The One, The Only [IC] (Closed)

[Avenger Assembled]

It was a deeply annoyed Avenger who called Scarab a few minutes later, having taken the time out to swear violently in as many languages as he knew. "Exceedingly aggravating. Will give you more details when you arrive." He'd taken the liberty of moving up and out of the gallery proper, letting the arriving police down below deal with the aftermath of the threat. "Not a very good fighter. But very fast."

[N/A]

The Scarab glared coldly at the note as she crumpled it into a ball. She floated out the door and down the stairs, where she ran into the police charging up the steps. "The bomb threat was empty. It was meant to distract us. Keep the bomb squad from trashing the scene. Get forensics up there, and call the detective in charge of the museum burglary. Tell him this penthouse was Bombshell's hideout."

Before the police could ask her any questions, she spread her cape behind her, dove feet-first down the center of the stairwell, and disappeared from sight before she hit bottom.

Across the street and still cloaked from the eyes and minds of any observers, The Scarab accessed a payphone and dialed the number on the note.

[alderwitch]

The voice on the end was a touch breathless from her recent encounter. When she spoke, it was not unfamiliar. The cadence was upper-class British by way of a husky lounge-singer's drawl. It was a rather singular accent. Distinctive. "Sneaky, you know. I wasn't expecting to encounter one of your little friends. Before you start looking, this is a track phone. When I hang up, its going in the trash. Just to get that out of the way. I do hope my reputation precedes me."

[N/A]

"Sneaky, you know. I wasn't expecting to encounter one of your little friends."

"That is the advantage of my side of the law - friends. People you can rely on."

"Before you start looking, this is a track phone. When I hang up, its going in the trash. Just to get that out of the way.

"And this is a payphone. Neither one of us will trace the others call. No police on my end. I decided to respect your desire to keep our reunion a private affair."

"I do hope my reputation precedes me."

"What reputation is that? A petty thief with delusions of grandeur, an overinflated sense of nationalism, and a rather unorthodox view concerning property rights? Your reputation has faded into obscurity. Fortunately, my memory will suffice. They let you out of prison too early."

[alderwitch]

"Well, your pedantic views on the law and all its wonders are certainly in line with your predecessors," Bombshell drawled through the connection before her tone sharpened, "As for prison, you have no understanding what-so-ever of the circumstances surrounding it. Everything is so black and white for you. To you, I'm simply a petty thief with delusions of grandeur. Fine. If you intend to live up to the legacy you claim to be worthy of, it should be a piece of cake to sweep up one more low-life."

Her tone became business like, "The vase was personal. I wasn't counting it against you and despite the rather brutish man that tried to interfere, I still won't."

[N/A]

"What was there to understand? You betrayed your comrades because you weren't as bloodthirsty as you were treacherous. Though to give credit where credit was due, for the first time in your life since the war, you actually did the right thing. And I should be worthy of the legacy. After all, I established it."

"You must be out of practice, Natalya. A vase from the Plaza lobby? A simple roof-entry museum job? These heists are beneath you. Maybe you should let go of the grudges and the bitterness, stop playing games, and apply those amazing talents of yours toward something worthwhile. It's not too late. Think of all the good you could do."

[alderwitch]

"You know, I've heard that speech before. The last time, I spent thirty years in prison for my troubles. Tempting, but no. After all, I've already caught up on my reading," Bombshell replied wryly, dismissing the Scarab's claims of being the same individual with an airy wave on the other end. "Besides, what sort of good could 'a petty thief with delusions of grandeur, an overinflated sense of nationalism, and a rather unorthodox view concerning property rights' manage to accomplish anyways?"

"As much fun as our little chat has been, I'm afraid I'm running out of minutes, and I did have something I wanted to say before the phone goes dead: good luck, darling. You're going to need it."

[N/A]

As the line went dead, The Scarab glared coldly at Bombshell's note. Her fist crumpled it into a ball.

