12304/Hah! I got you now!

Hah! I got you now!
Date of Scene:	05 August 2022
Location:	Cranston Plaza, 40th floor, CEO's office
Synopsis:	June has a very brilliant idea that she's going to blackmail Natasha about her secret identity. And by brilliant, we mean absolutely terrible.
Cast of Characters:	Natasha Cranston, June Connor

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Natasha Cranston has posed:
Cranston Plaza, 40th floor, CEO's office

... Because apparently when you're a bigshot CEO you're too important to work on the ground floor.

    Altitude aside, Natasha's office is fairly low-key for a powerful CEO: Ostentatious, yes, and a clear declaration of power and wealth, but in a surprisingly understated and tasteful way. Of course, the full-size window behind the desk that looks out over some of New York's choicest real estate does a decent job demonstrating that all by itself, but for all its functional utility even the desk she normally sits behind almost certainly costs more than most people earn in a year.

    There are some chairs beyond the one behind the desk, but they are in the far corners; clearly, people who come in here to address the CEO are expected to stand unless explicitly invited to do otherwise.

    It is also currently occupied. Apparently the woman with a tabloid reputation for blowing off meetings to go clubbing chose tonight of all nights to work late. She's behind her desk, looking at whatever her monitor is showing as she's holding a phone conversation in quite passable Japanese.

June Connor has posed:
    Okay, this was the plan. Break into the office. Take a seat at the rich snob's desk, right in that inevitably big executive chair, face the window. When she steps into the office in the morning? Bam. Spin around, and reveal that you got the dirt on her. You know she's a friggin' vigilante. Buy the silence, make out and nobody gets hurt.

    "Holy shit," she pants, looking at the sign which reads Stairs: Level 25. Okay, time for a break. After careful planning of the route, she knew the best way to sneak up and avoid detection was the stair wells. Predictable detection could be skipped if she knew where to skip ahead on the stairs. Her vest containing her gear unzipped, and she fanned it to get some air inside. "Okay, no rush. Just take a break." So she rested a few minutes, and back up the stairs she started.

    Finally, she made it to the 40th floor, out of breath, but that's fine, she had time to wait until morning. Stepping onto the proper finished area from the hot unregulated concrete of the stairwell, she sighs with relief. Air conditioning. Very nice. She zips back up her vest, and pulls out her lockpick kit on the office door. Click. Click, Chink. There it is.

    Into the room she strolls, but it's only a couple of steps that she makes it in when she spots Natasha at the other end of the room. In that big comfy chair. She tilts her head to one side, and knits her brow. Well that changes things.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    There's pretty much nowhere in the office to hide from the person behind the desk; Natasha notices the intruder almost immediately.

    Interestingly enough, she barely misses a beat before she says something that probably boils down to "I'm going to have to call you back, Yamaha-san" and hangs up before turning her attention on June.

    "... If you're here to sell me something I'm going to have to ask you to come back during normal business hours," she comments, polite and courteous as you please but somehow entirely unconcerned as if she's discussing the weather with a random passer-by.

June Connor has posed:
    June doesn't try to hide either. Just gotta run with this. "Nah it's cool," she says as Natasha pretends this is normal. "But I dun think youse want me to be bringin' this up on your regular business day," she comments, a smug grin on her face as she strolls carelessly to the center of the large room. "Nice place," she comments. "Maybe compensating a bit, but nice. Good view. Way you can look down on the peasants below, right?" she asks. "I come sellin' somethin' that I really think youse gonna wanna buy, though."

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Judging by that raised eyebrow, Natasha isn't terribly impressed by June's spiel so far. "Most of the people passing by in the street below make more money with a five minute phone call than most 'peasants' would dream of earning in a year," She replies, the '... or you in a lifetime' going unsaid but not quite unfelt.

    "And if this is another ill-advised attempt at a... What did he call it? An 'insurance policy', please inform your boss that my answer remains unchanged. I trust you can see yourself out the way you came in."

    She moves like she's about to sit back down, dismissing June.

June Connor has posed:
    "My boss," June says with a return of the raised eyebrow. She strolls her way to the edge of the room to take one of the chairs improperly placed away from the desk, and drags it by its back to a more present location in the room's power dynamic. Not the best, but not in the corner. She stradles it backward and sits, placing her arms over the back.

