3485/On the 12th Day of Christmas

On the 12th Day of Christmas
Date of Scene:	26 December 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Red Robin, Tigra

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Red Robin has posed:
    The message comes from a hacked twitter account. It's pornographic website, but the private message was sent 7 times. "I hacked this twitter. This is Red Robin' each message began. 'Pick up your 3 crates, bring unmarked vehicle to pick up' the rest was GPS coordinates that lead to a rundown dock warehouse about 550 yards from where she encountered the Red Robin. The warehouse is abandoned. Power is on, but there are not a lot of lights. If she checks, the lightbulbs have been delicately unscrewed partially in order to darken the area.

    From her days as simply 'The Cat' she likely remembers how much darkness was her friend. If she sniffs around, she can smell him in the area. He's up top in the shadows. He's hid pretty well, if she finds him at all, it's because she has enhanced senses. He's got the three crates, each about 2 feet, by two three feet, by about 5 feet situated out in one of the better lit areas, out in the middle of the warehouse.

    Red Robin has his hood up over his head, and is perched on a ceiling rafter. In one hand is his grapnel gun, in the other his collapsible staff as he silently and patiently waits. He is really quiet, really still, and for a goon in a red outfit, he is really hard to see.

Tigra has posed:
    Tigra knows someone in the Avengers who can check the account, and she finds the source to be amusing. As for the message, it's a lot more believable. And irresistible. She arranges for a truck to visit the warehouse, and observes from above.

    Nothing happens when the truck arrives at the warehouse, so she descends to the street and opens the overhead door. Sometimes a straightforward approach is required, after all.

    Tail swishing, Tigra pads slowly into the warehouse with her senses extended. Listening. Looking. Smelling. She spots the crates but doesn't approach, not yet. "I know you are here." she declares softly. Hands extended, the tail swishes with the same rhythm.

Red Robin has posed:
    Movement up above. His cloak slows his fall, and the grapnel gun stops it with the pop of the gas cartridge. His fall is slow until he is about 6 feet from the floor, where the gun actually stalls it further. With a fingertip movement, the gun retracts the grappling hook, and he drops smoothly to the ground. "Merry Christmas." His business voice says as he lands in a low crouch. "Miss Kitty. Maybe this will make up for me being rude the last time we met." He clicks his weapon and his tool to his belt, and he gives a toss. A zip drive gets sent her way in a lazy arc. "The guys were arrested, but here is the information on their New York contacts. You'll understand why we like to keep Gotham side on the D-L, I mean no disrespect. We can't have you arresting our snitches and the like."

    They must be running quite a bit of intelligence throughout Gotham, which very well might explain why they don't want other organizations too involved. Even SHIELD doesn't have too many hooks in Gotham. "But, an ambitious lady might be able to turn that New York intelligence into a couple more big busts." Is that a joke? he seems serious, and his tone is casual. "Just be careful. We know what happened to the Curious feline?" His lips quirk into a slight smile. It's lop-sided and the only person it mocks is himself. He steps aside to let her inspect the goods. The crates are valuable the intelligence even more so.

Tigra has posed:
    Tigra goes into a crouch when she hears the movement above. Claws out this time, tail extended and poised. Then she hears the voice and relaxes, tail swishing once more. Head cocked, she catches the zip drive without taking her eyes off of him. "I don't arrest people." she replies, with that playful smile.

    Only then does she pad closer to the crates. Reaching out to the nearest crate, she almost touches it with her palm. "Miss Kitty?" she asks after a moment. "Did you mean the woman from that old television show?" Her smile widens and she adds. "I'll be careful with the information. But what about you?"

Red Robin has posed:
    "No. You are a miss. No wedding band. And you are a kitty. Miss Kitty." One can almost detect the cluelessness boil off of him. Must not watch a lot of syndicated television as a Gotham Vigilante. It likely cuts into the brooding time.

    "Do you mean did I gain any insight into the weapons traffic? Short answer? Yes. Quite a bit. Right now we are preparing other, larger raids on materials and stockpiles as we speak. If you are a little nicer this time, maybe I will share some of that with you too, so long as you try to stay out of Gotham with your operations. Batman works with the JLA. I'm willing to play ball with the Avengers, as long as there is some mutual respect going back and forth."

