11015/A Cat's Moon: Track 13

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A Cat's Moon: Track 13
Date of Scene: 14 February 2020
Location: 4th Ave, Brooklyn, New York
Synopsis: Ivory meets Cheetah a third time. This time though, the Cheetah bites her and creates a cat monster!
Cast of Characters: Ivory, Cheetah




Ivory has posed:
    Once upon a time, 10007 4th Avenue, Brooklyn, NY was a bar called Club Cats, a Russian Breakfast, brunch and wine bar. Ove the years it had been replaced, now housing an entirely different restaurant on the ground floor. But one thing had remained from those days: the old door signs had been tosed onto the roof by somene, the black plastic getting grey from the summers, the white cut outs turning green from algae. And as a thursday party night stars to draw a close, an old ruffian of a tomcat, shabby fur and certainly not a terror for many mice, hisses takes his seat on the derelict of old time to stare up to the full orb of silver above.

Just some dozen feet below, another cat roams. Or rather is roamed around, as this cat is made from fabric and stitches onto the back of a white winter jacket, eternally a young persian kitten batting at a snowflake. The wearer of the jacket? Ivory. In their girl shoes. They're smiling as they waltz down the street.

Cheetah has posed:
Here and there party patrons in ones and twos start to break away from herd as those Thursday festivities wind down. Ivory shares the street with a healthy crowd despite the hour and the day. Everyone is bathed in the cottony glow of the full moon, whose pale rays are aided by a clear, black sky.

On a night like tonight one can almost see those lunar craters and other surface imperfections with the naked eye. Much like one /might/ make out the darkened figure depending, ape-like, from the rooftop corner of a nearby 3-story brownstone. Ivory doesn't appear to have noticed yet. And the sinister figure has been following her -- watching her from above -- for several blocks...

Ivory has posed:
    Indeed doesn't notice as they - she? - march towards the north along 4th Avenue, possibly aiming to get to the Subway station Bay Ridge close to the 95th Street, but that's some 5 blocks away, one after St. Patricks. Not the Cathedral, but the Bayridge church and catholic shool taking a whole block on the road.

    They have only gained two blocks, the Air Force Recruiting bureau on their right, when something opposite Marine Avenue and into a back alley catches their eye and thes stop. Some two, three long breathes they stop, watching for the little figure they had noticed earlier, before they catch what it is. A pair of white glows appears, then another. A pair of calico cats, staring back a moment before darting off into the darkness again, possibly to either go home or find some late night snack.

    Ivory meanwhile ponders a moment, then alters the way. Instead of following along the road, they divert into that back alley. Probably foolish, but why not? It was a thursday and this was Brooklyn. Since the Foot starts to take over, crime was on an all time low, so why not take a little back alley route?

Cheetah has posed:
Cheetah's eyes catch the moonlight and glow like hateful, viridescent coals. She's in a particularly aggressive mood -- something that seems to happen when the moon is full. She has been restively stalking the city with no particular aim since nightfall. Unknown to Ivory, the two women crossed paths a short time ago: she on the street and Cheetah on the rooftops above. Cheetah had recognized the white jacket. Events seem to have taken on a dreadful life of their own from there.

Still suspended scores of feet above the street Cheetah's cruel mouth draws back from her glistening fangs and a low, barely-audible growl rumbles around in her chest. She watches Ivory wander down the alley. In the blink of an eye Cheetah lands noiselessly atop one of the buildings framing the alley. Yeah, why not take a little back alley route? Nothing terrible ever happened in an alleyway in New York, right?

Ivory has posed:
    Well, besides the Punisher shooting people in them, back alleys are not a thing of bad memories for Ivory. They don't look up... probably a bad thing. They crossed ways earlier before. Wearing boy, when Cheetah crashed a runway show. Wearing cat, they witnessed a trade, even sat on a stolen statue... but now? Had the designer become Prey?

Cheetah has posed:
Yes. Yes, she had. Ivory probably shouldn't feel too bad, though: Cheetah has long viewed the physical integrity of other people as negotiable. The canny carnivore has yet to connect Ivory to the fashion show debacle or to the nosey feline who curled up on her precious (and purloined) statue, but she remembers that damn jacket. That and the full moon are reasons enough to underwrite a little of the old ultra-violence.

Cheetah drops from the sky to land soundlessly in the alley some distance behind Ivory but far enough into the shadows not to be noticed by pedestrians on the street beyond. She starts to stalk quietly forward, one silent footfall after another, closer and closer to Ivory, who looks absolutely fabulous in that jacket.

Ivory has posed:
    Not gifted with cat hearing, Ivory misses the light sound behind them. There's only that odd feeling of... something. That stalking feeling of the night. The feeling of eyes on ones back. The distance between the stalking cat and Ivory shrinks, and as it is jsut one, two steps, Ivory finally glances over their shoulder, probably way too late to even evade a pounce or swipe.

