Heart of a lion, and the wings of a bat, BECAUSE ITS MIDNITE! (Chelle)

The blueblooded gentleman thief was standing on a rooftop, staring out at a city at large. There was simply no way the hot, dusty skies of Los Angeles could measure up to the neaon nights in the big apple, but since the big apple had metaphorically dropped from its branched, he had to make due. Besides, it was not as if he was going to switch cities for long, was it? He carefully raised a gloved hand to pull his hat down slightly. He could not see himself, but he was mighty sure he made a rather striking sillhuette against the sky. he probably looked the part of a mysterious loner, his cape fluttering about him very dramatically. However, no matter how much he posed, pranced and preened, this city did simply not feel like home. It was a non-entity. It just wasn't right.

He sighed theatrically as he solemnly hovered over to a rooftop closer to the ground, taking great care to avoid notice from the filthy, downtrodden commoners below. They would no doubt raise the alarm or something equally blebeian. He could not help but to snort in contempt as his feet touched the roo of the building across the jewelers he was hitting tonight. He looked at the gold Rolex on his wrist. A minute untill go-time, although, to be honest, he didn't feel like it. He wanted adventure, excitement, not just htting the same old jewlry-stores, nabbing the same old jewel-encrusted watchammacallits time and time and time again. Of course, he had never attempted to burglarize this particular jewelery-store, but if you had seen ome of these bloody shops you had pretty much been into all of them. Back home people occasionally pointed up at him in reverence as he flew by, and (presumably) whispered his name in awed, hushed voices. The best he had gotten in L..A was "Look at that flying guy."

Nevertheless, his presence in this city had not been his choice. It had been made by one Manfred Gentle's clients, and being a (supposedly) mild-mannered stock-broker, his alter ego had dutifully traveled into the city at the behest of his client. Even though the buisness-part of his journey had gone as planned, Manfred could not really spend a week without being The Gentleman Thief. The boredom would simply gnaw at his black little soul untill he climbed the walls, so The Gentleman Thief simply had to metaphorically come with him to L.A. But now, as it were, boredom had indeed put its filth-encrusted little teeth into the heart of The Gehtleman thief.

He absentmindedly lit a cigar as he leaned back on one of the huge air-condition fan-coverings that stood upon the roof, and amused himself by blowing smoke-rings in an attempt to pass the time untill midnight. To be honest, here was no particurlar reason he could not just hit the store right now. His bored soul hungered for adventure! for excitment! It was just that there was simply something very dramatic about a jewel-heist at midnight, and after all, if he was going to make a heist here, he might as well make it a good heist. A heist to remember.

Gentleman was not perceptive enough to notice the other flier as quickly as the other flier had noticed him, but to compensate, he recognized the woman almost instantly, mostly because of her great, feathered wings that grew from her back. He could not help but to crack a smile at the realization. He had almost fought her earlier together with an armoured miscreant back at new york a few months back, however, she had fled after a few swings of their swords, leaving him behind, no doubt being more focused on his armoured companion, since he had made it off with the big bag of money he had been carrying.

A crooked smile appeared on his lips as she called down to him. Apparantly she had made a greater impact on his life, than he had made on hers. Although, it seemed that fate had provided him with an oppurtunity to change this. He casually blew out a smokering before casually dropping the cigar to the ground, stepping on it with a polished shoe, causing a small tendril of smoke to rise up from beneath his sole.

"Indeed we have, my dear. I never forget a beautiful face, and the time that have passed since our last encounter have not tainted your appearance." The gentleman said, his deep, wellmodulated voice, seemingly losing none of its theatrical elegance despite him having to raise it to beaudible to her. His smile grew into a wolfish grin as he stood up straight, twirling the umbrella in his right hand, looking almost like he was going to spontaneously break out in a song-and dance routine, like one of those old movies. However, he did not sing, instead he took to the air. Unlike the winged woman, his particurlar brand of flight required no phyiscal movement, and instead he simply just rose up towards chelle, his feet positioned as if he still had ground beneath them. Of course, it was all theatrics.

Have you come all the way here from new york too see me, little bird? I'm flattered. He said in an playfully arrogant tone, his wolfish grin still present on his lips. All previous thoughts about how dull Los Angelos were forgotten by now, after all, fate had thrown another little metaphorical chewtoy his way for him to amuse himself with. He would be lying if he said he did not have certain expectations of this meeting, after all, he had greatly enjoyed the little fencing-duel the two had engaged in back in New York. However. . . He could not help but to feel as though he had seen her somewhere else, more recently.

