Wrong Target [Miriam]

[Kayla Chetwood-Elicott]

The necklace in her gloved hand glistened of diamonds and gold under the dim shine of a tiny flashlight. Kayla smirked and dropped it in the bag of goodies she had collected from the ornate coffer on the vanity inside a politician’s wife’s chamber. The two, uniquely vain individuals, were on a cruise through the Caribbean and their home alarm system was shit – what a wrong thing to decide to cut expenses on. Although emptying the entire coffer into a bag would have been the most time-saving action, Kayla didn’t have enough room for everything in her treasure pouch. She also wasn’t the sort of thief who leapt from rooftop to rooftop carrying a sack of stolen articles, like a reverse Santa Claus.

When she was done collecting the most valuable items from within the fine box, she tied her pouch shut and hung it to her belt. Exiting the chamber by means of the window she had unhinged, she cast her gaze right, left and down to make sure no one was bearing witness to her thievery. So far, the night appeared pleasantly quiet. As any experienced burglar would, she went about covering her tracks, returning the window as close to its original state as possible. Not that she had left any evidence that could trace the burglary to herself inside, but it paid to be thorough.

Window safely secured in place, Kayla shuffled on the short ledge of the mansion’s first floor, quietly walking to the fire escape staircase. Once there, she descended at a rapid pace and dashed into the nearest shadows. It would be a long walk back to her place, though dark alleys full of dangers, but these dangers she knew how to face. It was under the shine of streetlights that she felt most vulnerable. Dressed like a lifelike Catwoman again, save for the feline ears, she adjusted the night-vision ball mask on her face, languidly stepping into an alley. The sound of something coming closer distracted her thoughts then and she twisted around to see something zipping by so fast, literally jumping from wall to wall, that she immediately started running in another direction, going left through a different alley.

She ran through the light puddles on the narrow path and felt... pursued. Never having been particularly fast, she had to slow her sudden assailant, so she produced a pair of sickle-like instruments from two pouches on her belt. At first they were just twin cylinders, but pressing buttons on them made hook blades spring like claws from a cat’s paws. She used them to hook large trashcans on her way, spilling their foul contents and sending them rolling in the other person’s way. When she exited the alley, she rushed by the side of a building, immediately jumping up to catch herself on a high hanging fire escape ladder. Drawing herself up with impressive strength, she started ascending, until finally, she was on the roof of a new building.

Her run continued, but she was running out of roof surface. So she twisted around, abruptly coming to a stop, a pistol in each of her hands, eyes narrowed behind night-vision lenses. “Why are you following me?” She demanded loudly of the darkness, poised to shoot should she be approached without receiving a reply.

[Miriam Valentine]

There was always something to be said about "independence." Miriam had plenty to say about it. Some of it was good - being the only one in charge meant her orders and decisions were absolute. She had complete authority, whether one was talking about the Guardian Network or the operations of The Palace at Versailles. Nothing, unless she wished it so, could be contradictory. On the other hand, "independence", in this case, was equivalent to "solitude" and a solitary existence, particularly with so complicated a "profession", had already been labeled as "inefficient and sub-optimal." This feeling, while mainly attributed to the organizations as a whole, would, this night, fall squarely on the individual, for Miri's night-time mutant hunting had been cut off and redirected by circumstance. The trouble with flying "solo" was that she had no team to back her up; electronic eyes and real-time streaming of environmental maps were no substitute for "bodies in the field."

Her quarry was a sticky sort and, aside from sticking to the shadows, had nothing in common with the thief. The most obvious difference, of course, was that the mutant Miriam was trailing was male. Beyond that, while the thief dressed like a cat, the mutant's DNA seemed to have been spliced with the qualities of a tree frog. His leaping ability, on base, was far beyond that of even the most accomplished human, and his digits - toes and fingers - were equipped with small, but exceptionally strong, suction cups. His skin produced a natural slime that was both moderately toxic and, when produced from certain parts of his body, was equipped with an adhesive quality. The slime was not the only toxic trouble possessed by the mutant; the gill-like structures that lined his rib cage and the side of his neck were capable of producing an acidic gas. It was for this reason that, for the entirety of her pursuit, the bottom portion - nose and mouth - of Miriam's face was covered by a quaint gas mask/rebreather combination. The item, much smaller and more sleek than any other of its kind on the market was, ironically, the completed version of a prototype the DNCS had been working on for years and, to date, had yet to complete.