Cheetah has posed:
Ivory's much-too-late glance is met by Cheetah's leering, bestial face. She is salivating and the shock of red hair atop her head is more unkempt than normal, lending her a rather leonine appearance. She lets out a sardonic hiss, "You noticed me earlier than most. Bully for you." Cheetah lashes out with her right "hand." Her aim is not to draw blood; likely the worst that would happen is that Ivory gets knocked off balance and falls to the super-icky ground. This will be a terrible crime if that darling jacket gets ruined by the back alley mire.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory jumps back at the sudden face in theirs - hers. Just like a few feet, staring into the feline face. "Eh... g...good kitten?" they mutter as the hand hits their shoulder and topples them sideways, into one of the metal junk containers. The big sort full of ick and in this case, a fat tomcat with a tux look, some lasagna smeared into his fur as he jumps out of the container to get out of the area, swaying out of the alleyway.

Pulling themselves up at the side again, Ivory's face shows some pain. Rust left a few marks on the arm of the jacket. Her free hand brushes over her lips, then she spits. No blood mixed into it. Some cruel streak mixes into the face, instincts awakening deep inside. "Bad Cat..."

Cheetah has posed:
Cheetah snorts, "You have /no/ idea." She stands with her feet apart (bare feet in a NYC alley? Ew...) and her shoulders squared. She's ready for action though she doesn't appear inclined to ratchet up the situation any further. A slight smile of satisfaction conjures itself on her dark lips at the sight of rust marks on Ivory's jacket. God, Cheetah hates that coat.

"Where'd you get that jacket?" Cheetah's been in the fashion biz long enough to recognize a custom-made article and her senses -- particularly her eyesight -- are keen enough to detect that the one this unknown woman is presently wearing is the same one worn by the young man Cheetah accosted at the fashion show. Boyfriend maybe? Brother? Whoever he is, that little jerk owes her a necklace.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory doesn't assume some formalized stance. But it's one that the school of hard knocks taught them well. Hands as loose fists, feet shoulder wide. She pulls the foot away from the container a little as she glances towards the big small cat humanoid, smirking. "Made it, pussycat."

It might not have been exactly the same jacket, but it was the same style and similar make. A winter version. And the necklace surely shared the same markings with those on the designer Cheetah had thrown down on the Metropolis Fashion Show. And didn't that cat in the Metropolis Zoo have a similar one? Or was it all the same one?

Cheetah has posed:
As Ivory moves into a more action-ready pose her necklace briefly flashes into view. Even in a dark, dank alleyway this brief cameo may as well have a spotlight shining directly on it. Cheetah's eyes widen. Screw the jacket! Momma want! The necklace is clearly the same one the designer had on his person. Come to think of it, didn't that nosey cat a few weeks back have the same bauble? Whatever. Cheetah can sort out the suspects later. Brazenly, she reaches out a furry hand to take the necklace. This is done with no particular care and Cheetah makes no attempt to protect herself from possible blowback.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory ducks at the hand closing in, the right arm coming up in a rough block while they throw their body forward, the left fist closing harder as she pushes it forward. It's an attempt to punch the cat attacking her, an instinctive attack that is well engrained from highschool. Grabs for the shoulder or neck? Strike for the belly when it comes, push the attacker, create distance, try to drive the Cheetah back...

Cheetah has posed:
Cheetah lets out a staccato snarl that is cut short more by surprise than by the force of Ivory's blow. That Ivory would have the gall to defend herself had never entered into Cheetah's calculation. Shock accounts, too, for the big cat stumbling a few steps back from Ivory. There's not a lot of distance created but, in a pinch, every second counts...

Ivory has posed:
Ivory almost snarls as she steps forth, trying to keep the initiative. She might not be strong - not even top human strong - and her training is surely lacking in comparison to formal training, but she had the first strike and sure tries not to lose the streak. Her right hand fists up and tries to hit for Cheetah's left hip bone as she pulls the left back for another strike. But there are gaps in the defense... or rather... what defense there is is more rudimentary, as that's now an all out attack.

Cheetah has posed:
As luck would have it, Cheetah lacks formal training as well. Unfortunately, and unlike Ivory, she is very strong. And very, very quick.

Cheetah's steady posture shivers as Ivory's fist strikes home, landing on her left hip. The element of surprise is finally wearing off, though. The feline felon lets out a characteristic snarl of her own -- if pedestrians outside the alley were blissfully unaware of the goings-on inside, they certainly have an idea that something is going on now. With breathtaking speed, Cheetah's open hands shoot toward Ivory, attempting to push Ivory away with something approximating the force of a moving car.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory ends up flying back, her short sally ended by the double hit against the shoulders. The kitten pawing on the snowflake hists the dumpster with a loud thunk, mixed with a sream of pain. Almost like frozen in time, she hangs against the dumpster for some long moments, then gravity gets a hold of her and she beginst to fall, the kitten striked through with a rusty mark on the white fabric. Groaning, she pushes her arms under herself to try to get back onto her feet, managing to get the knees under, but not much more.