Gentleman observed the woman, twirling his umbrella absentmindedly in a very complicated pattern with one hand, and arrogantly adjusting his tophat with the other hand, as he hovered at the spot, in front of chelle, the wolfish grin still on his lips as he watched her struggle with remembering his identity. His smile widened ever so slightly as the realization seemed to dawn on her. Apparantly he had not been as easily forgotten as he had assumed from the beginning. This thought made him rather happy, since being forgettable was his anathema. He became the gentleman to stand out of the crowd, to look down upon the people and to act like it befitted a man of his heritage.

Indeed we were. Your memory does serve you well, my dove. He said sweetly as he theatrically adjusted his monocle as he hovered on the spot, having reached her aproximate height moving to the left of chelle, circling her, as he moved closer and closer, like a predator might do its pray. He relaxed slightly and Raised the umbrella, and even though he was not yet poised to attack, there was something predatory in his hungry gaze. His wolfish grin widened slightly, turning into a far more hungry sort of smile. Despite his seemingly polite endevour it was obvious that he was itching for a fight.

"It was a rather fun little game of blades?, wouldn't you say, my nightingale? The clash of blades, The rush of adrenaline! If I were to think of it in more dramatical term I would go so far as call it a Symphony of passion." He said, a slight tremble in his theatrical, melodious voice betraying his anticipation of the duel that would inevitable follow their meeting. However, he was not one to let his excitement get the better of him. After all, the wait made the fruit all the sweeter.

"Buisness, is it? Sounds awfully dull, my beautiful nightingale. Wouldn't you much rather play with me for awhile." He continued coyly, his voice as sweet chocolate, as he closed the distance between them by barely an inch. even though he was aching for the fight that would inevitably follow, he could not deny that he found these little conversations rather enchanting. It was like the frosting on a delicious cake.

As the woman asked him if he wanted to continue where they left of, he adopted a fencers stance as quickly as a snake. Now it was his turn to lick his lips slightly as he felt the adrenaline rush into his system once again.
"I would be delighted." He answered as he stopped moving

"En garde!" he said, his voice turning from a sily smooth baritone to a sharp crack of the whip. Now the coy speeches was over, and the fencing wold begin. He quickly charged his umbrella up with energy, turning it from a rather harmless, regular object to a deadly weapon, capable of slicing through steel like butter. He quickly flew towards the woman slashing a wide arc in front of him, whilst always being ready to dodge a potential counter-attack.

Gentlean snorted concietedly as the blow came, targetting his shoulder, and even though it fell into the range of the things he would have expected of her, it was still a fairly good blow. The blueblooded gentleman quickly surmised that he was a few steps upp the ladder of skill when it came to sword-play, but he would sorely regret taking the woman lightly. Despite his superior skill and position ofleverage he was barely able to repell her strike, even though he struck from a very advantageous position! The flying woman seemed to have strength that far superseeded what should be physically possible for her. Despite his arrogance he was not known to take potential opponents lightly, but he had to admit to himself that he had far underestimated her physical strength. the slight ache in his shoulder and wrist could attest to that.

"Ah, Brawn as well as brain, eh? A most impressive display of brute strength, if I may say so myself." The flying dandy said approvingly, his deep theatrical voice as posh as ever. However, he had no intention of wasting anymore time talking, and instead he lunged at her. She may be strong, but he was quicker and more skilled than she was. He still figured he'd have quite a decent chance against her. He quickly flew in, trying to use his superior combat-reflexes and skill to simply catch her in a flurry of quick stabs that were so fast and quick in succession that she simply had no time to retaliate, whilst keeping himself in a position to enable him to dodge away from any attack she might decide to throw his way. Of course, this method of attack might not be able to deal instant death, but it was probably more than enough to draw some blood out of her.

After all, he had no real desire to kill her at all. At least not yet. He simply had far too much fun with these little games. Hopefully she would survive, and they could meet up and do it again!. . . And again and again. . . He let out a joyfull chuckle as he fought on, his teeth bared like those of a predator, as he pressed on his assault


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Hours Earlier manfred Gentle had arrived at the hotel. His clothing was quite different from the flamboyant attire of his villanous alter-ego, but it was still high class, even though some of the more wealthy of the guests to the conferance probably thought him to be nothing but a plebeian lackey. He loathed their very existance. The fact that he, a man of noble birth a distant relation to pretty much all of the royal houses in europe had to toady up to a bunch of greedy colonial commoners, who probably had nothing but pig-herers and criminals in their family trees, but nonetheless they had gotten their greedy little things into activities not befitting folks of their humble origins. However, he kept those thoughts to himself, as he always did.