The chase had already been on for an hour when the unfortunate crossing of paths occurred. Already, the redheaded "Calypso" had tangled with her prey twice, and both times she had failed to subdue him. Her rapier was bloodied, having inflicted a few superficial and fewer still moderate wounds, and her trench coat and skin tight black body suit each displayed battle damage. The coat had been shredded down the lower back, giving Miriam "six tails", though no true injury had accompanied this damage. Her left sleeve had been acid-burned completely off, and both "wings" of the lower front of the coat sported acid holes as well. The damage to her body suit - and herself - was less severe, as the splashing of the acid was from a "bleed through" effect. Still, the redhead was exceptionally uncomfortable with the fact that she was "showing some skin" - part of her left hip and midrift and a portion of her right thigh - but it was truly nothing more than an annoyance. Her dwindling accessory resources were more worrisome; while she still had two smoke grenades left, her tear gas and "Deep Nocturne" sleeping gas were gone and she had but a single canister of "Scarecrow" remaining. Still, her rapier, though tarnished, was still in pristine condition, and she had not even fired her revolver.

Pursuit had taken her into and out of dark alleys all night, and the "mishap" alley was truly no different than any of the others. The problem was the crossing of black-on-black - or, in the case of night vision, green-on-green. Forward and up had been the mutant's trajectory, but twisting around a corner caused the clashing of light signatures on Miriam's display. The mutant continued deeper onwards, but his bleached green image was hidden by Kayla's. When Kayla went left, Miriam had no choice but to follow. The thief's silhouette was the only one she saw.

Yet, early in the pursuit, the redhead began to suspect that something was wrong. Instead of a frantic, leaping, zig-zagged style chase, it had become decidedly linear and... slower. Obstacles were introduced to her path where, before, only sleek flight, with no concern for surroundings, had been the common practice. Still, nothing confirmed that anything was amiss - Miri could rationalize that the change in the habits of her prey was due to fatigue and the various injuries she, herself, had caused him. When she rounded the corner and found that her quarry had begun ascending a fire escape, she felt a little better - the direction "up" had returned. Though she was forced to sheathe her blade to facilitate the climb, she followed suit... but as soon as she came over the edge, she paused. With light sources, however distant, more accessible on the rooftop, Miriam took a second to change her glasses from pure night vision to a washed out, but more precise, low light vision setting.

Instantly, she recognized that the "game was over", and that she had lost. With a higher definition view, the simple detail of Kayla's "more feminine, less frog-like" outline gave this away. Kayla's voice, when she shot forth her demanding question, was too late to cause Miri any additional alarm. Defeated - at the game she had been playing - or not, this mistake was not, at least for the moment, a "lost cause" - this she rationalized immediately. The individual she'd "cornered", so to speak, was literally an unknown and, despite the brandished firearms, Miri felt she had an obligation - a duty - to, at the very least, fish for a superficial, if nothing else, understanding of this "unknown's" potential threat level. With the shadows still in play, "cover" became her first card played, and she side-stepped to crouch behind an air duct.

"What an interesting question, m'lady," she replied, cooly. "But is it the appropriate one? The settings and circumstances leave one to wonder, do they not? After all, 'tis only those of a guilty conscience that flee. The question then, is not why do I pursue, my dear. The question is: why do you run?"

[Kayla Chetwood-Elicott]

With anxiety still rich in her system, for she had no idea of the nature of her pursuer, Kayla immediately angled her pistols in the air duct’s direction for the reply she was offered. It sounded like an aristocratic woman, given her manner of addressing her. “I happen not to care for appropriate,” she shot back, clearly in no mood to lose the edge in her tone or offer her “pursuer” any illusion of comfortable neutrality. The situation, for now, was that she had been chased by this concealed woman.

