Owner	Pose
River Banks	Its a bar. It's a dive bar with people who don't want to be found, hiding out among some people doing a little bit of finding. Tonight the jukebox is playing old Johnny Cash, and the Man in Black himself seems to recoil a bit even with his ghost playing on the lonely jokebox tucked into a corner, one side flickering.     Among the stink of sweat and cheap weed and worse tobacco and chew, River's scent flits through accented by something spicy. She's on the hunt herself tonight, wearing a flannel shirt over a black tank top and jeans that hug her ass, blonde hair braided and pinned up under a worn tan cowboy hat.
Victor Creed	That scent is one that has been on Victor's mind for quite some time. Catching wind of it as he strolls past the bar, he cannot help but satisfy his curiosity. Turning up the collars of his trenchcoat, which really does very little to /actually/ tune out who he is to those that now, he turns and pulls open the door to the bar, bracing himself for the onslaught of aromas that are bound to assault his nose.     Once he has resisted the urge to vomit up his lunch, he makes his way inside, his eyes scanning to identify the source of that most delectable aroma.
River Banks	Stale peanuts and cheap beer and Bartender's Friend and a whiff of white musk and pine and something spicy that stays on the tongue.     River's acquired her target. Her dark eyes narrow, her lips purse as she hops up onto one of the remaining stools at the bar, and giving a smile and sliding some cash on the bar she speaks up with a 'Whiskey, straight. House is fine, Ah ain' picky." and she settles into place. She could nurse her glass for a while, watching the towhaired guy with the pink ears at the end of the bar start hitting on the waitresses.     She was going to be too happy to mess up his night. She doesn't register the bigger predator on his way in.
Victor Creed	Not spotted yet. That tells Victor that she is clearly on a case of some kind. Idly curious how effective she is without a wild predatory mutant messing up her game, he drifts as well as he can into the corner, finding a seat which helps reduce his towering height.     And settles in to watch what he hopes is an interesting show.
River Banks	It takes a bit. The guy has Gotham Stink on him, but River's patient.     And he lifts his glass -- he's been downing Long Island Iced Teas -- and half way through his drink he sees her through the glass.     He almost spits his drink. and he coughs hard as River raises her glass to him, and simply downs the whiskey like she was born to do it.     The glass is set down. She gives a nod to the bartender.     And she makes her way towards him, she pauses.     That guy tucked up against the wall looks... awfully... big....     She lets a breath out. Her heart rate picks up, but she pushes it down. She keeps her cool, and she begins to give Victor a show, grabbing the guy who was trying to flag down the bartender by the back of his shirt, and she violently pulls him backwards off the stool and slams him down to the ground.     "Hiya, chuckles. Ah heard jus' 'bout the /oddest/ story. I heard you laid hands on Katie and set her in the bathtub to bleed out. Now, that ain't gentlemanly." she states.
Victor Creed	A bit of a grin slips out on Victor's face as he detects the reactionin River. So he has been seen. Not the worst thing in the world. And he was hardly trying to be subtle. Or stealthy.     He remains in his seat for the 'show', not wanting to disrupt her work.     Plenty of time for that later.
River Banks	THe guy slams down to the floor. THe breath is knocked out of him, and he's probably too drunk to make particularly good choices. He attempts a swing, that River just leans back from.     "That's your *one*." she warns, still deadly calm.     "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna sober up. You're gonna go back to that apartment, an' you're gonna take your shit and get the fuck out. An' you're gonna do it nice 'cause you broke her arm. AN' if you agree to that we ain't gonna have trouble. You don't? We gonna have trouble. Have Ah Made Myself clear?" she asks, stepping back and letting him up.     Chuckles takes a deep breath, and then with a cry of fury he launches himself bodily at River!
Victor Creed	Maybe Victor doesn't care about his investment. Or maybe he has confidence in her. Either way, he sits quietly and watches the drama play out, reaching over to take a beer from the table next to him while its occupants pay attention to the fight breaking out.     Works for him.
River Banks	OR MAYBE HER PLAYER FORGOT TO HIT ENTER.     Well, she did try to take Victor on the first time they met. Second time she was a little more subdued. The fight definitely now has people's attention as CHuckles rushes River, but River sidesteps, trips, and grabs him by the back of his jacket and by his belt, shifting her weight to turn him and throw him back onto the floor.     "Aww, c'mon Chuckles. You wanna take this outside where we can settle this like men?"     And there's grumbling. He stands, he moves out of River's way, and then he heads for the door, flipping her off.     "... asshole." she mutters at his back, and she pulls her hat lower over her face a moment before she breathes out, and goes to pass by Victor's table.     "Were you lookin' for me tonight, or is this jus' 'happy accidents'." she asks him.