He did his best to repress such thoughts as he stood in the elevator heading up. He had to give a good impression to the people that had gathered. His professional reputation depended on it. He lookedi nto his reflection on a polished brass-plate housing the buttons. A tall gentleman looked back at him. He had a noble bearing, a generally slim body but rather broad shoulders, and even though his face was rather puffy, he still looked rather decent. For a while he imagined that it was the Gentleman thief looking back to him instead of Manfred Gentle. The Gentleman Thief was flamboyant and somewhat outlandish, but he had charisma. Pizzaz. An irrepressable adventurer that did what he pleased, and what he did, he did in style. His various crimes all had an almost theatrical flow to them. But where the Gentleman Thief was irresponseble and unpredictable, Mr.Gentle was known to be reliable and dutifull. In a way they were like the opposite sides of the same coin.

The "Ding" of the elevetor awokened him from his little daydream and he quickly stepped out, moving towards the conference. He moved quickly into the hall, and barely had time to look around before he was shaking hands with someone who told had introduced himself as Morgan Andersson from Anderson and Orville holdings. He smiled, and gave his own name, and told the stranger that he represented Agda Fairbanks who could not attend due to illness.

As the man insisted on bombarding him with various form of badly-concealed bragging, Manfred decided the best attitude to take was to smile and nod at all the incredulous statements the man made. According to him, no major buisnessdeal had taken place since the 60s without him pushing it along. However, in the sea of gray suits and mute ties, he saw a sudden sparkle of colour. Like jewel lodged in a humungous gray mountain. for a second or two he thought he had seen her somewhere before, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was fairly certain he would remember meeting someone like her.

Gentlemans grin widened slightly as he saw the crimsom fluid pour from the slash he had managed to inflict. Despite the distance between them and the rather small amounts of blood, he could still smell it in the air, and he could feel yet another rush of adrenaline hit him. However, he could ill afford to get careless just because he was taking the lead. After all, with chelles strength it would only take a single slash to kill him. Normally he would go for the sword itself, trying to wrangle it out of her hands, but due to the strength of the woman that might be difficult. However, there was still another alternative, if things turned sour. Her sword was tough indeed, to stand up to his "charged" umbrella, but he had no doubt that he could break it if he really tried. He had never met anything that could stand up to his charged improvised weaponry.

No, the safest way to go was probably just to play it cool, wait for her to attack and use his speed and agility to counter-attack when her blade was too far away to block it. Most people would probably consider the Winged Warrior-Woman something of an expert when it came to swordfighting, but the difference between them was obvious to him. He could see flaws in her technique, little errors she made as she swung her blade. it was nothing majorly disturbing, but he had no doubt he would be able to exploit quite a few of them in case he felt he was at a disadvantage. Although, if he exposed those little flaws, she would probably take time to correct them if they met again, so he would much rather win without making her aware of her little mistakes.

He smiled politely as the woman asked wether she should go light on him. She probably thought she was being kind, but he felt it would be an insult to his skill if she were not to give it her all.

No, no, Sweetling. Your strength and passion invigorates me. It reminds me of the valkyries from the norse legends of old. he said, his theatrical intonation rising dramatically, as if he was making some grand proclamation. It was fairly obvious that he was very fond of their little comments and retorts. They were the spice that enhanced the flavour of the meat, to put it metaphorically.

As the woman took her chance to swipe at him, Gentleman saw his chance. This was a perfect oppurtunity to show off a little. All thoughts of caution all but forgotten he swiftly ducked under the blow, flying slightly closer to the woman, thus positioning him too close to her to be easily hit when she regained her grip on the sword. But just to be on the safe side, he grabbed ahold of his cloak by his left hand and chargedi t up, Whilst trying to put yet another slash in her dress. Across the belly this time, but if the blow connected he would take great care not to pierce the skin of the woman.

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Manfred Felt a flush of excitement as the rich, important-looking woman decided to approach him through the metaphorical sea between the pair. And even though most people probably had little idea of her name, she had a certain sense of importance about her. You could tell that she was the sort of person that would make a big impact on the world in some way some day. Neither Manfred, nor his alter ego, the Blueblooded gentleman thief were the sort that were easily flustered and rarely at a loss for words, but seeing her walk so decidedly towards him caused him a certain level of discomfort. It was quite impressive to see how the sea of people parted in front of her, bringing to mind a letter day moses who left the egyptians at home.

"Hello there" she said sweetly, her lips curling into a smile sweeter than all the honey in france. "Good evening, miss. I don't believe we have met. My name is Manfred Gentle, a pleasure." he said, extending a hand for her to shake, very formally. He could not help but to notice that they stood pretty much equally in terms of height, wich he had a little trouble adjusting to. He could simply not get over how big she were. It was not as if she was merely tall, no, she merely looked as if she had been scaled up ever so slightly.

