Owner Pose
Jaina Hudson The Gotham Museum of Gems.

The twilight sky is dim enough that, with all the blinds lowered and reinforced windows shut tight, not a speck of light filters into the main exhibit room.

You know the room: immense, lavish, with marble floors and a giant necklace whose pendant is a colorful faceted masterpiece the size of a balled fist inside a glass bell.

The clacking footsteps of a guard echo through the corridor as his flashlight briefly casts a fleeting disc of clarity into the hall. Tlack, tlack, tlack reverberates the sound, and just as it had come, it goes.

When darkness returns, almost inaudible, a panel slides off the ceiling.

A tall, curvaceous woman with white hair, bunny ears, a white corset with pink trimmings, gloves and boots that cover almost the whole hand and legs lowers herself with a rope. She dons a pair of technological goggles, which show a monochrome red image revealing a tangle of red laser light invisible to the naked eye.

"As suspected," She smiles. And downright grins when she adds, "Time to implement the plan!"

She whips out a switchblade knife, cuts the rope, and rushes STRAIGHT for the glass bell, without giving the lasers a single care. Laughing like she's having the time of her life

Glass shatters, red and blue lights rotate, sirens blare.

Cut to a few minutes later, where the door to the roof slams open, and White Rabbit is running across it, necklace grasped tight in one fist, with what looks like all the guards in the museum chasing after her.
Eugene Thompson     It was always the waiting that did Flash Thompson, now going by the Nom de Guerre of Agent Venom, in. How many times had hee seen Spidey web-sling across the city back in the day? Had he been this bored too?

He wondered why he even bothered coming to Gotham if it was just going to be as quiet as back home.

He felt a sense of... empathy that wasn't his own... Was the suit bored too? Siting on a roof ledge and watching the street below (because all of the good gargoyles were taken.), Flash worried. How long since his last does, should he-

A sense of relief that wasn't his own rose up inside of him when the alarm screamed. The bepouched web-slinger leapt up on borrowed legs and already had a line zipping off towards a taller building

A few thwips and one almost embarassing thwap later, a tall, dark, black suited figure drops from the sky right into the Rabbit's path. He had a gun! Since when do Spiders carry guns?!

"Alright Flopsy, reign it in or I'm going to have to send you back to the mansion with a few bruises!" the black-masked figure commanded as he drew up hs sidearm.
Illyana Rasputina Close to the unlucky museum stands one of those obnoxious, upscale hotels that practically delights in its anonymity. You know the kind. Tall and closeted in black-tinted glass to keep anyone from looking in, mixing up the dubious stylings of corporate America with the Gilded Age. Gotham calls for concrete pillars, grim lines, and opulence inside the grand ballroom, mezzanine, and probably five bars.

All currently host the attendees of an evening's event. Friday spent wastefully among the greatest medical minds on the Eastern Seaboard, their patrons, and probably far too many hospital CEOs pleased by the glut of misbegotten wealth in their bank accounts. Ostensibly it's a night to celebrate breakthroughs in remote surgical procedures that allow surgeons in London or Gotham to operate on patients at a free hospital in Malawi, another in rural Brazil. Really, it's all about the canapés, being seen, and wearing flashy clothes instead of scrubs.

The keynote speech is over. Everything becomes a matter of schmoozing on a terrace, where a Russian blonde steadfastly stares out over the city and resists being pulled into a conversation that would probably end up with the offending fat cat from Jersey City or Houston impaled on roughly five feet of flaming, ephemeral blade. No one wants that. Maybe they do. Illyana strongly considers starting a scene, anyway, just to escape the next person asking a very bad question. Like "Russian bride."

That guy is currently running for the bathroom, talking about centipedes inside his skull, trying to crawl out through his eye sockets. She is much more engrossed by the occasional siren. Nothing new, it's Gotham. Or waiting for the invitee from New York forced to suffer this ignominy, one Doctor Stephen Strange, to return. He might realize the cursed state of a fellow surgeon. He might be interested, as she is, in a slip of shadow pursued by an awful lot of fit guards. She's practically leaning forward over the rail to look, a sudden grin lighting her lips. "That's our ride!" she announces.