She met up with Avenger in the command center of her Lair a few minutes later. She brought up a copy of Bombshell's mugshot photo on the main screen. Smaller candid photos of her in-costume showed up along the perimeter of the screen. "This is what we know so far. Natalya Browning, a.k.a., 'Bombshell.' British national. Worked as a spy for the Allies during World War 2. After the war, she made a name for herself as a world-class burglar, specializing in art and artifacts of British origin. A self-styled Robin Hood, returning them to 'their rightful owners.' She should be in her 90s, but somehow, she's discovered a way to sidestep the aging process. As soon as she was released from prison, she picked up right where she left off. She's motivated by pride and an addiction to adrenaline. She's also a low-level mutate of some kind, and unfortunately, the nature of her powers is to stymie mine. And she knows it. She knows how I think, how I operate, so my usual tactics are worthless."

"Her messages to me indicate that she wants a competition between us. The stakes are the items recovered from her previous heists. She already has one of them, the vase, but she said 'it doesn't count; it's personal.' Given that we were never able to figure out any monetary or historical value for that piece, I believe her."

"That leaves the following list of potential targets, stored locally:" The Scarab pressed a few buttons on the console as she spoke. When each item was mentioned, it showed up briefly on the main screen, then shrank down and zoomed down to the side.

• [*:207td080]A 14th century Tapestry of King Arthur, in a museum
  [*:207td080]A 16th century Sapphire Necklace, back in the hands of its original owner (she stole that one right off the woman's neck)
  [*:207td080]A 1st Edition copy of Alice In Wonderland (her first heist in F.C.), in the hands of a private collector
  [*:207td080]A 1st Edition copy of A Study In Scarlet (the first Sherlock Holmes story), in the hands of a private collector
  [*:207td080]A folio of DaVinci sketches, in the hands of a private collector
  [*:207td080]"The Hireling Shepard," a painting by William Holman Hunt, in a museum
  [*:207td080]"Salisbury Cathedral," a painting by John Constable, in a museum
  [*:207td080]"A Welsh Sunset River Landscape," a painting by Paul Sandby, in storage at a museum warehouse

[Avenger Assembled]

Avenger took a massive shot in the dark. "Not the necklace." He tapped the list. "The original owner would be how old, now, after thirty years?" He was very thoughtful. "The woman you described to me and the woman I met today wouldn't rob an old lady. Even a rich one." And when did _I_ develop such a faith in humanity? He ran his fingers over the list. "You said she knew you. Tell me about Alexander Rhodes." He looked up at Elena. "Which of these would he want the most to protect?"

[N/A]

"Definitely the tapestry" The Scarab answered without hesitation. "It holds the most sentimental value for me, since..." She hesitated, then sighed. "Most of the story is embellished, and cobbled together from half a dozen different legends. But Heru-Ra wasn't the only time I was born into nobility, my queen really did cheat on me with my best friend, and when Tan'Aktor reincarnated as my half-sister, she did...unspeakable things in that lifetime. In every lifetime."

[Avenger Assembled]

Avenger cocked his head and looked at Scarab, wishing once again he'd paid more attention in history class. Does that mean...yeah, I guess it does! "King Arthur, eh? Suppose that makes her Robin Hood." He nodded. Can't believe I know King Arthur. Let's move there then," he suggested, tapping the list with his fingers. "Never did like thieves. Seems...immoral." It was a strange, if honest admission from a vampire.

[N/A]

The Scarab shook her head. "But she doesn't know that it holds any sentimental value for me. My reincarnation is not a matter of public record." She crossed her arms and scanned the items on the viewscreen for a few moments, then pointed to the copy of Alice In Wonderland. "This was her first "score," back in the day. Her debut into the Freedom City underworld. If she's feeling nostalgic, I think she'd start there."

The Scarab sat back down, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. "I can't necessarily rely on my extrasensory abilities in this situation, but they are not completely useless." She pushed her consciousness against the flow of time, to see what the future may hold.

[alderwitch]

Scarab began to push her enlightened mind towards the future, finding that it took more effort than usual to push back the veil of then-and-now. Focusing on the blonde bombshell's felonious activity, Scarab felt time compress. All of the woman's immortal life stretching out before her smashed into a chaotic jumble of image shards that made little coherent sense. Finally order emerged from the chaos, one blindingly clear moment.

It was late. Late at night, and the rug below her - his - feet had that so very distinctive swirl of browns and golds iconic to the sixties. There was the solid flesh on flesh sounds of combat inter-mixed with breathy laughter and a man's gutteral curses. Raven - the first Raven - tumbled through the field of vision and crashed into a delicately spindly desk behind a velvet rope. The desk had been both french and old, with that too fragile look that so many pieces like it have.