He felt a great joy as his second attack connected, slicing up her clothing. Anyone could stab or cut someone with a blade, but to do it with such precision, such grace as he had done was the true calling-card of any true swordsman.

The gentleman smiled rather kindly as the winged woman looked upon her bloodied hand, and it was difficult judging what her reaction would be. Would she be scared, pull out of their little game, or would she be enraged, attacking him for real, or would she simply keep going as they had upon now. He decided that it was best to wait before making his judgement of how to proceed. When she licked her finger, gentleman felt relieved. The show would go on, and he would have more than enough time to squeeze some more fun out of this woman before it was time to head back to the hotel for the night.

"have no fear, my dear, for I took great care not to cut too deeply. After all, this is only a little game, yes? And slaying such a stunning individual as madame. . . Such a vile act would be a crime against Aphrodite herself." The gentleman said, his theatrical voice doing the rather hammy proclamation justice. A crooked, somewhat concieted smile appeared on his lips as he hovered in place, waiting for the woman to make the right move.

Gentleman grinned as the woman commented playfully on the masterfull slice that had just tore up her clothing. Gentlemans grin widened ever so slightly "Well, one can hardly blame me. after all, you are a rather ravishing woman, if I may say so myself." he said, playfully, as he adjusted his monocle ever-so-slightly, as if trying to get a better look on her. However, he was interrupted by an unexpected sword-strike, comming in from the left. He was caught completely unprepared. Finally his arrogance and concieted attitude had gotten the better of him. He had even dropped the cape! However, before he had time to think, his reflexes acted in his brains stead, spinning him around, causing him to block the blow just in time before flying backwards, panting. It had been qutite a fright.

Well played, my dear! Well played indeed! I would applaud the skill you put behind that strike, but then you would no doubt catch me off guard again. he said, the smile returning to his lips once more. He lifted his metaphorical "blade" into the air again, and charged in, trying to land a succession of swift strikes on her, doing his best to keep his distance this time, obviously far more carefull than he had been earlier.


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Why thank you, that would be lovely, Miss Takiero. He responded appreciatingly as she offerred him a drink. This was working out far better than he had anticipated. At first he had expected her to be the haughty sort, due to her clothing, but she seemed sociable enough, despite the mounds of money she must have wasted on that particurlar outfit. And she was wealthy, he had no doubts about that. After all, she had been present at most of the big meetings he had attended, and the way people moved around her, the way they took notice of what she did, and whom she talked to, and more importantly how she talked to them. . . This woman was obviously one of the biggest of the big-shots in the room.

"You look quite stunning this evening, if you don't mind me saying so. Your radiance far outshining that of any other lady in the parlour." He continued, and even though his voice was not quite as extravagantly theatrical as that of his alter-ego, he still had a voice quite excellent for making speeches. Maybe he had gone a little overboard with his proclamation, but done was done. However, a slight change of conversation might be in order

"I happened to notice a slight trace of an accent in your speech. Are you italian by any chance?" the fancy man asked her, hoping to impress her with his powers of observation.

Gentleman's cloak fluggered very dramatically behind as he took great care to position himself in the optimal position regarding the wind that blew through the air. It wasn't a very powerfull wind, but one had to do what he could for the sake of making this as dramatic and memorable as possible. He had no intention of letting his love for the dramatic get the best of him however. After all, despite the fact that thair little game was going well all it would take was one sword-swing to send him into a paupers grave, and he could simply not allow that, not yet. He could not allow himself to pass on, knowing that he would not even make him a footnote in history.

He grinned widely as she commented on his excessive flattery, and even though it was pretty much his standard-treatment of all women who had even slightly caught his interest, he took great pride in what he percieved as a very casanova-ish approached to the opposite gender. Unfortunately quite a few people found his treatement of the womenfolk to be slightly slimey and creepy. He blamed the prevalent plebeian attitudes for this as well.

"No other woman could compete with your loveliness my rose, I assure you." He said suavely as he twirled his umbrella seemingly nonchalantely in one hand. However, this was but a ruse. He was still very much on edge. Her display of super-strength had shaken the poor man upsomewhat.
"You deserve it and far more, my dove. My words cannot do your visage justice."he continued, his deep, theatrical voice still oozing with conciet.