A quiet, mirthless smirk, was her first answer to the woman’s attempt at logic. The flicker of irony faded very quickly and Kayla’s tone became grim and serious. “Or those thirsty for justice but constantly dogged by its counterpart.” And now she was referring directly to herself in a way the other female couldn’t possibly guess. When her father had been framed and chased down to be killed for treason he had never committed and then the hunt was extended to her and her mother, she wasn’t running of no guilty conscience. Even tonight, after having stolen from a rich man’s coffers, whose days were spent in dealing lies and swimming in sin, she was again at a lack of guilt.

Considering the woman’s last question, however, made a genuine grin spread on her face and it would show in her tone. “You chase me and presume to ask me questions of my business that I’ll happily indulge?” A huff, amused. “Your curiosity will starve tonight.” Kayla quickly placed one of her pistols in its holder and grabbed a metallic-looking, round ball from one of her pouches, zipping the container shut after taking it. “But if you don’t know, then we have no business prolonging this acquaintance.” She shifted the little silver ball In her fingers, severely tempted to throw it between them.

“Last time I’m asking: Why are you following me?” The peer was back along with the edge in her tone. She wouldn’t believe for one second that this woman wasn’t some government spy, finally having caught up with Kayla. “Wrong answer, or more questions, and you’ll find my tolerance for discussion spent.”

The usual anticipative adrenaline associated with any practical threat proclamation rippled through her, sharpening her senses. Part of her wanted to flee right now, forget about making conversation. It was stupid not to, and yet she was tarrying. Oh, if Leonard could see her now, acting so foolish and providing so many openings for all sorts of consequences. With an inner sigh, Kayla pushed his memory back into the depths of her consciousness and kept on edge, expecting... absolutely anything to happen.

[Miriam Valentine]

"You proclaim that my curiosity shall starve, yet you insist that I feed yours?" As she spoke, Miriam activated one of her remaining smoke grenades. With her rebreather equipped, she had little care - aside from, perhaps, the scent-staining of her hair - for being directly engulfed by the billowing cloud. "I appreciate your bravado, my dear, truly. 'Tis a shame it is so misplaced. You've no idea what I know, what resources I have available... or what I am capable of. Thus, you will entertain my questions-" A quick flick of her wrist sent the billowing smoke grenade out. It landed, ironically, in precisely the place that Kayla had been thinking of tossing her mysterious metal ball. "-or it truly will be the last time you ask. Anything."

As soon as the "screen" was in place, Miri moved, cutting around in the direction opposite of the smoke, using the snaking ventilation duct as a shield. As she did this, she un-holstered her revolver - there was no since in matching blade to bullets. Her path took her to Kayla's right and she emerged from behind the silver ducts with her revolver held high and tight. As usual, her form was "perfect", indicating that she was no novice with the firearm. The fact that Kayla had, so far, shown only a tendency towards "traditional" means of defense had begun pushing Miriam's opinion towards either "non-mutant" or, at least, "not a threat." This opinion kept her from making any sort of offensive movement. She was quite satisfied with maintaining a gun-to-gun stalemate for the time being.

"Thus, I will leave this decision up to you. We can be cordial, or we can be barbaric. Select the latter and, even if you escape, my network will assuredly have your description plastered all over this grand cityscape. No place to run; no place to hide. As a gesture of good faith, I will offer you this: you are a mistake. But since you have caused me to lose my quarry, you shall become the substitute. And I shall be the judge of your guilt or innocence, with regard to the kind of justice I seek."

(( Sorry. ._. Short and lame. Can't figure out how to make it anymore... robust. >_>))

[Kayla Chetwood-Elicott]

The moment Miriam started making demands, Kayla renounced any hope of having a pleasant evening. It was true. Kayla had no idea who the woman was, but from the way she spoke, neither was she a spy fully aware of who Kayla had been. That was her only brush with fortune in the situation. As capable as she possibly was, if the CIA hadn’t managed to catch her, Kayla had some confidence in her ability to escape sticky situations.

