16048/Tiger Trap

Tiger Trap
Date of Scene:	09 October 2023
Location:	Spiral's Body Shop
Synopsis:	Mutated animals are sent to chase and capture Tigra, but are introduced to a topsy-turvy situation where the hunters can become the hunted. As more of the creature try and converge on Tigra, Spiral just happens to appear and offer a means of quick escape. The two are transported to the Body Shop where sanctuary and sightseeing are on offer. And more.
Cast of Characters:	Spiral, Greer Grant

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Spiral has posed:
    It's late, it's dark, and someone has been stalking someone who really shouldn't be stalked. Are they fans or simply so bereft of a Darwinian sense of personal safety? To someone of extraordinary senses, there are clues to how many. Perhaps a handful of five at first, but over the past few minutes they have collected and gain in number to threaten a Baker's dozen. They're doing their best to trail, but they're aren't as amazing. Not that they aren't ~good~, but few can measure up to the experience and cunning of Tigra.

If they're seeking a place to converge, these quiet shadows. Not exactly human, but they are humanoid. At least those trying to follow via street-level. But, there is a curious sliding sound, of the unnatural glide of augmentation that's artifical. And some try to stay at roof-top level in the city.

Greer Grant has posed:
    There's not many who could stalk Tigra, especially not for long. For a few moments, possibly, especially if she was distracted. There's no tiger-sense to tingle for her. Beyond the briefest times, though, you have to really know what you're doing for her to not catch hints of your presence, be it an out of place sound here, a incongruous scent there, or a glimpse in a shadow impenetrable only to merely human sight. At that point, the old cliche of the hunter and the hunted tends to apply, as it does in this case. The tigress finds a deep enough patch of shadow, out of the way enough, to slip into and make herself practically unseen. She slows her breathing and goes still, save for the tip of her tail, as she waits for sign of her stalkers.

Spiral has posed:
    The wait in shadow produces results. They creep forward as if on cue and overshoot Tigra's hidden position. Their progress falters as they pass the point of receiving reliable intel, and loping humanoid shapes show signs of nervous agitation. The smell of something verminous, something canine, from this mixed bunch. Ears atop angular heads as they turn this way and that. Twitching and glossy noses. The sound of nails and claws scratching upon asphalt and pavement. Snuffling as some bend their bodies to snoof at the ground to try and recapture the scent of their quarry.

    Half-rat, half-doggo, ranging between five and seven feet tall, they look the product of the island of Dr. Moreau ~if~ he had access to a cybernetics laboratory adjacent to his flesh pits. For what it's worth, the artifical limbs to augment legs and arms, tails and eyes have been dulled (or hooded in the case of optics) to avoid reflecting ambient light.

    One of the Hounds, taller than the rest, starts to double back and grabs a rat-assassin by the neck and hoists it into the air. "Your fault." A growl from the dangerous dober-man. "Where is she?"

    "Not not my fault. Not not! Your fault, your stink smell overpowers. Wet moist dog dog."

    The tall cybercanine starts to strangle his tracker, lifting it higher and wuffs in a mix of static and distortion. "Find Kitten. Take Kitten. Restrain Kitten. Nooooow."

    Rooftop henches perch, approximately six, swinging their heads around while the others fan out, overturning trash, shoving fire escapes and objects with little discretion or sneakiness. Loud and crashing, they try and tear the place apart looking for their target. The anxiety of them rockets, the smell of fear and terror and anger. Primal urgency flooding the location.

Greer Grant has posed:
    Nostrils flare as Tigra drinks in the scents of her hunters when they pass her by, shifting her position ever so slightly to keep a better view of them. She frowns at the sight of the creatures, and has to fight down a growl, partly due to species enmity, and partly due to anger at the violations that seems to have been committed against them. Fingers flex lightly, readying her claws as she watches them start to turn on each other, and frown turns, briefly, into a smirk. Not that different from humans.
    Clearly they're after her, but why she doesn't know, and watching them isn't going to reveal that information. She waits and watches as they separate, then tenses her muscles and leaps out at the closest one to her position, lashing out hard and fast to try to incapacitate it quickly while she has surprise against their numbers.