Victor Creed	"Happy for me," Victor says, drinking the other man's beer.     "Whether that's happy for you, well. That remains to be seen."     He sit there, watching her for a moment. His eyes scanning over her form, appraisingly. Or hungrily. With him, it is hard to tell.     "I'll give you a minute head start, if you want."
River Banks	One minute.     "AN' if I don't feel like playing your game, Sabertooth? I did just kinda drop an elbow into someone a minute ago." River states as she eyeballs the man with the cowboy hat, but she's already moving towards the door to follow Chuckles out. "Ah don't want no trouble for anyone in the bar. Just got my guy an' wanna go home. Christmas, y'know."
Victor Creed	Glancing down at his wrist, as if he were wearing a watch, Victor nods. "Ah, right, Christmas." He settles back into his seat, watching River, considerin gher statement. After a long moment, he nods. "Ok, kid. Christmas gift." His teeth bare in a grin. "I'll give ya two minutes." It is still unclear just what exactly he has in mind, but his generosity appears to be at its limit as he reaches over to take a beer from the other table again. This time, the owner is well aware of it, and briefly seems to consider objecting before thinking better of it.
River Banks	Well, I mean, this guy is clearly enough to intimidate the young woman who just dropped some asshole and threatened to kill him.     So She tilts her own hat at Victor -- and she books it out of the bar.     There's a part of her that knows that no matter what she does, it's not going to be enough to get away from Victor Creed. There's never going to be enough distance for him to not track her down.     She tries, anyway. She circles a subway station access, and then leaps over the side and down into the stairwell, dashing down to the station. She feels the rattle of the train -- she hops the turnstyle. She dashes into the station -- only to see the train pull away.     She's winded. There's a couple of puddles from people's boots, from drinks, from the air system. She *has* ammunition... but will it be enough?
Victor Creed	True to his word, Victor sits and drinks the beer, watching the time tick away. At the two minute mark, he finishes the bottle, and sets the empty on the table. As he starts to rise up, the man at the other table starts to get a little bit of confidence. Perhaps from the booze. Certainly unwise. "You're not really going after that poor girl, are ya?" he asks of the man. Victor looks back at him. Then to the woman next to him. Then back to the man. "You offering up your date instead?" The man pales and shifts a bit. Away from his date, much to her consternation, as Victor snickers. "Didn't think so." He reaches out and retrieves a cowboy hat from one of the other barflies as he slowly ambles towards the door. "Yee haw," he says, as he steps out into the night. Sniffing into the air. River gained another two minutes or so while he stopped for the hat. But that doesn't matter. Not really. Victor licks his lips, running his long tongue over his fangs. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."
River Banks	Everywhere you go...     No cell signal. No real good place to hide. River's got four minutes ahead of Victor and she needs to make every minute count.     So she hops into the tracks, down below that pesky yellow line for safety, and she bolts into the dark. Her breath rings in her ears as she slides along the track and attempts twice to kick an access door open. It's chained shut, but everything's gone pretty rusty.     "Please please *please*..." she mumbles quietly before the handle on the door gives out, and she ducks into an access tube.     "C'mon, c'mon, jus' need enough water ta make a wall..."
Victor Creed	Victor said that he would give her a two minute head start. And it stretched to four. But he did not say that he would take a leisurely pace to catch up. With her scent fresh on the air, Victor moves rapidly once he departs the bar. Not rapidly enough to dislodge the cowboy hat that he appropriated, but mostly because he puts a hand atop it to keep it in place, moving instead with two legs and a hand to propel him forward. And so, within about a minute of having departed the bar, River would hear the sound of talons from the darkness, scraping along the side of the access tunnel. "I thought you would go somewhere polite. Where we could have /polite/ conversation..."
River Banks	Two minutes into four minutes into five minutes into --     Talons scratch in the darkness. They echo in the dark tunnel. River holds her breath, but she knows she can't erase her scent.     "Didn't think you were in a mood for polite. Even though you was nice 'nough to gimmie a head-start. DOn't suppose I could convince you ta go back for a couple rounds of whiskey?" she calls out, her voice echoing.     She grasps metal. It grinds against the concrete below her, and she feels it, heavy in her hand.     "My treat. Don't even hafta thank me none."