    Its genuine stuff. All Apokoliptian weapons. Some still have a little of the crusted blood from the previous owner on them.Looks like 10-12 pieces per case. it's a decent haul. Not a massive one, but these are dangerous shipments harder to track these small ones. "You can even take credit." he quietly teases. he remains out of the way, letting her inspect the material.

Tigra has posed:
    Tigra lifts a brow. "Not the saloon keeper from 'Gunsmoke', then?" she quips back. "But no, I didn't mean what about the information. Or the weapon trafficking. Or cooperation with the Avengers." She does crouch down and unsheath her claws to pry open the crate, however. The inspection is brief, mostly a few sniffs is enough.

    She nods. Yes, they're the genuine article alright. "I was referring to your manners, which definitely seem to have improved." Rising again, she cocks her hip and folds her arms over her chest. Just like she did at their last visit. "And I -was- nice last time. I didn't use my claws when I hit you."

Red Robin has posed:
    "I was cold?" He quips. The grin goes right back. "I'm used to dealing with thugs, morons, superstitious and cowardly criminals. Sometimes, I fail to recognize a lady fro what she is. It's a failing."

    he pauses a long moment. Obviously the next words come to him in a difficult way. "I... am sorry for being rude." Ugh, He hates that. The mask and his drilled instincts mitigate the obvious displeasure he has at being sorry and even worse, admitting he was wrong. Ugh.

    "I'm glad on the claws. They would make for awkward questions and answers. Scars like that might make a guy move to a full cowl." His pose is that deceptively easy, relaxed stance of his. He appears cool, calm, collected because he is. The nonchalance is fake though. He's a coiled spring.

    "The catwomen I am accustomed to usually appreciate a little trashtalk. I'll remember you don't, Avenger."

Tigra has posed:
    The tail continues swishing playfully, which he'd know is a good sign. "That makes me wonder which you mistook me for; a thug, a moron, or a criminal." Those dark lips twitch into a wry smile again. Her head tilts when he apologizes, and her brows lift at the admission.

    "We are technically on the same side, even if our approaches are sometimes different. Being rude doesn't earn my full strength and it definitely doesn't earn my claws." She pauses for a moment. "Thank you for the apology. I can tell that doesn't come easy for you. But I won't apologize for hitting you, because you were being an ass. And I would do it again."

    Gesturing towards the crates, then, she adds. "I do thank you for this, however. And for the information. I don't know who you're used to dealing with, but I don't talk trash. I do like to play, however."

Red Robin has posed:
    "Play means different things to different people." Red Robin replies in a quiet tone. Outwardly cool as a cucumber. Inwardly, he is wondering where the hell Nightwing is. He'd know if she was flirting. He'd give him a clue. It kind of feels like she's flirting, but? With him? His slender coal-black brows knit as he processes his thoughts and regards her.

    "I'll remember that you like to be treated like a lady, when I come into contact with you again. I cannot promise I will continue to contact you on Twitter though. it's a pain to make that hard to track. The whole platform is designed to sell stuff." If she had tech support search it, it got bounced between about six known hacker groups in the Ukraine, Russia, and North Korea. If they bothered to put it back together after all that, and continue to track it, it originated from a Siberian prison in Russia. After that, there is no IP traffic or data to follow. If they can eliminate that data, all the bouncing of IP data off the hackers is just a dick move, and is designed to discourage further research.

    "If the Batman say no data sharing, that is the end of it. But I can definitely see him okaying back door interactions under the table, and on the side through less official means. We have a lot of work to handle here, in Gotham. I am a Titan though, I have protocols with them, if you really need to get in touch with me. Assuming, of course, that data is of interest to you and you want to keep this channel open."

Tigra has posed:
    "Well my thought processes are about as feline as my appearance, Red. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Tigra replies. Her stance shifts again, that swishing tail remaining as playful as her smile. Is she flirting? Nightwing would definitely give that a thumbs-up. "You do know that there's a difference between treating me like a Lady and treating me like a Woman, however."

    "And as for contacting me again, we don't have to make it difficult. I live at the Avenger's Mansion, and there's a phone message service. Call or e-mail works; you can even use a dead-drop phone if you really want to be sneaky about it. I can definitely help you out, here. The Avengers do run larger missions, but we tend to have a good amount of downtime as well."