The moment the projectile, whatever it was, was flicked her way, Kayla rolled to the side, just in case it had been explosive, but not before releasing her own silvery ball and sucking in a deep breath. While the smoke expanded on the roof and her own projectile landed somewhere in the middle that had been established between their distance, Kayla was making her way down the wall of the building, the pistol back in its holder and metallic chord that always hung by her belt now hung by its hook on a solid bit of low railing. By the time the smoke expanded greatly on the roof and her own projectile’s purpose would become obvious – it had smashed on the ground to release a sticky substance that spread comfortably 3 square meters with their center the place of impact - Kayla was half-way down the wall, thoroughly missing Miriam’s speech.

She dropped the last two meter distance to the ground, rolling on her side and up to her feet, releasing the chord from her belt. And she was gone again, during her run producing a dark scarf that she tied around her face, just above her nose. Of all the fucking nights to run into weirdos, it had to happen on the one she had managed quite a promising theft. The jewelry in her possession would go for a generous price on the black market.

Kayla had run back into a dark alley again, hoping to dash into an abandoned building near-by, with any luck before the woman caught up to her, if she was so desperately interested in the pursuit. This was not to be, however, for the moment she turned the corner she collided, full-force, with the (although she didn’t know it) mutant Miriam had been chasing. The impact sent her flying backwards, but she caught herself on both hands, pushed and did an elegant backflip that had her land on her feet, in a crouch. Something slimy was across her dark leather vest and on her gloves and she didn’t have time to right herself before the irked mutant charged at her, forcing her to roll out of its way.

If she hadn’t been scared before, she was now. Dealing with mutants had never been her thing and she had only briefly researched them by means of papers stolen from the DNCS. Even if she had come across some of them, she had never been against them and none of them had looked like a toad-Hulk. It was the stuff you scared children to bed with. “STOP FOLLOWING ME!” It raged at her, and now that she could see it fully, Kayla noted it had a sizeable metal bar in its grasp. “I’m not-“ The mutant was charging again, wildly aiming at her with its weapon and releasing a green gas from, what appeared to be, its frilly body. Forced into close combat, Kayla used her twin-sickles, dodging the metal bar quite easily and slashing a new wound (that joined the ones Miriam had inflicted) across the mutant’s side.

The toxic gas, however, she passed right through and although the material on her face, designed to filter mild toxins or bacteria, helped, it didn’t have the intricacy of fabric or make to completely block out the mutant’s gaseous attack. Immediately, she felt weaker, dizzier, her eyes started clouding and she jumped as far away from the mutant as she could manage. As unnatural warmth started flooding through her system, Kayla had to think that this evening was going to be so very far from pleasant...


((Hope you don’t mind what I did there, but Kayla wouldn’t have stayed put after being “attacked.” If you decide to have Miriam step into the sticky substance, it would have very powerful adhesive qualities and would probably take some tearing (of either concrete or boot/whatever Miri’s wearing material to get free of it). Also, in action situations, short is better. ))

[Miriam Valentine]

((Don't mind at all. Wasn't quite sure what direction I was going in anyway. >_> It's better this way. But Miri went completely around the smoke screen, so she'll miss the sticky stuff, too. LoL.))

Though she had intended to try and "corral" the problem, and seek a "diplomatic" solution (though, naturally, with all the leverage on her side), Miri had underestimated the daring of her quarry of mistaken identity. When no immediate response came from the other, the redhead charged into the now-drifting smoke... and came out the other side unscathed and without any contact from the other. She sighed, thinking, at first, that, perhaps, the night would end on double failure.

Annoyed but, in a way, beginning to consider that a lack of injury was still something of a "victory" on one of these "adventures", Miriam was preparing to simply head back to the fire escape that had granted her access to this roof and "call it a night." Before she could take a single step, a shout echoed up from below. Though distance distorted the voice, Miri had heard enough of the shouting during the previous two altercations to recognize it as the one she had meant to follow. She smirked.

"Perhaps coincidences aren't always for insignificant things, Oscar," she half-whispered, letting her eyes scan the nearby roof tops. After the quick moment of reconnaissance, she determined that she could, with a running start, make an L-shaped pattern of short jumps to close in on the general area the mutant's voice had come from. As a precaution, she checked the positioning of her rebreather, and switched her vision filter back to night vision. Then she bolted.