From a balcony, who has a ride? Is it a helicopter? People might not notice, but they probably /do/ notice someone in a glittery black dress, like some torch singer, climbing up to said railing as if she intends to jump. Bit too far to reach any rooftop adjacent and suiciding among doctors, not very smart. "Don't stop all the fun so soon! Dead all night waiting for something to happen, you know?"
Cheyenne Brawley      Also clad in all black, in the form of a snazzy three-piece suit, is Cheyenne Brawley, strolling his way along the sidewalk with the steady clop of cowboy bootheels. He has a crispy half of Turkish lahmacun folded into a burrito, replete with parsley, sliced onions spiced with sumac and lemon juice, which he is in the midst of devouring with a delighted, Cheshire cat smile. He abruptly stops, pausing mid-chew as the alarm sounds off.
     "Hot damn," he mutters to himself, watching Agent Venom sling his way overhead like Tarzan. He wraps the remnants of his snack in the wax paper it came in and, wiping his lips on the back of his hand, sets it on the level opening of a gutter downspout. A moment is spent examing the exterior wall of the museum before he starts to climb, grin growing ever wider with each handhold upwards - at last, his years on the monkey board of an oil refinery are paying off.
Stephen Strange The greatest medical minds...and Doctor Stephen Strange. Not that he will deny he doesn't belong among the elite...but even he knows he isn't there because of his medicinal knowledge. He is there because it draws more attention to yet another symposium. He hasn't practiced medicine for at least some time, at least not the sort of medicine that these others would be practicing. Still...Stephen came. And, he was, as a certain Russian noted, schmoozing. Out of necessity, of course.

Yet, that schmoozing took him away from his date. And, Stephen is actively looking for a way out. While he doesn't see a black speck running along the street...he does see a black-dressed blonde perching upon the railing. There is a turn towards some stuffy bigwig, a finger held up. "If you would excuse me, there is a matter that has come to my attention." Then, with a turn, he steps away and heads to said railing. "Well...where to this time, my dear?"

Are they about to jump off of a building? Possibly. But it will be fun.
Jaina Hudson The White Rabbit raises her hands in shock. She glances off to her side. A step sideways would be a massive plunge. She looks up again. "Please don't shoot me Mr.Webslinger!" The terror on her face loooks genuine. Trembling, she begins to kneel, holding both hands well in sight, one raised, while the other draws a long, slow arc to place the necklace on the ground. "Here, I will give you the necklace. No tricks"

As the pendant touches the ground, she pushes it abruptly towards Flash Thompson. Not at -top- speed... but fast enough. Slightly slower than a running person. Delivery by Hockey.

Now, her hope is that the sudden movement will subconsciously attract the attention of the web-slinger. It's a normal human reaction to focus on moving objects, especially if flying your way. Regardless, she'll dart onwards but slightly sideways immediately later, with an acrobatic jump (to hopefully confuse matters even further), and grab the necklace might-slide, and lunge -right off the building-, doing multiple flips in the air, heading straight for the roof of a bus that is passing by in the street below.

Seems like the 'scaredy bunny' facade was all an act.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the Simposium, Jaina Hudson, as elegantly dressed as everyone else there, is also schmoozing like there is no tomorrow, catches a glimpse of something odd going on with people close to the railings. "Hello? Hello?", she asks, approaching the area. "What is going on there?"
Eugene Thompson     Agent Venom, looking like a cross between a riot cop your average, body-stocking clad wall-crawler, kept the pistol trained on her, both hands bracing the weapon. "There you go, nice and slow." he coaxed. What was meant to be a calm, coaching voice came out... A little wrong. It was much more than just the usual muffle of a full-faced hood. The symbiote did something to it...

But that's here nor there, she was pulling a fast one!

While the guards all, no doubt froze in terror as a very expensive scraped across the roof, the masked figure's gaze shifted just ever so slightly. His weight shiftyed from one foot to the other as he extended his booted foot to halt it like a soccer ball.

She moved, the Other hadn't taken it's focus off of her. He felt it tighten against his trigger finger. "Wait, Stop!"

Pop, Pop, Pop!

Rubber bullets ricocheted away, having streaked through the air she once occupied.

Flash cursed and holstered his weapon. By the time he could try and lunge after her, she was over the edge and he felt a mixture of aggitation and... was tht hunger?

Vaulting off of the roof and into open air, Agent Venom launched into his hot pursuit. If she hit the bus, well.. she'd be moving at the speed of mass transit in a metropolitan area but he still just couldn't let her get away! Stretching both arms forward, he tried to cut her off, stretching a wide, thin web like a volleyball net between her and her would be getaway bus!
Illyana Rasputina The scared rabbit act is but an act, albeit an impressive show of manoeuvres and speed. Stephen is going to miss all the fun, being drawn aside by /someone/ foolish enough to get between him and a good time. It ought to be important, and if that person ends up with a scathing quip their way, all the better.