Red Robin has posed:
    "Perhaps I will. There anything I should say so you'll know it is me, Miss Kitty?" Red Robin asks, as he tilts his head to the side. His left arm slides over his stomach in a casual gesture that if she gets to know him better she will know means he feels vulnerable. "I mean, do I address it to Tigra, or to the loveliest Avenger." He goes with a flirty line. His body language remains casual. Hey, he deals with gorgeous women all the time. They are just usually more interested in the big, bad Bat or the pretty boy Nightwing. The Batgirls, without Tim knowing it, have made death glares at other women to keep their 'brother' out of trouble.

    He regrets it though. It's a crappy line. "I can do better." He just announces it. "I can. That was a crap line. Sincere, but crap." His tone remains casual as he critiques himself. "Give me a real chance, and I'll knock your socks off." His gaze dips down. She is not wearing socks. "Maybe I already did..."

Tigra has posed:
    Tigra's eyes brighten when he actually drops a flirty line, and she actually shows some teeth with her smile. Sharp teeth. "There isn't any -wrong- way to do this, Red." she replies. And when he mentions socks she wiggles those bare, furred toes. "But no, I don't usually do well with socks. At least not as Tigra." What did she mean by that?

    "I have a more human side. Maybe you'll get to see for yourself sometime. But I'd definitely like to give you a real chance to 'knock my socks off', as you say." The tail swishes more briskly and her green eyes flicker. "You've got me curious now."

Red Robin has posed:
    His heart rate kicks up. "Then come here." Is he going to do this? Is he really going to do this? She's an Avenger?

    He regards her seriously. It dawns on him that she doesn't see Tim Drake, nerdy younger brother to Dick and Jason. She doesn't see Barbara's little computer buddy, or any of that. She sees Red Robin. His shoulders square a little. "Well, curiosity is bad for cats, sometimes. Maybe this time it's a good thing?"

Tigra has posed:
    Tigra doesn't step closer, she *slinks* like her namesake. One footstep lands in the previous, putting an exaggerated sway in her walk. In a lot of ways she's more graceful and controlled than a runway model. And in other ways she's a dangerous predator.

    Green eyes wide, her tail swishes more rapidly and Tigra licks her lips with anticipation. Is she going to like this game? SHe certainly hopes so. Nostrils twitch visibly as she approaches, letting scent as well as sight and sound guide her. "Maybe it is and maybe it isn't...?" she murmurs.

Red Robin has posed:
    If she were to ask him which part he preferred; the lady or the tiger, he couldn't say. The formative women of his adolescence are all warriors. Cassandra. Barbara. Shiva. Kate. To him, women should be tough, graceful, and maybe a little predatory. At the very least confident, skilled, and dangerous. This one is all of that.There is an awful lot of his adopted father in him too, and that seems to include some slight weakness for women of this ilk.

    It occurs to him that while she might smack him around, there is a free pass here. How often is he going to see her if this goes south. The lack of a real consequence emboldens him. They are about the same height. His hand attempt to settle on her hip. His other runs over her cheek, by her ear, behind it and tangles into her hair. His breath is minty, his pulse is pounding. He smells clean, a little excited, and slightly nervous. He's definitely interested.

    Someone taught him how to give a kiss. It must be a vigilante thing, or an undercover thing, or a spy thing, or some sort of thing, as he will lay one on her unless she stops him. Confident. Sure. Bold. A little tongue, slightly open mouth, with it deepening if its returned.

    His pulse rate shoots up a little more. She can feel his shoulders tighten though, as if to prepare for a physical reprisal. Knowing he could get smacked around for doing it, he does it anyway.

    Way too much Batman in him for his own good.

Tigra has posed:
    Those green eyes remain wide as he reaches for her hip. The woman's fur is silky-soft and warm, with rippling muscle beneath. When he touches her cheek in that caress her eyelids grow heavy and she -leans- into his palm. One hand comes to rest upon his shoulder in return, then the other mimics the gesture. Her breathing quickens, nostrils flaring. Yes, she picks up a change in his scent. And she likes it.

    Tigra's hair is soft and flowing, if a bit windblown, and her own lips part as he eases closer still. She senses this is coming and she doesn't pull back. Tigra meets the kiss readily, lips parting. She follows his lead, deepening the kiss quite readily. A strong hand cups behind his neck, holding him there. Not forcefully, but firmly all the same.

    And Tigra won't be the first to breatk the kiss.