16755/Those abandoned malls..

Those abandoned malls..
Date of Scene:	03 January 2024
Location:	Warehouses: Salem Center
Synopsis:	Russians cooking Meth?! In an abandoned mall?!?
Cast of Characters:	Nikolas Kamarov, Kitkat

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Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
Once upon a time, back in the 90s, malls ruled the land. They seemingly popped up over night. Large grand behemouth of things with flag ship stores at the ends anchoring the mall proper. It was a hustle and bustle. Commerce at it's finest. Kids packed malls in droves, and ate at the food courts and shopped the interior sections much to the delight of retailers everywhere.

Then the internet came along and ruined it all. The large malls in the the major cities still stayed open, but those in less populated areas shut down by the dozens.

One such mall on the outskirts of some random city has laid abandoned for over a decade. A large legal battle over the land rights preventing it's demolition.

Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was fate. Whatever the reason, Kitkat has decided to explore the mall in the middle of the night. It wasn't hard to enter, one of the back doors had its door knob knocked off allowing ANY one to enter the large multifloor building.

Kitkat has posed:
What does a cat do? Roam, explore, and find fun things. While New York itself was fun, the state was... strange. Like this town. Why do they have a building the size of a grand temple cordoned off and deserted? What secrets lie in the halls of this strange place? Exploring, the feline woman wsn't deterred by locks or lacking doors, her feet mocing nigh silently in the darkness.

The high halls were no dark for her, but quite well eniugh lit to navigate, even see things quite well. The signs though were cryptic to her. "What... is this place?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
The mall is abandoned. Lights are busted. Walls are full of graffiti from various times. But even so, rounding the corner things start to change. There are lights after the bend and the floors are free from debris. The hallway though twists and turns with several paths heading towards the back entrances of the mall shops. The lighted path however leads to a large set of double doors. Entering them the assault on the senses is great. Urine. But not quite. Ammonia.

Meth lab.

The sounds of people off to the right can be heard talking in what sounds like Russian. The same direction where the pungent order is coming from. The sounds of machinery doing its job can be heard. And as good as a persons senses are, not everything is picked up.

Namely a worker in full hazmat suit walking out of one of the abandoned stores from the opposite direction of the sights and sounds. When you notice him, he too notices you. And in that moment all things stops. He's stunned.

For now.

Kitkat has posed:
As the lights appear, Kitkat stops a moment, the nose twitching at the smells. The acidic smell of ammonia, the smells of ther chemicals. A smell that clung to some of the worst looking humans like puke to their chins. People that had teeth falling from their gums.

Chuffing a moment, the calico presses into the shadows as she ever so slowly follows the smell. Russian wasn't a language she understood, but the worker in hazmat? She misses him just too long. The yellow suit though? THAT screams alarm bells. Those had been on TV. Beehive or something. Evildoers. And in contrast to the russian in Hazmat, Kitkat was a figher.

Her feet catapuilted her forward, almost silently sailing through the hall, a fist crashing down towards the belly, the power behind the strike enough to shatter bones, but aimed into the soft parts to knock the wind from him.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
Quick action yields the result the Calico was looking for. Silence of the man. However, the punch was a little too strong it sent him sailing backwards. Arms outstretched feet off the floor his rump landing on the ground and sliding him into a left over mall sign.

it teeters. It toters. Unlike a weeble, however, it does fall down causing a loud clanging sound to ring through the spacious mall. There is an eerie silencefor a half moment before the shouting begins. It's Russian. But the sound of it is not friendly. The echos in the mall doesn't give the number, but at least a dozen and judging by the clicking of magazines into gunstock, armed.

It's a few heartbeats later that the first armed assailaint rounds the corner and the shoot first type unloads his magazine. Cat like reflexes or not, the suddenness of things would make it difficult to dodge.

The cat is going to be mowed down there in the mall. But it doesn't happen. Instead the bullets clang off of something. Keen eyes see the shimmer of a form. Keen smell can tell it's a man. Keen sound can tell that every round is taken to the chest.

The first guard is stunned. Even more so when the new arrival flickers off the stealth of the suit and looks over his shoulder his light blue eyes looking at the cat. "Curiousity killed the cat. Or nearly so." He says in a Russian accent. He flashes a wink and a grin before shimmering out of sight and suddenly the first guard is launched back. More stream around the corner firing wildly trying to hit something.

Kitkat has posed:
If there is one thing you never can be in cimbat it is let yourself be stunned. Even with the bullets ending in the chest of whatever flickering hunk of man, who seems bulletproof, Kitkat doesn't stop or stay motionless. Darting forward and sliding over the old toled floor, the cat closes in on the guard. Physics seems to be defied as she catapults off the ground, legs to the top. But still, physics is obeyed, the tail leashing out to control the movement. Feet find the shoulders of the guard, slamming down and catapulting Kitkat upwards. As if to rub it in, the moment she starts to lift off, a second kick down to the front of the guard's head follows, sending the head painfully to the back.