Spiral has posed:
The Hound that blunders about, blindly seeking their target, seems more like a mole than a mastiff. What with the way their frustration and excess energy has them pawing about like they're trying to unearth Tigra. The sound of its breath is louder and louder the closer it gets, and perhaps a hint of Tigra is what spurs it onwards with a hunger. Yes! The scent! A hint of that natural perfume or pheromone, triggering crazy instincts deep within its tweaked cortex. There's a whine of anticipation as it closes and finds...Nothing. No wait!

    Its paws and claws scrape, the optical replacement for one eye going wide and bright green before it is set upon from stealth. The attack comes from another location entirely and catches it completely by surprise. It doesn't even have a chance to bark a warning before it is felled by a strength and speed that its augmentations are not proof against. Up close, it has definitely seen the attention of someone concerned with trying to raise the advantages of a Canine hybrid. When it's lights out for it, it twitches in a kind of spasm of energy like electricity is pouring out of it. At the base of its neck, a collar, but one that looks of high-tech and high-humiliation factor. Not only does it bear whatsits and gadgets and blinking bits, but it has a nametag that makes a mockery of pet ownership: Fid0

Greer Grant has posed:
    She lets the growl out that she'd been holding in earlier, at the sight of the collar. If she gets her hands on whoever's behind this, she's going to take it out of their hide(s). She reaches down to tear the collar apart, then spins about, eyes bright int he darkness as she looks for her next target. There! She spots the closest cyber-beast to her and leaps at it, going for a hard tackle and grapple, trying to slam it down hard, drive the breath from it and incapacitate it before leaping off of it, trying to stay in motion before any of the others can notice or track her.

Spiral has posed:
The next closest foe is one of the rat-things. Trying to uplift them towards humanity hasn't done it any favours in the looks department. All those vermin features are far from a mouse and harshly veered towards sewer-lurking sorts. The fur of the thing bristles and its mouth opens wide with a terrified shriek that doesn't quite get out all the way. Bright yellow teeth mix amongst a pair of titanium fangs and piston-strong jaws. A hiss of steam and fury and fear hush out with the foul stink of chemicals and breath. The hands of the thing flex as it is grabbed, and steel talons extend with vicious barbs of jagged metal. The slam takes it down effectively, and the tension in the creature goes from adamantium feeling to a bag of flesh and a loose toolbox. It can't grab a breath and its head is rung like a bell so all it can do it silently scream up into the night. This one doesn't have a collar, but it has ear-tags that begin to blink rapidly now that it is out of the fight.

    The tactic to stay on the move is good, as the other converge on fallen comrades, always one step behind it seems and trying to catch up. Howls, mournful and eerie, issue from the throats of the hounds, and a cordon of humanoids try to create a shrinking perimeter to the quarry that never stays put.

    "I smellll her! I smell her! Get her! Get her!"

    "Chase! Bring down! My teeth hunger my throat achessssss!"

    "No kill no kill! Catch fast! Squeeze hug! Strangle! strangle!"

    "Stretch tail! Wear ears! Wear skin like cloak!"


"No no! Obey! Obey!"

    The rat things are faster as they surge down the alley nearby, crazed and murderous, on a whole seeming to lose their coherency of mission. Their instincts going haywire.