'Oh, now look what you've done!'

[N/A]

The Scarab shook her head rapidly, clearing the cobwebs from her mind as she focused back on the present. "My intuition is correct. The Lewis Carroll is the next target. I should have known from her first note. The riddle goes 'How is a raven like a writing desk?' Except her note asked 'When?' not 'How.' On that first heist, she faced The Raven. And she merged victorious, the two casualties of that battle being an antique desk, and The Raven's pride. Let's go." She took to the air.

[alderwitch]

They made their way swiftly to the well-aportioned manor that the private collector in question called home. The particular individual who had picked up this fine volume was of the new money. The manor lacked any real panache that you might find in North Bay, but it screamed both 'I have a lot of money' as well as 'I have very little taste' It did however have a very pricey looking security system. Scarab was able to tell from a distance that from the blinking lights on the outside of the house, no alarm had been tripped.

Also, she noticed down the block was a rather odd scene. An unconcious man appeared to be bungie-corded to a lamp post with a little old lady standing over him in some sort of odd watch. The woman in question looked to be well past her sixties and she was clutching a battered purse while frowning at the groggy-would-be thief. She had a cell phone clutched in her hand and was looking down the street, first one direction and then another.

[Avenger Assembled]

"Shall we do this?" suggested Avenger, heading for the fence. "Can be in without tripping alarms. Inspect the grounds on the way. Meet you inside?" He didn't pay much attention to what was on the street; after all, they'd come here for the house, not whatever was around it. "Think I prefer your method of travel to foot. See anything?"

[N/A]

The Scarab pointed to the old lady down the street. I would guess one of our masked brethren foiled a mugging, and the wronged party is just being diligent about pressing charges. But I'd appreciate it if you'd go investigate, just in case. I'll meet you inside. Still psychically cloaked from the eyes and ears of all but Avenger, The Scarab floated down to the art collector's residence, searching for a window, or a door near a window, that would allow her discreet entry.

[alderwitch]

It wasn't overly difficult for someone of Scarab's significant psychic accumen to find a window that allowed her to see both the alarm as well as the lock. After that it was a simple enough trick to tell the lock it ought open for her and not set off the alarm with some telekinetic finesse. She floated in through the opening, concealed to the eyes of any within the house. There appeared to be cameras nestled in the corner of each room but it was clear that none of the cameras were on. Convienently.

There appeared to be a rather snooty party going on in the large and formal dining room. Roughly a dozen or so of the city's social climbing new money. Now, stealing a priceless first edition from under the nose of several buffons - that was right up Bombshell's alley.

----------------

Outside, as Avenger snuck closer to the little old lady, a few things became quite clear. This little old lady was both very small and frail, nothing like the acrobatic blonde he'd fought earlier. The mugger had a goose egg on his temple, most likely from a nasty blow to the head. Most oddly, the bungie cord was actually one of those super strong tensile coils that was favored among the leaping and climbing set of supers. The edge of it had been cut, obviously by something very sharp but the knots themselves were quick and haph-hazard. Avenger probably could have been standing five feet in front of this woman and she'd blink myopically at him. The lenses of her smeared glasses were almost half an inch thick.

----------------

While Avenger was investigating outside, Scarab made her way upstairs towards the library. Upon entering, it was clear that this time Scarab was just in the nick of time. Wearing a leather cat suit that looked painted on, Bombshell was delicately disabling the case that enclosed the book. Thick gold hair trailed down her back, covering one eye as she manipulated the wires within the electronic panel that she'd already cracked open. Considering the last time she'd been active, locks had been much simpler creatures, her fingertips moved with a rather frightening level of competence, snipping and twisting the wires together.

As for how she got in, the skylight was cracked and.... what looked like a garden hose? Yes, apparently her method in, and presumably out, had been sliding down a garden hose into the library.

[Avenger Assembled]

With the old lady clearly no threat, Avenger disappeared into smoke and fog, joining Scarab inside the library after a few moments of awkward searching. He started a bit at the sight of Bombshell, but opted to let Scarab speak first. He'd been hanging around superheroes long enough to know that you didn't stand between someone and their arch-nemesis, even one as annoying (and kind of hot) as Bombshell. He did get between her and the door, though, ready to spring if whatever the Scarab had in mind didn't work.