2688/A Missing Person

A Missing Person
Date of Scene:	04 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Tigra is looking for a missing person. She finds him, but also a lot more than that.
Cast of Characters:	Tigra, Satana

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Tigra has posed:
Late night. Another lead Tigra's trying to follow up on, this a missing person report someone in the meta/mutant community came to her with. In the aftermath of the trouble with Darkseid, not everyone has come home or been found. Some who have been..it wasn't good.

The path of the tigress leads her through one of the many seedy areas of New York City, places where the music is loud and the debauchery is high, but while she slows to give a few places a quick once-over, the tip of her striped tail flicks behind her as she picks up the pace again. The scent she's trying to track is faint and only getting weaker. "They said this was the last area he was in.." she murmurs to herself, bringing the shirt she's got with her back to her nose for a fresh whiff of who she's trying to find.

Satana has posed:
It's not even a regular club, but a drop-in, the sort of place that exists for a moment in time, a fragment, temporary and secret, burning until nothing but embers remain. The people here are universally young and beautiful, abusing themselves with drug and drink, pleasure and pain. Half of them are undressed and a bonfire has been built at the center of the dance space. The beat seems to come from every direction, speakers hidden throughout the warehouse in a constant sonic assault, thrumming down to the bones as dozens gyrate and grind against each other around the licking flames.

Near the base of the fire, there is a throne, carved in ivory and slightly raised on a dais. There, Satana holds court. She's clad in slick latex, legs sheathed, corset cinched tight enough to create decolletage capable of smothering a man. Her blood-red hair spills over bare shoulders. She holds a goblet of some unknown liquid in one hand, the other drumming black-polished nails along the surface of the long-dead bone. Her eyes have slitted pupils, serpentine and wicked as she takes in the debauchery around her.

The scent leads here, of that there can be no doubt, although finding your target among the horde of flesh might be daunting.

Tigra has posed:
Already, Tigra can hear some of the pounding music outside. Loud music is not a great thing for her, given how sharp and sensitive her ears can be. But, the scent leads unmistakably to the way into the warehouse. Why would it go there? Did this person actually disappear, or has he simply left home to do something he wouldn't want others to know of?

Frowning, the cat-woman approaches said door and raps on it a few times, assuming it doesn't simply open with the turn of a handle. One way or another, the goal is to get inside and see what's going on. She has no idea who's in there or what's really going on.

Satana has posed:
The woman working the door is nearly seven feet tall, covered in tattoos and topless, her piercings gleaming at eye level as she steps aside. Freaks only is the rule of the place, but Tigra certainly fits the bill at a glance.

A young man kneels at Satana's feet, leaning up to run his tongue over the latex of her boot, only to find the point of her toe suddenly at his throat. She doesn't raise her voice, but somehow she's audible to all, like a whisper in the ear, the kind that raises the hairs on the back of the neck.

"I've had enough worms today. Go find a fish that wants you. I'm more shark than trout," she snarls, shoving him off with a heel and sending him sprawling.

Tigra has posed:
For just a moment, Tigra looks surprised at what she sees on the other side of the door. Safe to say she's never seen a bouncer like that before. "You don't have a cover charge, do you?" she jokes before moving along when space is made. If there /is/ one, she'll take care of that first.

It's once she's further in that something triggers more of a wary nature in the feline, for there's a lot going on in here that would make the average person turn as red as a lobster. Even she's given to pause for a few seconds as she moves around enough to catch sight of the strange throne, the woman seated upon it, and the man trying to worship her. As she makes him scurry away, he passes by closely enough that she picks up his scent amid all the rest.

"Oh, you have /got/ to be kidding me," Tigra mutters.

Satana has posed:
Satana takes note of the tiger-furred creature amidst the horde, pushing up from her throne and stepping across. Seven inch heels require a great deal of skill to wear with anything resembling grace, and yet she does it, as fluid as...well, as a cat.

"I don't believe you were invited, but you're welcome just the same," Satana says, her head turned slightly askew, tongue running over her own set of fangs as she regards the feline heroine, "Just what brings you here? You don't seem inclined to dancing."