Greer Grant has posed:
    They may not be attractive, but they're also gifted with unpleasant personalities, and poor dental care. Their stench is remarkable, and memorable, and Tigra hopes it will help find their creators. Those details are noted briefly in the back of her mind, though, neural nuggets not consciously thought of, filed away for later, as the rat creature's scream summons its...allies? Friends? Pack? The others, anyway. The ear-tag is noted as something worthy of a closer look, when she's not fighting for her life.
    She leaps up onto a nearby wall, toe and finger claws digging in for purchase before she backflips off of it to land behind one of the beasts with a loud roar, hoping the cry of a predator will hit panic buttons in hind brains. Two quick jabs lash out, going for where she thinks the kidneys ought to be, and then a crouching kick to try to send it prone and prep for her next leap, trying to keep clear of nasty looking claws and talons. She's tougher than a human, but those things will cut right through her.

Spiral has posed:
The unpleasant looking and smelling creature that Tigra leaps behind becomes aware far too late of the switch between predator and prey. It is rather awesome in a way, how even with its hyper-augmented senses are in second place, compared to the real deal that is Tigra.

That noise that Tigra makes has her target's frame turn into a tense scarecrow shape. Some auto-reaction to threat. There's a hiss, but it's from chemicals attempted to be pumped into the creature's body. It's too late.

One-Two. It's kidneys suffer severe impacts that seem to sap its Will to live, a high keening from its throat before its sent to the ground by that kick. Expensive noises come from the cranium of the creature, and it seems unable to gasp even a warning. The creature shudders as muscles try to make it be combat ready and upright, but the pain is too intense to follow through.

~SSSSSNAP~ Flashes of purple and green light go off like flashbulbs down different alleys. Signals that seem to instill great alarm in the Tigra's pursuers. They howl with more feral tones, becoming mindless, pure fight and flight.

A warm glow appears up higher, near a rooftop of one of the neighboring buildlings. A silhouette appearing of a fit woman, who comes to stand on the edge and peer downwards at the maze of alleys. A hand goes to her brow, as if needing to shade it from the sun that isn't out. Her voice echo and bounces oddly. "My my, urban renewel isn't quite a priority here...is it?"

Greer Grant has posed:
    It's with a savage snarl that Tigra's lashing out at the creatures. These monstrosities had no choice in being made like this, and she takes no joy in putting them down, only looking forward to finding their creator. Then we'll see.
    Her tail lashes at the keening sound from her throat, her hindbrain encouraged by it, her empathy triggered by it. She moves to quickly end its suffering, then tenses and looks about at the flashing of lights that lead to more disturbing howls. She adds a roar to the howls, hoping to emphasize the flight half of that reaction, to send them scattering back to where they came from.
    The sound of a voice above draws her attention and she glances skyward briefly, not wanting to take her attention away from more immediate threats. "Are these your creations?" she growls.

Spiral has posed:
The inhuman pursuers roar and snarl, as if these new flashes had started to afflicted them with ~motivational pain~. They certainly give off scents of animals in life or death situations. Their glands and the like doing what glands do, but with the added stink of artificial additives. It's a strange feedback loop, how they respond to the challenge that Tigra vocalizes. Their target so close, dangerously, lethally close. No easy pickings, and they've come across her handiwork. The canines bark and snarl, goading their more cowardly verminous comrades to skitter and creep closer to Tigra's position. The smell of death soaks this alley. Artificial eyes glow balefully and maws open to display their fangs.

Up above, the woman crouches and beckons with one hand. She's got...six of them. They unfold like a kind of optical illusion of body origami. Her lips pull back, a grimace as she glances upon the carnage that Tigra has inflicted. "These crude things? These..." she narrows her eyes. "These look like the work of the Evolutionary. These look like Ani-men, or a sort." she snaps a series of six fingers, which makes the portal behind her start a montage of images to locales flash in rapid succession. It's like a Wheel of Misfortune with some of the ~interesting~ dimensions being spun through.

"Come! Sanctuary from these ugly things! Through my portal! These things are beneath you, an insult to your abilities." That last part is said with a quirk of her lips. "Or...would you prefer their complete erradication?"