By the time she arrived on the roof above where the altercation between "Toad" and Kayla was occurring, the battle was already in session. Recognizing that jumping from this height, even if her aim was true and she landed squarely on the mutant, was akin to suicide, Miri chose stealth over bravado and slipped onto another fire escape. A few flights down the stairs would make a jumping attack feasible, and once she had reached the chosen height, she left the fire escape and shimmied across a few window ledges until she was directly above Kayla. The thief had just jumped away from the mutant, and did not appear to be doing very well... but Miriam did not immediately interfere.

On the one hand, it was "disrespectful" to interrupt a "duel." Honor dictated that a one-on-one contest should remain so until its conclusion, for any kind of intervening rendered the final decision tainted. Further still, the thief-woman had, essentially, gotten herself into this position by acting spontaneously to her smoke screen, and thus, it could be argued that, whatever the result, she would "get what she deserved" from it. On the other hand, Miri's whole purpose in hunting and "disabling" the mutant was to protect society from a viable threat and, whether she liked to admit it or not given the brief exchange from before, Kayla was part of society and had not, as of yet, shown herself to also be a dangerous mutant. As such, as "Calypso" she was duty-bound to provide assistance.

Another little sigh rose up, but she stifled this one, shook her head slightly, and smirked. If she had to interfere, she would do her best to "have her cake and eat it too." She pulled her final canister of "Scarecrow" gas from her belt and waited until the mutant closed the distance towards Kayla. As he rushed forward, Miriam primed the potent hallucinogen, aimed, and tossed it. It struck a wall just above Kayla - disrupting but not completely stopping the mutant's charge - and the ricochet of the canister caused it to land just behind the thief. Unlike the smoke grenade, which released its contents in billowing waves, the "Scarecrow" design caused it to release its payload in a single, powerful burst, spreading thick, shimmering purple gas out in a slowly elevating cylinder with a typical radius of about 10 feet. The height it reached, while truly determined only by the ceiling containing it, tended to "hold" at about 8 feet.

And then, the redhead simply paused to watch. The hallucinogen, while "potent" was extremely variable when it came to the experience of the individual. Miri's own experiences with it - another reason she was wearing her rebreather - was intially of the "berserker" variety. Manifesting as a circle of demonic figures that she could not run from, she had, on her first introduction, become full of venom and had attempted to slay the illusions. But futility eventually won over and, even though she knew the images were chemically induced, had she not been wearing her rebreather, she would have become paralyzed with fear once the illusion fully appeared. She'd seen many other reactions to the gas, however. And, in a way, she inwardly hoped that both of the individuals below would react to it like the "Deep Nocturne" sleeping gas she sorely missed.

Whatever the case, it was sure to be an interesting show. And since she anticipated having to eventually interfere, she unleashed her weaponry. With the rapier in her right hand and her revolver in her left, Miriam resigned herself to "observe" until one of four things occurred: both combatants were subdued, the other woman's life became unquestionably endangered, the mutant was subdued, or... the whole scene moved to a different location. She truly hoped the fourth option was not an option at all.

[Kayla Chetwood-Elicott]

The mutant was rushing towards her and Kayla was just about to make an effort to roll out of his way when a fog of purple gas exploded out of a sudden projectile. In her feverish agitation, Kayla had completely missed Miriam’s presence and she wouldn’t notice it now either, because through the folds of her already inadequate filter, the effects of the colorful gas were taking shape.

As such, the world as it was disappeared in front of her and was replaced with a lucid dream-state that centered around a heart-shattering event. The dark of the street had become the gloom of a different night, when orders had been issued to retain her or eliminate her completely if that was futile. Quite suddenly, she was back on the roof of a tall building, with Leonard as the one come to capture her, his gun facing her way and his expression harsh, emotion unreadable underneath. At the time, she had felt crushed and heartbroken that even he would follow the order to obediently. They were trained to do it, act in spite of their close connection with the defective other, but it still hurt because she could have done it with anyone if she were in his position, except him.