The blonde's eyebrows lift slightly when catching how fast the cat burglar moves. "Catwoman has a copy." A comment for herself. Still, she swivels when the tumbling figure descends towards the ritzy named hotel, or at least into the gloom where the bus was.

By that point of collision, her lidded gaze might be a touch paler than the fair Arctic blue of her irises, and the channelled interest of the Hell-Lord looks into spectra most don't even think exists. She most certainly has zero issue with drawing out a wicked smirk or lolling there on the terrace, imperious in curling a finger to be delivered a flute of something overpriced and under flavoured. A server obliges. White wine will do, and so she has it. The little audience attracted by the fanfare? "Watching a performance of a acrobatics. This entertainment, much better than that," she says to Jaina, pointing the flute's base inside. "So stuffy. Here, we see people. Could be auditioning for Bat Family?"
Cheyenne Brawley      Looking up, struggling in the dim light to find any decent handholds on the museum wall, Buster's jaw drops to his collarbone as he beholds the shadowy form of a rabbit-like woman careen over the side of the building, soon followed by Agent Venom and his elaborate snare. A flash of jewelry, glittering in the wan, multi-colored glow of streetlights and neon signs, inexorably draws his eye. The man's smile grows wider still. "No you don't sug," as in sugar, he says.
     The diamond in White Rabbit's grasp takes on a life of its own, suddently animated as if it were made of shaken jello, but with a sound like a wad of aluminum foil being crunched against itself, and slides loose from the bezels of its settings. It reforms into its original shape, levitating by some unseen artifice just a few inches away from the escaping thief, but only for a moment, as it begins to streak away like a fastball thrown by a major league pitcher. Can she catch it AND elude the symbiote?
Jaina Hudson A glint of something precious in her peripheral vision catches the White Rabbit's attention. A frown. "Oh, great, it broke. Now I'll have to sell it just to be able to afford having it fixed. And I'll have to steal it again once it's repaired."

With reflexes compatible with what one'd expect from a peak human athlete, she grabs for the runaway diamond. The weight is too much for the stone, which falls, but at the same time, its momentum deflects the Bun Burglar's trajectory, just enough to avoid falling smack in the middle of the volleyball net web.

Granted, she spin-plummets across the -side- of the volleyball net web, which means that she shrieks, rips either all or a sizable part of the web off, and *THUDS* on the roof of the bus, instead of scoring a spotless three point landing.

In the impact, the diamond flies off from her grasp; an opera-gloved arm stretches out to grab it again with a yowl of pain. It won't be easy to catch it while she's tangled and stuck to the buss through some web-like substance, but she's making a solid attempt there.

Jaina looks down in shock and horror. "Oh my. That poor woman...", she exclaims, observing the scene through opera binoculars . Now, that's class. Keeping opera binoculars in your purse. Just in case of surprise operas. Or superpowered chases. "Do you think we should do something about it?" She says, forehead frowning in concern. Binoculars shift to the ceiling. "Plenty of security there. They seem to be after someone? Or something? No need to alert the police then, I guess. They'll have done it already, if necessary.", she says, and then, she continues. "...I hope the situation doesn't get too dangerous," while rubbing one arm with the other. "I'm sorry, it's just that... crime makes me so nervous." One hand reaches for her forehead and touches it with just the tips of her hands, as her face is tilted down. "I cannot comprehend how someone would commit an act so hideous. Why can't everyone just be an upstanding citizen like us?"
Illyana Rasputina From the terrace on the hotel, all unfolds with a kind of theatrical majesty. Illyana gives Jaina a sideways look, sharpened in suspicion. She is Russian. Everyone not Russian is suspicious. Opera glasses are the least of it, though they are quite elegant. Brass, silver?

"This city," she says, as though it explains everything. A shrug answers doing anything about the rabbit and the impressive display of finesse to rob someone. Her flute of wine comes to her lips. A refreshing drink goes so far, but she smirks behind it. "Bludhaven has worse reputation. Here, they have Bats and Cat to teach manners." The Hell-Lord's command of English is lilted by her Slavic accent, an affectation rather than an actual reality. Charles Xavier's command of English is locked in that skull of hers, after all. "You should try wine. It makes the nerves be quiet. This, I hope, no blood. No broken bones. They do very well."
Eugene Thompson     It wasn't the elegant, flys in a web solution that Spidey typically manages but for Flash, a touchdown was a touchdown.