"I don't think he's called Curiosity. More like Prey." she qips back, turning a salto backwards into an upside down spin around her longitudinal axis as she passes over his head only to land back behind the materializing bulletbnroof Russian like a ballerina... of claws.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
The guards are over matched. There is no way they could stand the onslaught of just either of them but both assaulting the guards, it's not even sporting.

Bodies fly this way and that, his suit being turned off after the first flurry so that they can see him coming as much as letting Kitkat see him as well. The way he moves is very cat like at times, fluid and graceful like a world class gymnast. With bodies of two guards on the ground writhing in pain or knocked cold, Kitkat lands behind the Russian. He slowly turns, turning the stealth off his mask.

And once he fully makes his turn it's easy to see that Winter is NOT bullet proof. The armor proected him for sure, but several bullet holes riddle his chest blood streaming from it. "You aren't going to eat the Prey are you?" Winter says those bullet holes looking nasty. Slowly though, the holes starts to mend and close the bullet in the holes are pushed out and drop to the floor and in a few blinks of an eye the wounds are gone. Nothing. Only the holes in the armor to show he had been hit.

"Winter." The Russian man with silver hair tied into a tight pony tail says. "What are you doing in an abandoned mall?"

Kitkat has posed:
Kitkat laughtes a moment as he calls her out on the prey quip. "What do cats do with prey?" she counters, kicking up a piece of rile that is loose and then giving it a thrust over Winter's shoulder. Tumbling through the air, the piece of rock makes contact with a last guy passing the corner. "We play with it."

"Kitkat. And I was looking what god might be held in this temple. Seems to be one of pesilence and poison, because they cook death here."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
"I was always taught to never play with my food." Winter replies not even looking over his shoulder as the rock hits the man behind them. "But momma was always strict."

"No good." Winter seems ammused by this. "It is capitalist creed at its finest. A mall. A place to buy clothes and other things Americans do not need." He shakes his head. "A group of Russians decided it was a good place to cook Meth. It's taken me weeks to find this place and you stumble upon it on a whim." He shakes his head. "if you will excuse me, Kitkat. I need to tie these guys up and try to find a clue as to who there boss is."

Kitkat has posed:
Not play with the food? The Calico grins shrugging. "Those are at best sport. Plus, I bet they taste after whatever they're cooking."

"Wait, they build something that big not to worship a god? That's waste! At least they could hold feasts in here or whatever... use it!" the cat person complains, brushing her hair a moment. "Oh, you want to question them? I can be *very* convincing... want to make them sing?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
"Nyet, no one here knows anything other then to make drugs. It's like there minds are wiped." Winter says with a shake of his head as he goes about gathering the various bodies and pulling a rope from his utility belt and wrapping the snuggly together. Those awake for it curse at him in Russian and Winter just rolls his eyes. Crouching down to one particular man and gripping his chin to make him look at him. He speaks in Russian to the man and there is a widening of the eyes of the other. Genuine fear reaches the others eyes and the others all stop and stare. Winter rises, turns to look at Kitkat. "Sometimes it's good to remind them who they are facing."

He turns on his heals and head deeper into the mall. "Food court! They had a place that had dozens of food choices!" He grins looking over his shoulders. "It was gluttony at its finest. Damn Capitalists." Rounding the corner the cook shop is seen. The cooks have long high tailed it out of there, grabbing the good product and whatever paperwork leaving nothing. "Damn it. Cleaned out again."

Kitkat has posed:
Kitkat leans against the wall while Winter works on getting the information he wants, stretching fingers a moment or two before following him to the food court. "And who are they facing? Bad weather, cold days and someone healing himself when shot?" she asks, her feet going rather easy and silent on the floor. "What's that about capitalists? I don't get it. But then again, many things don't make sense. Where's the statues to the wizards for example? And why do people take that strange brewed stuff that makes them stink?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
"Winter." The man who calls himself Winter says. He leaves it at that, as the story behind Winter is much more lengthy and complex then can be told in one sitting. "This Country is a capitalist country. Money runs everything. When money rules, so does greed." He looks over his shoulder and shakes his head. "Not that socialism is any better.."

"Well, Kitkat. Stay if you want. The cops will be here in a few. To deal with this. Stick around if you want. But I have seen what I needed and there is no Inew information." His mask shimmers over his face distorting his image and in a blink hhe is shutting upswards to the skylight above. Crashing through it he is gone.

Apparently flying is also a thing Winter can do.