That slap of realization widened her eyes and made her once more acknowledge, beyond a doubt, that she wasn’t his exception, or any exception, and she would never be. Last time when she had been faced with the situation she had done the only thing she could do – try to escape. No words had been spoken, no pleas had filled the night, but now, under the effect of the mutant’s toxic gas and that of Miriam’s hallucinogenic, Kayla burst into desperate tears, sitting on her knees, her hands coming to her face like spider-webs, tips of her fingers the only part of them touching her skin. “Why is it like this?” She asked the hallucination of Leonard in a tremulous voice, ripping the half-mask that covered her eyes from her face and letting it drop to her side unceremoniously.

“Why can’t you look at me and see me? Why don’t you know I would never betray YOU like that?” She hadn’t been a defective agent. She had never been a spy nor had her father been. Why couldn’t he see it in her? Kayla sobbed into her hands fully, palms pressed hard on her dark-rimmed eyes, staining them with eyeliner and mascara. One or both of the gaseous substances must have affected her emotions too, because they assaulted her in all their pent up furry. Her lips were a tight, quivering frown. “I would have given up everything for you. Everything!” She continued conversing with the hallucination that was her only reality at the moment. “Whatever they said, I would have believed you! How could you look at me like I was the traitor?”

She released a few more sobs and swept her hands down her face, teary expression coming to look at the apparition of the man she had loved futilely since adolescence. She looked stricken, angry, heartbroken. Her hands balled into fists at her sides on the rough sidewalk. “But you never saw me, did you? Not even once! Not now, not when I was by your side always. Always! You didn’t even... you didn’t even look! It was always someone else... someone better! How could you see someone else so entirely when all I could see was you?” She bit back another rush of sobs but it only lasted so much before the emotion overcame her and she crumbled to one side on the concrete. Her body convulsed occasionally from toxins and powerful emotion.

Kayla felt defeated spiritually, like she didn’t know who she was or had lost the ability to discern right from wrong. The rush of sobs had stopped and was replaced by frozen terror and she felt so very alone during all of it. The world was filled with wolves that were out to get her and they had finally surrounded her. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and the last of her strength slipped from her forehead under the form of feverish sweat. The terror in her eyes slowly faded and shaped into mute acceptance. Her knees were tucked close to her body, one of her arms was under her, hand beneath her head and her other arm was beside her, slightly stretched with palm on the ground. Somewhere directly in front of her there was the hallucination of Leonard and he watched her with those eyes that always told her she was inconsequential to him in the grand scheme of things.

Kayla’s green eyes closed and she could feel the cold of the street in her palm. If she could have believed for one moment that there was still something of him on her side she would have reached out a hand for help. Her fingers curled and she drew the hand near herself. She was on her own. Somehow she had known she had always been.

The thief passed out, entering a feverish unconsciousness.

[Miriam Valentine]

'Scarecrow' was always a gamble, but for this case the 'little white lie' that "The House always won" was made of 24 karat truth. Neither combatant below had anticipated an assault from above - one was blinded by the need of self-defense and self-preservation, the other was blinded by rage and mistaken identity. When she played her card and tossed the canister, the movement was missed. The landing went unnoticed. The purple haze erupted and engulfed both. As the fem-thief fell into the hysterics of memory, the frog-mutant found himself ensnared by the fear of an internal fantasy. Many of the mutants disfigured by their particular flavor of evolution, should they have also had the intelligence and imagination to facilitate it, fell prey to visions of the "monster" they - and most of "normal" society - thought that they were. In dreams, their monster-forms were full of power - they were invincible; conquerors of whomever they wished to conquer. They could not be challenged, in dreams. But in nightmares, they lived the reality of the "witch hunt"; the make up of which was painted in colors of their own unique experiences.

