Chapter 28: Feline Charm
The night air around the derelict art deco museum was crisp and electric, laced with the clean scent of ozone and the faint, sweet tang of fresh asphalt from a nearby construction zone. Jax perched on a stone gargoyle overlooking the museum's cracked dome, its once-regal marble scarred by time and neglect. The distant clink-clink-clink of metal on stone echoed from the courtyard below, a rhythmic counterpoint to the city's low hum. His tactical jacket was heavy with damp, his knife twirling absently, the blade catching the moonlight. "Gotham gloom matches my mood, but this is my kind of party," he thought, his curious attraction to the mission—and its likely player—growing with every heartbeat.
A sleek shadow moved across the dome—Catwoman, her silhouette fluid and lethal, scaling the marble with impossible grace. Her black suit gleamed like liquid obsidian, her movements a dance of precision, her presence radiating a fierce independence that set Jax's pulse racing. "She's no Vought pawn—she's an artist," he thought, his admiration spiking. Below, a greasy-haired goon in a stolen security uniform fumbled with a cutting torch, its sparks flaring, while three lackeys wielded Vought-grade rifles, their heavy gear clanking. Minor villains, sloppy but dangerous, they were the muscle to Catwoman's finesse.
[SYSTEM: CUMULATE AT 1.]
[HOST INTRIGUE LEVEL: RISING.]
[NO POINTS EARNED.]
Jax dropped into the vault's entry hall, his boots landing silently, his Agility 3 honed by Arc 1's chaos. He kicked a rifle from a goon's hands, the metal clattering across the marble floor. "Didn't anyone tell you two-against-four is way better odds?" he quipped, his voice low and fast, his grin sharp.
Catwoman whirled, her cat-o'-nine-tails snapping out to wrap around a goon's ankle, toppling him with a grunt. Her green eyes glinted in the dim emergency lighting, her musky perfume—a blend of leather and spice—cutting through the dusty air. "Oh, the brooding guy's sidekick? Didn't realize he had a partner who actually talks," she purred, her voice teasing, her smirk a challenge.
Jax slammed a rifle stock into another goon's face, his Strength 5 fluid and precise. "Sidekick? I'm my own disaster magnet, kitten. Just borrowing your spotlight." "Sarcasm levels rising, and she's matching me," he thought, their banter sparking like flint. They moved in sync, Jax drawing fire with brutal efficiency, Catwoman disabling with whip and claw, her movements a blur of elegance. The four villains fell, groaning heaps on the marble, as she cracked the vault door with a sleek electronic device, revealing a humming crystalline conduit—a bizarre fusion of alien tech and Vought's industrial design.
"Looks like we're splitting the insurance claim," Jax said, nodding toward the tech, his breath still quick from the fight.
Catwoman smirked, her fingers deftly extracting the conduit's crystalline core, its hum vibrating faintly. "I'm taking the valuable part. You can have the bad guys." Her satisfaction was palpable, their teamwork igniting a chemistry that transcended Arc 1's fleeting echoes. "From chaos to spark," Jax thought, his heart pounding not just from combat but from her proximity.
[SYSTEM: DANGER LEVEL: LOW-MEDIUM.]
[SUMMON NOT USED.]
[COMBAT VICTORY: +10 SP.]
[CURRENT SP: 385.]
They climbed to the rooftop, the city's lights sprawling below like scattered diamonds, the wind tugging at Jax's jacket, its chill sharp against his sweat-damp skin. Catwoman toyed with the crystal, its faint hum a counterpoint to the distant clink of construction. "So, you take the alien tech, and I get the moral satisfaction of taking down four more Vought suckers. Fair play," Jax said, leaning against the ledge, his knife twirling absently.
She turned, her movements languid and predatory, her perfume lingering as she stepped closer. "Fair play, indeed." Before he could react, she snatched his utility wallet with impossible speed, dangling it by its strap, her smirk wicked. "A small tax for the charming distraction, wildcard."
Jax laughed, a genuine burst of amusement, his heart racing. "Fair play, kitten," he conceded, his hands raised in mock surrender. "How about a rooftop date tomorrow? Better takeout than Gotham's sad chicken, I promise. You bring the secrets, I'll bring the sarcasm." He leaned closer, the wind ruffling his hair, his grin bold.
Her head tilted, the movement feline, her eyes gleaming with seductive promise. "A rooftop date? How very Gotham. Fine. You bring the takeout, I'll bring the secrets. And maybe your wallet." She pulled a burner phone from her suit, tossing it to him with her number, her smirk a spark in the dark.
[SYSTEM: CUMULATE: 2.]
[HOST ROMANCE SUBPLOT ADVANCED.]
[NO POINTS EARNED.]
Jax caught the phone, fumbling a coffee cup he'd grabbed earlier, its lid popping off, spilling dark liquid on his boots. "Wind's a jerk," he muttered, wiping his hand on his jacket, his clumsiness grounding the electric moment. "From chaos to date night," he thought, as Catwoman vanished into the shadows, her purr lingering. Her agenda was a mystery, and Lois Lane's unanswered texts nagged at him, a hint of Clark's jealousy on the horizon. Gotham's gang war loomed, but the thrill of her challenge carried him forward, the city's pulse a siren call.
[SYSTEM: RANDOM FLAVOR: CATWOMAN'S AGENDA DETECTED.]
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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