagerly, leaving her body shivering in delight as the magic rippled over her skin. It was as if whatever made the change possible knew she had a mission or, more appropriately, a hunt to take part in. Opening her window, Barbara took the time to note her surroundings. The night was cool, and the streets below glittered with movement and activity. Being on one of the upper floors meant that it was a very long way down, and for a moment, the very human part of her shrank back at the idea of making the jump to the building across the street, but she could hardly go out the front door like this. Testing her grip on the decorative ledge just outside her window, Barbara found her claws dug in quite easily while still holding firm. As she concentrated, the fear melted away and before she knew what was happening, she had leapt into the open air.

It wasn’t a graceful landing. Her claws scrambled for purchase as she fell just a little short of the rooftop, but with it hardly deterred her. It was exhilarating, actually. Barbara judged the distance to be about fifty feet, give or take, and she had made it without a starting run. Incredible. But now was not the time to celebrate. She could tell Laura about this grand adventure later. Turning in the direction of the gallery, Barbara was off and running. Rooftops and flagpoles that stretched out from building edges became her own personal jungle gym, each gap between buildings becoming progressively easier to cross.

Eventually arriving at the gallery, Barbara began nosing about, trying to learn the layout and how many men were inside. The chemicals and other environmental smells did little to help her nose in this situation, causing her to get closer than she had preferred initially. However, the closer inspection revealed that someone else was here as well. A window was unlocked and opened, the glass by the lock having been cut away. Not one to ignore an opportunity, Barbara used it as an entrance as well. Once inside, she climbed upwards along the metal beams and supports that criss-crossed the interior of the roof.

If it hadn’t been for the glint of metal and a barely audible, to her ears at least, click of a cocked firearm, she might not have seen the man in purple. It seemed that Metropolis had a lot of heroes. He must have been the one who opened the window. Following the man’s line of sight, Barbara drew her attention on the thieves and their loot, a low growl escaping her as she moved into position above one of the unsuspecting men. The gasp of surprise he gave in response to the cat-woman landing on him was cut short once her claws found his throat.


*******
occ: Feel free to treat Cheetah as whatever you see fit, whether it be friend or foe. PM me if you need any other information.

The first kill was always the quickest and the quietest. She sunk her claws in deep, scratching the thief’s esophagus as she ripped his throat out. It was sorely tempting to linger there and enjoy both the hot blood and see the light fade from his eyes, but Barbara settled with a quick lick of her fingers. She could enjoy things later, when all the remaining thieves were dead or arrested. Which of the two ending would be more likely for the majority of these men, she couldn’t quite say, but she had the feeling that the man in purple only killed as a last resort. He was one of those ‘good heroes’. As she crouched over the dead body, his voice rang out, clear as a bell and full of righteous justice. Most definitely one of those squeaky-clean hero types. Barbara couldn’t help but laugh; a rougher sound than her normal chuckle, more bestial in its nature and delivery. Surely the sound of it frightened the men just a bit more.

The threat from the man in purple, followed by the gunshots, gave her enough time to slip away into the shadows made by the various crates, packaging, and poor lighting. And just in time too, as some of the dead man’s comrades came investigating. She hunkered down and watched as they approached the body, every instinct in Barbara’s body screaming to leap out, make them run, and then chase them to their own demise, but she held fast and waited. At least until one of the men saw the carnage and bolted. Frankly, in Barbara’s own opinion, a torn-out throat wasn’t enough a reason to turn tail and run, but as the man fled past her hiding spot, she lunged forward, leaping at him. One swipe of her claws hamstringed his leg, while the other caught his belly, and together the two of them toppled over and slid across the concrete floor before coming to a rest against some boxes, with Barbara naturally on top.

“God, oh god, oh god,” the man repeated over and over again, staring at the beast looming over him.

“Not quite, my pet,” Barbara chuckled, giving him a sudden and rough kiss. Why not make his last moments alive happy? “But you’ll meet him soon enough.” With that, she quickly wrenched his head to the side, snapping his neck. “One for you, my husband.” Her moment of delight was brought to a literal crashing halt as the shelving stacks fell upon Barbara, burying her underneath.

The two Vultures must have felt both pleased and relieved at having handled that creature so easily. All that was left now was The Phantom, or so they thought until movement from the shelving pile was seen. Barbara was battered and bruised, but if anything, that made her all the more furious. Using her enhanced strength, she exploded from the debris and roared at the thieves, producing a sound that no normal jungle cat could make. “You disgusting bastards! Did you really think that would stop me?! You know nothing!” she yelled, tail whipping around in anger.

“I thought he had a dog?! Not a cat…. thing!” one Vulture yelled upon seeing the Cheetah in her full fury. It was then that she saw the other man working his own brand of justice, and that was where they both differed greatly. He seemed to be doing everything in his power to knock out, capture, and subdue the thieves, while Barbara already had her claws wet with blood. Mr. Walker’s question about her being a guardian briefly flitted through her mind, and Barbara could say with certainty that she was no protector. Let the masked man arrest as many thieves as he wanted, she would hunt and kill the rest. She was vengeance and a force of nature, one that was oblivious to the comment about The Phantom being partnered with a canine. Had she been in a different state of mind, Barbara might have put two and two together about Mr. Walker, his four-legged friend, and the man in purple.