With the web in shambles, there was no safety net for Thompson either. Rotating his hips and giving a good, hard twist, Flash managed to pull out of his dive and send a webline up to the roofline. Tugging hard on the line, he just managed to avoid smacking into the pavement. He was lucky, threading the needle between a pair of parked cars and into a narrow alley, he found a soft crash site in the form of a garbage heap. Bags and boxes absorbing the momentum of the break-neck swing with a riotous clamour.

It took him a moment to disentangle from the heap, The other lending a helping tendril, writhing tendrils tossing trash aside. as Agent Venom came to his feet, watching the bus' break lights meander down the road.

Anger swelled in his belly. He clenched his jaw against the thought of teeth, fangs. Keep it together.

He took off in a run before he threw a line out, hoping to catch up before her luck caught up with her.
Cheyenne Brawley      Cheyenne Brawley drops down from his vantage point on the wall - he wasn't so high up to begin with, anyway - and lands in a wide stance, hands poised loosely before him. From a distance, it might seem that he's taken a notion of doing some spontaneous tai chi.
     Meanwhile, the flying diamond seizes in midair, just out of White Rabbit's reach, as if it were caught by a poltergeist. The gem squeaks with a barritone voice, like the sound of someone tying a rubber balloon, as it stretches into a thin rope of living, floating, bling. One end of the rope ties itself into a neat little lasso and springs into action, trying to catch the thief's outstretched arm around the wrist, while the loose end ventures to coil around the upright structure between two broken windows of the hapless bus.
Jaina Hudson White Rabbit's hand grasps at thin air, each grab -almost- catching the precious stone, which is yanked out of reach in the nick of time. One, two, three times, and more, and more.

By the time she manages to free herself enough from the web to stand on the bus (which, despite having been broken, doesn't stop -yet-. Absolute commitment to timetables?), the lasso wraps around her wrist. "Hey!", she exclaims, displeased. She attempts to swat the diamond-lasso away. "No, no, you're the -gem-, you aren't supposed to be the strand." She lifts the gemless necklace the diamond wiggled its way out of. "See? This one."

The bus finally -does- halt, shortly after. And at a short distance from where Agent Venom landed. There is a hiss, and doors open. "Oh, wait, this is my stop," White Rabbit says, and just- *slips* out of her gloves, and as jumps down from the roof, to mingle with the evening commuters, she throws the diamondless necklace mount into the opposite direction. You can catch only one of the two, mysterious floating diamond lasso thing!

Ok, when we say 'mingle' with the commuters... she is not that hard to -identify-, given her unique appearance (and the rabbit ears sticking up from the crowd), but unless someone is flying or jumping up from above, she's harder to get -at-.
Eugene Thompson     God bless mass transit.

Slowing to a jog, Flash just manages to see the rabbit slip into the throng of people. For a moment, just a moment, he considers trying touse his gun to clear the area... but in the best situation that would lead to a minor panic. At worst, it would draw a Bat... and nobody needed that kind of hassle. He tried to shoulder his way but... Hothamites were just that much more jaded than New Yorkers. He'd have to gain a vantage point, do something to clear them off so that she couldn't use them as obstructions...

Flash Thompson relaxed his jaw.

The suit swelled around him, the featureless mask gaining a mouth filled with sharp, long fangs. A terrible tongue extended past the monsterous teeth as the symbiote bloomed into a more monsterous shape. Claws, muscles... spikey shoudler pads. With the added foot or so of height, they were able to catch sight of a pair of ears bobbing along the heads. A sea of delicious, crunchy heads, warm soup, like dilly-

No, Focus-

"Bunny-!" they snarled, wading bodily through the masses.

"HEEEERE BUNNY, BUNNY."
Cheyenne Brawley      Buster's jaw has landed on his collarbone once again, following Agent Venom's transformation. "I don't put anything past this city," he mutters to himself, "I tell you what." But it doesn't stop him aiding the effort to stop the jewel thief in her tracks. He snaps his fingers, once, clear as a cracking bone.
     The diamond lasso scatters into a misty grey cloud of graphite, as fine as talcum powder. The precipitate miasma wisps about like smoke from a genie's bottle, trying to work its way into White Rabbit's lungs.
Jaina Hudson If the bunny is scared by the transformation and the ominous voice, it does not show. Not one bit. The crowd does cast some curious glances; brief, cursory, though. These people have places to be, or are too tired for such nonsense. They just want home, or at some bar.