Greer Grant has posed:
If one of them gets too close to her, Tigra lashes out at it with claws feet or fingers, sending it scurrying back to its brethren. A snarl here and there tries to underscore it. "The Evolutionary? Great," she growls. Another brief glance skyward, and then a double take at the unfolding arms. "Spiral," she says in recognition, a not exactly pleased recognition though. She might've caught the woman's scent, if the stink of the beasts didn't overwhelm her. "Are you stalking me, now?"
    Another of the creatures gets too close and she drops into a spinning kick to smack it aside. She's not so sure that she would agree that these things are beneath her, and she's not sure about going anywhere with someone like Spiral, but nasty as these things are, she doesn't want to hurt them further. "As long as you're offering, let's get out of here," she agrees, leaping up to one side of the alley, then up and higher to the other and then flipping up to the rooftop near the six-armed woman.

Spiral has posed:
"You really are a marvel, Tigra." Spiral says, under her breath, almost too quiet to hear. Her observation of the display that sends a rat-like monstrosity scurrying back, twitching and writhing, timid but goaded into action. Spiral shows her own teeth. "My dear, can you blame anyone for trying?"

The offer of escape comes with the addition of a magical field of force to appear after Tigra makes the ascent look like poetry in motion. Little six-sided shields of temporary see-through magic to blunt a snout or claw. Delaying the ascent of the scrabbling hangry masses trying to follow.

"Yes, lets get you away from here." Spiral purrs, gesturing towards her portal so that the montage stops its spinning and settles on an oval that displays a room that's well lit and clean. A far cry from the alley currently. She sways as she walks, her arms beginning to weave the locks on her interdimensional to close, with a delay of course. "Lickity split, mind your tail!"

Greer Grant has posed:
It's possible Tigra hears Spiral's compliment, and if she did, well she could hardly blame the woman. She doesn't comment on it, though. The question, she does address. "I suppose not. especially the sort of person who'd make these things." She watches the display of magic shields to effectively discourage and delay pursuit. "Nicely done," she murmurs in approval, before nodding in agreement, agreement made cautious by Spiral's purr.
    Very few of the places that were showing on the portal looked particularly attractive, to say the least. More than one looked like the sort of place that would have drawn down property values in Mordor. The well lit and clean looking room, though, is reassuring, and she moves to follow Spiral, a feline sway of her own. With a thought she flicks her tail in close to a striped leg, making doubly sure it's clear of the portal before it closes, a detail to prevent de-tailing.

Spiral has posed:
The portal snaps shut like a steel trap once both women have traversed the thin membrane between one place and the next. The distortion of air pressure is brief, like the ascent in an airplane, before the new norm asserts itself. Tendrils of sorcery dissipate into brief sinuous serpents, harmless, and seek places to curl and slide around before blinking out of existence.

"The sort of person that would commit such...grotesque and unharmonious changes in living things...I shudder to think of the state of that individual's soul. Thankfully, it's not something you'll need to concern yourself with at the present. Don't worry yourself at all, dear. You're quite safe here in my Body Shop."

If an interior designer was involved with this lounge, they had some bullet points: Curvy. Colorful. Well lit. Comfortable. Thick rugs. Abstract Art. A number of doors, like airlocks, reside on two opposite walls. Where rugs don't cover, the floor is glass, and looks upon a void that doesn't present a bottom.

"Now, if I was to make something beautiful, I would spare no expense towards the uniqueness of the individual. I would not be proud to churn out identical minions, as if from...Walmart." Spiral muses and turns to face you. "Where you bitten? Scratched? Perhaps what would be best is a short examination. The Evolutionary tends to add all manner of contagion and nano hitchhikers with his refuse." A short biting of her lip. "I have a device that I affectionately call a de-louser. I use it whenever I have to tread back from Mojoworld or the Hells, just in case. Are you thirsty?" Spiral swerves between Host and Doctor, gossiper and debutante.

Spiral has posed:
"Where are my manners...would you like a Tour?" Spiral smiles sweetly.