For the frog-mutant, the nightmare was of a "country" flavor created from the hatred and fear experienced from an unfortunate childhood. Though an amphibian mix was the target, it was very much a foxhunt - a panic-filled chase of a quarry beset by the braying of the bloodhounds and the calls and cries of men. With all the exertion already given on this night - from the chase and confrontations with Miriam to this latest stand off with Kayla - and with the cramped quarters and dark walls of the back alley towering overhead, the chase was all but done. The end game had begun, as hallucination produced the reality of trapped and cornered, where memory would have reminded him of his actual escape. There would be no escape here - phantom, intangible, invincible dogs, innumerable in their mighty pack, were upon him in an instant, cleverly dodging (or blatantly ignoring) his frantic attacks and nipping at him, threatening to tear him to shreds one tiny, slimy scale at a time.

With both affected by her ploy, Miriam generally relaxed. The fem-thief was, effectively, paralyzed and, in a few moments, the frog-mutant would realize the futility of his situation and, trapped as he seemed to be, would fall to the paralysis of the "beaten prey", accepting death because there was no more energy left to fuel the fight for survival. As the mutant was spouting things feral and berserk, she let her audio attention drift to the cries of the woman. She keyed in on a few sentiments.

Betrayal. Unrequited love. "Traitor." Though no details were given in the cries, Miriam could appreciate some aspect of two of the three. However, based on the way in which it was presented, she anticipated that she held a view from the opposite side of things when compared to Kayla. Of love? She knew not and, at this time, she cared not.

The frog collapsed. The thief collapsed. Somehow, the night had turned from utter failure to complete success, with an unquestionably interesting "special prize." Holstering her revolver, the redhead dropped from her perch and into the swirling purple mist, her rebreather keeping her safe and secure from the effects of both toxic gases that were in play. She wasted no time in eliminating the threat she had been chasing, walking over to the prone form of the frog-mutant with her frigid aura enshrouding her. It was all business and four lightning quick rapier strikes - each lung, the heart, and, with much finality, the brain - put to rest the night's trouble. From a pocket of her shredded coat, Miri produced a small tracking device, activated it, and dropped it onto the amphibian corpse. Then, since her glasses were still in place and fully functional, she opened a line into her own network.

"Calypso reporting; requesting immediate clean-up and retrieval at the currently broadcasting coordinates. Target is down, however, Scarecrow is still in play. Additionally, refer to target's dossier for other potentially remaining threats. Complete disposal is required - this was not a salvage mission. Secondly, send transportation to my own location. I shall be moving northeast momentarily, thus I expect to be retrieved from the closest edge of the zone of action. Let it be known that I have acquired an additional package, and it shall accompany me. That is all. Calypso, out."

Cryptic orders given, Miri produced a white kerchief and cleaned her blade. The cloth was dropped on the corpse, and she moved to Kayla's fallen form as she sheathed her rapier. Standing over the thief for a moment, Miriam shook her head.

"What is there to say? Do I curse you for being so troublesome, or do I praise you for being such an excellent distraction? I suppose we'll have to wait for you to wake up to answer such questions..." She crouched, noticing Kayla's discarded scarf. For a moment she considered ignoring it, but "complete" recovery convinced her to collect it. Snatching up the scarf, she reached under Kayla's body and, with more effort than she would have liked to put forth, she managed to pick up the unconscious thief. "Come on, then. 'Tis time we took our leave of this place."

Approximately five minutes later, a long stretch limo arrived at Miriam's chosen extraction point. The exterior was standard black, the windows tinted to midnight and impenetrable. The interior was plush, deep blue velvet and Kayla was placed at the end closest to the driver and furthest from the exit door, stretched out on a couch. Crystal also decorated the interior of the limo, in the form of goblets and containers of various spirits. Thoroughly, Miriam stripped Kayla of her weaponry and her bag of stolen goodies, securely placing them in crystal bowls secured atop one of the two crystal liquor stands that were equidistant to Kayla's position and the one she would take. It was as "fair" a positioning as the redhead was willing to allow. After pouring herself a glass of red wine, the redhead took her position at the opposite end of the cab, lounging idly with her legs crossed. Her left hand clutched the goblet from which she sipped, while her right held her revolver at the ready... and thus, she waited. The limo would cruise around all of Endonia until the thief awoke and the results of their interaction, whatever they happened to be, were made plain.