Cheetah has posed:
Cheetah's fury is not at all appeased. "You stupid cow!" She positively spits out the word 'cow' as if it were the vilest of insults. Frankly, she's spitting out just about everything: her fangs are visibly coated in saliva and little rivulets run over the edges of her mouth and down her chin. She looks unhinged - moreso than one would usually expect in a six foot tall cat-woman.

The distance between Cheetah and Ivory isn't great despite the force of the blow. Cheetah makes it up in short order and will soon be nose to snout with Ivory.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory cuffs as she forces herself up more, hands parting from the ground. Once more she spits as she sheds the jacket constricting her movements some. A little red shimmer is in the saliva.

"Cat. If anything, stupid cat!" Ivory answers with pain on the face but also taking a rough position again. Her eyes dart left and right, scanning for an opening, trying to find a way to get past the spotted cat. One that was well better than her, or at least had a clear upper hand in strength...

Cheetah has posed:
Cheetah's nostrils flare. Her senses are acute enough to detect even the trace amounts of blood in Ivory's spit. Clawed fingers latch onto Ivory's slight shoulders and lift the younger woman from the ground with ease. "Stupid in any event." she growls. Pointed ears twist themselves toward the mouth of the alleyway where a small, curious crowd is starting to gather. They peer into the gloom and try to make out what's going on.

Cheetah pulls Ivory's face close to her own, "Give. Me. What. I. Want." Each word is painstakingly enunciated and accompanied by mocking, exaggerated facial expressions. The eyes have it, though. Big, green orbs stare down at Ivory's necklace.

Ivory has posed:
    There's a wince in Ivory's face as she is pulled up and almost kept dangling, arms twisted by the grip. the arms somewhat out of the fight, she instead tries to perform a kick against the cat, only managing to get to hit the shin at best, and then only lacking the strength of a top human, making it probably not more than a nuisance. "Money?! Take it!"

Cheetah has posed:
Well *now* Ivory is just being intentionally obtuse. She knows darn well what Cheetah wants! That kick to the shin is the last straw. As the full moon watches from on high, the delicately balanced (though somewhat unstable) clockwork apparatus humming along inside Cheetah's brain finally drops a gear. Primal instincts take over. Cheetah's grip tightens and wrenches Ivory closer. Meanwhile, Cheetah's head lurches forward. Slavering jaws clamp into the meat of Ivory's left shoulder with the enthusiasm of a shark. Razor-keen teeth slip cleanly into the skin.

This nightmare lasts only a second or two. A sudden spasm fills Cheetah's mouth with Ivory's blood and the spell is broken. Whatever remains of Cheetah's human alter-ego, Barbara-Ann Minerva, stirs to life. Cheetah tears her mouth from Ivory's body and relinquishes her grip on the young woman's shoulders. Minerva's first instinct is to spit he blood out but, in the end, she can't help herself and it slips down her throat. She wipes her stained mouth with the back of her trembling hand. Did...did that just happen? Did she seriously try to eat somebody?

Ivory has posed:
Ivory screams up at the sudden pain, collapsing onto the ground as she is released, the shoulder pounding like crazy. What was that crazy cat woman?!

The pain in the shoulder hammers, spreads, then fur starts to spread around the point of the bite. White fur spreads rapidly, the woman groaning as the body starts to change without her control.

Cheetah has posed:
"The bloody hell..?" Cheetah takes a reflexive step back and watches Ivory in horror. *THAT* has never happened before. Mind you, Cheetah has never tried to eat anyone before either. She takes another step back and her foot gets entangled in the jacket Ivory took off mere moments before. Ensnared, Cheetah loses her balance and falls on her backside -- still scrambling away from Ivory and whatever the heck is happening there. Mid-scramble, Cheetah snatches the jacket from her foot and leaps to her feet. The jacket is still in her grip. There is now a modest distance between her in Ivory. Morbid curiosity keeps Cheetah from fleeing entirely. On the sidewalk beyond the alley, someone has telephoned the police. Sirens can be heard in the distance.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory is clearly in pain as the slim body starts to bulk up rapidly, the fur rapidly covering the body and the face shifting. She screams out something that doesn't make sense as the arms and fingers seem to dislocate a moment, then pop back into position, the fingers turning into claws. The changes are clearly a painful wave, leaving her as a white catlike beaing, a long mane of white for hair. The jaws are opened in a silent scream, eyes clenched shut...

Then the eyes open, blue slotted eyes glaring at the moon with an uncanny intelligence atypical for victims of Cheetah's curse. Like there is a cold flame burning deep in them. And then a roar that would befit a tiger of giant size rips the night.

Cheetah has posed:
Right. That's Cheetah's cue to bravely get the hell out of Dodge. She lets out a squeak that wouldn't do justice to a mouse, turns, and bolts. She's only just begun to experiment with the limits of her superspeed but -- boy, howdy- does she push the envelope tonight. In the blink of an eye she is long gone: out the alley, past the gathering crowd of onlookers (some of whom have foolishly started to edge into the alley), and down the street. She won't notice the remnants of Ivory's jacket still clutched in her fury hand until she stops many, many, many blocks from here. Let somebody else clean up whatever mess she's managed to create back there. It's every cat for herself.