Tigra has posed:
The man looks up at Tigra with a surprised expression that seems to ask 'What?' only for her to throw the shirt in his face. "You're supposed to be missing. Get out of here and go home. People thought you were /dead!/" Oddly enough, being around the woman getting up to approach her might have actually resulted in that for all she knows.

He says nothing beyond a few mumbled words that don't make much sense, clutching the shirt as he scrambles away especially as Satana draws near, her focus now on the newcomer whose head angles toward one side at the sight of the woman.

"I /was/ looking for someone, but I found him." Satana gets a quick look, tip to toe, as if Tigra's trying to measure her up.

Satana has posed:
Satana watches the man depart, making a bit of a distasteful face, "Him? Hardly worth searching for, I'd say," she says. "He's mostly been picking around the edges, trying to see if he could find a woman to slip off with him into a quiet corner, hoping for quick fingers and loose morals. Of which there are plenty, in abundance, but none interested in leaving the party for him alone," she says.

"The glory is here, after all," she says, gesturing to the writhing bodies around her, getting a resounding shout of confirmation from the others present. None but she, of course, recognies the arcane layout of the lighting system or the intricate runes carved into the base of the DJ stand. They don't understand that all that pleasure, all that wickedness, all that energy is being fed to her by the place itself, a conduit directly into her darkling soul.

"Since you've finished with business, perhaps, then, I may tempt you with pleasure?"

Tigra has posed:
Tigra frowns. At what, it's unclear. "I don't judge who I'm asked to find. Usually. Even guys like that. It's not my job to worry about what he's into, but when it leads to people who care about him getting worried after everything that's been happening, you can understand why they'd ask someone to track him down." She never did find out what his abilities are, and by the time she turns to look back..he's gone.

This leaves her to look around at what's taking place in the warehouse, some of which causes her tail to flick again a couple more times. The way the place is set up, if there's something special to it she's unaware, unable to tell. Her answer leans toward initial uncertainty. "It's not that I don't like some of what I'm seeing here, but it's a bit loud for me."

Satana has posed:
Satana flicks her tongue against her teeth and mutters a few syllables under her breath. Suddenly, for Tigra, at least, the music seems to dim, growing distant and shuttered, the beat not longer pounding at her bones, as if she were watching it with the television, not on mute, but at least turned most of the way down.

But Satana's voice sounds just the same.

"I have means of rectifying such things. Magic," she says. "I can see that it's touched you," she says, gesturing a glossy black nail towards the amulet. "An intriguing enchantment. It suits you," she says, eying the tigress up and down with a frank and appraising glance.

Tigra has posed:
Tigra reaches up to pat at her ears when the volume is turned down, her expression giving away the fact it was one of the last things she may have expected to have happen. "How..oh." Magic, as it's said, her hands lowering back toward her sides. Satana may notice a bit of the fur tipping her tail to be slightly more puffy, as if charged by some unseen force.

"That's a neat trick, but I wasn't out to have a good time tonight. It's not that this is boring, but.." She pauses at the recognition of her amulet holding magical/mystical abilities, a hint of curiosity lingering. "Why, thank you."

Satana has posed:
Satana crosses her arms over her chest, "Now, why in the world would you -ever- not be out to have a good time? Are you some sort of masochist? Do you despite enjoyment so much that you turn away from it for no good reason? Ah, perhaps you're a religious sort. You don't seem to be wearing a habit, but I'm told modern nuns wear all sorts of things," she says with a wry smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

"I won't chain you here, of course - unless you like that sort of thing. But it seems a shame to waste yourself going off to pursue some mundane task when you could stay by my side and see what kind of mischief you might find."

Tigra has posed:
Tigra laughs. "Religious? God, no," she says, shaking her head. "And if I set foot in a nunnery or whatever they call them, it might not be a pretty sight." If there's a joke in there from Satana, Tigra thinks she's sniffed it out.

However, a quick glance around at the others, and she begins to make her way toward the door again. "That's quite an offer, but..maybe later." Best to get out of here before something more happens.