    "My boss is me," she informs Natasha. "And what I'm selling is silence. And please. Please ask me what the silence is about, as if you don't absolutely know what I'm going to say.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    There's an almost imperceptible twitch of the lip as June asserts she's her own boss. "Given that you're clearly dying to tell me whatever it is you're offering to be quiet about, I'm not sure why I should bother to ask," Natasha replies, sounding almost quietly amused.

    She leans slightly back in her seat, which doesn't even have the decency to creak ominously as she does. "But by all means, assume that I have no idea what you're talking about..."

June Connor has posed:
    "You're the Shadow." June clearly has a certain degree of pleasure that comes from announcing it, beyond whatever she hopes to gain. The fact that she knows seems to be in part a victory in and of itself. She leans back, hanging her wrists on the back of the chair to anchor herself as she tips it onto two feet. "Honestly, thought I'd have to wait longer. I mean, aren't you supposed to be out kickin' somebody's ass about now?" She nods to the phone. "Oh, but there's money, that comes first, huh?" The kid has a definite condescension on her perceptions of the priorities.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    This revelation earns June a blank look and a full three seconds of silence. "... I'm sorry, is that name supposed to mean anything to me?" Natasha asks then. "One of those fellows in spandex and a cape with superpowers and probably some unprocessed mental trauma, I take it from your context?"

June Connor has posed:
    "I think the Shadow 'knows'," she answers, throwing the catch phrase back at Natasha with a tilt forward and waggle of her head. "It is /the/ Shadow, right? Not just Shadow. I always figgered it had a 'the' in it. More obnoxious that way. Vigilantes love bein' all dramatic and shit. Tell me I'm wrong, the whole 'knows what's in the heart of man' bullshit."

    June laughs suddenly. Not a friendly laugh. "Oh damn, but I'm a woman, guess that's youse achillie heel, huh? That sucks I bet. Don't worry, I'll keep that one safe for free. As for the rest, no offense, gotta make a livin'. So let's see how I know. Lamont Cranston, youse granpappy, was the first Shadow. Got that off an old friend who is a bit locked up. Wan't even lookin' for that one, just kinda happened." She stands up, circling the chair like a cat toying with a mouse. "He gave it up, cuz hell, he got old, right? Can't keep it up forever. I thought, well shit, his son be the knew one probs, right?" She shakes her head. "But then I got caught by ya's. And youse no man,I was close enough to tell that." She looks at Natasha expectantly. "Gettin' close?"

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Natasha's expression goes from polite confusion to angry scowl when June brings up her father. "If you'd done any homework before coming here with this ridiculous story you'd be aware that my parents were lost at sea when their plane went down more than twenty years ago."

    She takes a breath before continuing. "As to what my grandfather - god rest his soul - may or may not have done, wouldn't you think that if he really were this 'all-knowing' vigilante you're describing, he'd have known enough to keep his son and daughter in law safe?"

    She sits back down, clearly no longer interested in this conversation. "I have no idea which 'old friend' you're talking about might be, but if I were you I'd question their credibility..."

June Connor has posed:
    "I don't need credibility," June answers. "Because let's pretend for a moment that I'm wrong. Youse just another useless billionaire living off the sweat of other people. I leak it, I got cred enough on the street that somebody believes me. Makes your life," she points. "Actual hell." She approaches the desk, and plants her palms on it to lean forward. "Because this is America. Dun matter what you dun, only matters what people think you dun."

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Natasha looks down at those hands on her desk with all the disdain of an upper class capital-L Lady finding something disagreeable on her porch, then back up at June.

    "So just to be sure I have this straight," she says, slowly. "Because of some clearly irrational statements from 'an old friend' you've come to the conclusion that, despite being - as you so eloquently put it - a 'useless billionaire living off the sweat of other people', I moonlight in my spare time as some kind of costumed vigilante detective who beats up criminals... And, being 'your own boss', you decided that the best course of action was to confront me directly, entirely alone, in a nearly empty building that I own lock, stock and barrel, and attempt to blackmail me?"

    She smiles - and all of a sudden there's something different about her eyes, or her expression, or both, but whatever it is is not friendly. Or harmless.

Not harmless at all.

"Have you considered that perhaps you haven't thought this plan through?"