The head disappears downwards into the crowd; the sound of something metallic, heavy, being slid off the concrete. The landing of heels on stone slabs. It seems like that our bunny went down the rabbit manhole; she, once again, found a way out where one would not expect one to be.

Yet, she was probably not expecting diamond dust to chase after her: it is no effort for the dust to follow her down a manhole, and soon, the muffled, echoing, reverberating sound of coughing can be heard coming from the ground in the middle of the crowd.

The rabbit is alone, double over, down in the sewers, paralyzed by the coughing fit. Out of sight, since in this big, bustling city, nobody in the crowd stops to check or care.

An easy prey for a Symbiote who decides to have rabbit soup for dinner... and there'd be no witnesses.
Eugene Thompson     How long has it been, a good, warm meal. Alive and wriggling, it makes their mouths water. The smell of ofal hits his senses among the smell of the cities. They know where she went and they pursue. Like a fluffy cat passing through a small gap. Biomass compressing and sloughing through with a wet, slick sound. Crawling along the slick walls of the sewer. Coughing, sick, weak, vulnerable.

agent Venom salivates, their tongue dripping with their hunger, glides around their lipless mouth.

"Bad time for an asthma attack, Bunny. Did you think you could get away from us?" they wondered with ravenous glee as they stalked her. When was the last time, how long? They wanted it steeped in terror, fear. Hunger Who will miss a jewel theif, just one, what could it hurt?

A arm stretched towards her, taloned fingers spreading wide and then wider, an arm with a reach that exceeded what should have been their grasp sought to tangle her up in the black ichor of their body and draw the little rabbit ever closer to slavering jaws.
Cheyenne Brawley      The manhole cover slides aside a second time, and Buster's face appears silhouetted against the, comparitively, light atmosphere of a starless night sky polluted by city light. Breathing hard from exhertion, he beams down at the hungry 'them'.
     "Hey, you got her, bud. Good job!"
     He offers a thumbs up and, with a wax-on motion of the other hand, draws the graphite miasma seamlessly from White Rabbit's lungs and coalesces it once more into a diamond, indistinguishable from the original stolen gem, and drops it into his waiting palm.
     "Hmm," he continues, examining the piece for the Four Cs, "not a bad one, but I can do better." He nods smugly and calls down into the hole again, "You got her under control, right pard? I'll just rustle up the findings and return everthang to the museum staff, okidoke?" Just like that, he rushes off.
Jaina Hudson Up at the Symposium, opera binoculars are -yanked- down from Jaina's eyes. "Excuse me," she says to the nearby people, "I need to make an urgent phone call about this," she says, and rushes off with haste.

Off in a side room, where she is sure she will not be disturbed, she reaches into her purse and pulls a cheap, disposable phone that clashes with her otherwise lavish outfit and accessories. Her fingers zip through the numeric keyboard, and soon she is connected. "Emergency. Code two five seven. Step alpha," she says, altering her voice as she speaks into the microphone.

* * *

The taloned fingers are about to sink into her flesh when the dust is miraculously lifted from her lungs. A long wheeze, and a shriek as she realizes what's happening. she scoots backwards as the dark biomass elongates towards her, "Whoa whoa whoa, just -WHAT- are you?!", she blurts out, as she finally manages to roll to stand.

All this rush led her to finally stand up, yes, but in a corner. There would be no escape, were it not that-

The rushed clacking of multiple shoes on stone echoes in from round the corner, quiet at first, but then louder and louder. "Whoever you are!", exclaims a loud, male voice, "Get away from the White Rabbit!"

The group pops into view soon enough: a group of five gangsters in rabbit masks, submacine guns wielded and ready to be discharged.
Eugene Thompson     "We-" the voice was deep, wet. Terrible and hungry. There were no eyes but they too were hungry. Everything could pretty much use a snack and she was looking ffffucking SCRUMPTIOUS

"are Agent Venom." because the Agent part was important.

Someone called from above and they lied, "A-Okay Okie Dokey, Citizen!" came a voice that sounded like a garbage disposal.

Then there were men, men with guns. Meat with guns.

The head twisted around, the tongue somehow not pierced by the closing mouth as they peered back at her rescuers curiously.

They smiled... far too wide.

With a snarl and a mad cackle, they flung themselves at the armed intruders. Automatic weaponfire rattled through the sewers... and then the screams followed.

Suddenly, the bunny wasn't quite so important.