June Connor has posed:
    There's nothing in June's particular pose that says that she is intimidated. But there's something behind her eyes as Natasha points out the situation. Maybe she should have sent a note instead.

    She lifts off the desk. "Well, if I'm wrong, then I guess you can't do shit to me," she says, taking a single backpedal step indicating a readiness. "So, am I wrong? Or we gonna tango? We tied 1-1 right now," Are they? When was the other fight? Well, technically that victory was her managing to escape with the goods, not really winning a fight. The arrogance on this one.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    A middle-aged woman in a pantsuit sitting in an office chair has no business exuding this much menace. Or smiling like that. "Why would I have to? All I'd have to do is press the silent alarm button to call security, and when they show up to subdue you, tell them that I was threatened by an obviously insane woman obsessed with me over some kind of crazy conspiracy theory."

    That smile widens further, looking for all the world like it normally hangs out underwater with just a fin breaking the surface. "Of course, I would have to be heartless indeed to hold the ravings of a madwoman against her; I'd even offer to personally pay to ensure that she'd receive the best mental health care possible, no matter how long it takes..."

June Connor has posed:
    June's smile turns to a scowl. This is going very south. "Fuck you."

    She explodes into motion, a smoke pellet at the ground between them. She turns to the door. She'll figure out how to do this blackmail thing later. She never tried to blackmail someone at this level of social structure, or hero structure for that matter. She charges the door, having heard it lock behind her, and throws all of her weight against it in a drop kick. No time to worry about unlocking the door, she'll just hit it with everything she's got. She strikes the glass door, impacting the glass with enough force that the clear view suddenly turns to mosaic of cracks. Landing among some of the brocken pieces, she kicks violently a few times against it, disrespecting the sharp pieces that cut into her leggings as she makes a hole.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    The door, while decently made, clearly wasn't designed to hold against a very determined - or desperate - ninja, and it comes apart relatively quickly. Of course, that means that the immediate hallway is now something of a walking hazard with a lot of sharp slivers, but that's a less urgent problem than the fact that security almost certainly has been alerted, even if there are no sirens or alarms sounding.

    ... And then even that becomes a secondary worry when Natasha's voice cuts through the last echoes of clattering shards, still entirely composed and unconcerned. "We'll do lunch?"

June Connor has posed:
    "Yeah, rain check," June answers, not looking up to figure out where Natasha's voice may be coming from. "She slides through the broken bottom of the door, and comes up on the other side just as the elevator opens with the security. She doesn't waste time fighting them, barrelling past them into the open elevator. It's not that they aren't capable, she just doesn't give enough time for a regular person to be able to respond as she grabs the rear of the elevator and throws both feet up to kick them out of it. Once again she's on her butt, and scrambles forward to hit a floor. Any floor. 23 is the lucky winner as it just so happens.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    As the doors close the last thing June hears is one of the guards yelling into his radio "She's headed for the elevators, get Ops to lock them down!" but Ops would appear to be slow on the ball, because the lockdown hasn't taken place by the time the doors open on the 23rd floor.

    It's a given that security knows where she got off, so speed is going to be a priority...

June Connor has posed:
    June has many flaws in her skills. She isn't the best fighter. She doesn't usually think things through, and she has no control over her tongue.

    But she is really good at evading people. As the elevator opens. June isn't even there. She had already exited into the service cap on the elevator. Then it was a matter of scaling down a few flights of stairs and pulling the manual mechanism on the elevator shaft to open the doors at floor 21.

    She scrambles out of the elevator, listens for security to pass by, and after they've ascended to the next floor, she's down the flight of stairs. She launches herself down to one side of the stair well to the other, landing and catching the outside railing on each level as she leap frogs down to the bottom floor.

    Yep, there may be security on the first floor, but all she has to do is get to the door. A second smoke bomb is thrown at the front desk as she limp runs her way out the entrance to the building, and into the busy night streets of New York City. She finds an alley to take a breath. "Fuck, I got glass in my ass," she grunts, looking behind her. "Elektra's gonna kill me." She plucks a piece out of her cheek. "How'd you get glass in your ass, June? Oh, you know, I just tried to blackmail the CEO of an international corporate giant who is also a fuckin' superhero, that's all."

    Maybe she should have let Natasha catch her.