The strike came quickly, but gentleman was ready this time, as he had awaited it, and quickly moved his blade to deflect it, grinning widely as he did so, a small, exceedingly arrogant chuckle escaping his lips as he did so. Apparantly, she had expected that to go alot better. He too had noticed the chopper hovering around them, seemingly documenting their little aireal combat. Of course, he had played with the thought of forcing them to land, but he had decided to let them do their thing. After all, they were putting him on the news again, and he really loved to watch himself on the news. It was one of the greatest thing when you were a narcissistic supervillain.

"My, my. I hope I end up on the news again. I do so love watching my shenanigans on the news, althought they rarely seem to get me from my best side" The fancy-pants flying man said, his deep theatrical voice making it quite clear that he was quite excited by this.

"Of course, you don't have to worry about that, my dear, as you only have good sides." He cooed, a flirtatious smile appearing on his lips as the two hovered, waiting for the next succession of strikes. Oh, how he loved these little games. He decided to let her do the attacking this time, hoping to parry her blade and put yet another tear in her clothing. However, things did not go as planned for either of them. As the woman struck, Gentleman parried hard, hoping to stun her temporarily, however, his attempt worked a little too well, as he managed to break her sword. A tinge of guilt as well as dash of concieded concieted pride filled him as he watched half the blade fall onto the ground.

"How unfortunate. It seems I win our little contest, ol' bean. I would gladly face you again, after you procure a new blade." he said smugly as he prepared to depart the scene. He had not expected the woman to make a grab for his umbrella. Obviously, she was not too fond of how things had progressed. "Quite unsporting!" Gentleman said, his voice still as posh and smug as ever, but there wa a slight tinge of anger in it now. And fear. He was uncertain of what would happen now. For a moment he considered letting go of the umbrella, sending it flying into the woman, but at the same time, he had no wish to harm her that much. Heck, it might even kill her if he was unlucky.

Nor was he prepared for the fact that she would be able to fix her blade by some. . . Mystical mysteriousness. He was barely able to regain his stance as she dropped his umbrella to make a heavy, two-handed chop at his person. He quickly raised his weapon, but she was simply too strong, his attempted parry was brushed aside, and gentleman reflexively dodged backwards, but he was still hit, albeit only slightly. A slight cut on across his left shoulder, a mere flesh-wound as it were, but still rather frightening. Although, his pride hurt far more than the cut.

"Ach! Well played, my dear. You caught me off guard. It will not be as easy next time" he said as he once again raised his umbrella to fight of further attempts to strike him. He wanted to attack, but he had still not found his metaphorical footing after that strike.


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Several women in fact, but none of them can compete with your loveliness. Manfred said, a small, slightly embarrassed smile showing up on his face. This was all pretend, however. Manfred Gentle was one of the people that simply would not acknowledge that he had made a faux-pas or acted silly. That was one thing that he had in common with the gentleman, but apparantly the slight embarrassment caused him to be percieved as "endearing". At least that was what they told him at the office.

Well, yes. I have to confess that I find these affairs rather dull. And yes, you are right. I am representing a shareholder with an interest in the company who is unfortunately unable to travel right now. He continued, his manner returning to the slightly more correct, almost stiff behaviour that was the very opposite of "loosening up"

She might not be as skilled as he was, nor have his speed or coordination, but she was a dangerous opponent no less. Not only was she far stronger than he, or any human for that matter had any right being, but she also seemed to be tougher too. Normally he could slice through the toughest bank-vault as if they were made of butter, yet she seemed to be able to survive getting hit with his weapons. This had intriuged him from the start of the duel. Well, that and her beauty. She may be gray and winged, but she had a certain classical beauty to her. Sort of like the medieval statues of the virgin mary or something similar. But the most enticing thing about her was her playfull attitude. not was it exciting in its own right, but it reminded him of someone he admired and loved. It reminded him of himself.

However, as he managed to find his metaphorical footing, he realized that the situation was not as dire as he had thought only a few minutes ago. Her sudden outburst indicated that she had been rather pressed before making the strike that had cut him. He had been the one leading in their little aerial dance. The expression of a cool, collected calmness as well as an all-encompassing smug concietedness once again returned to his features as the pair continued circling one another in the sky. This time he was looking for the perfect place to strike at next

However, this time she was the one to make the first move. As she tossed her blade into the air, The Gentleman, moved only a few inches closer, making two quick repeated slashes at her, barely more than flicks of the wrist, all the while keeping his eyes focused on the blade. He had already realized what she was up to when she caught it, and so he easily ducked under the slash, backing a few inches away once again, creating some distance between the pair

"I assure you, sweet rose. My sleeves are deep and full of many woundrous tricks. But like all good wizard, I only reveal a select few to my audience, even one as lovely as yourselves" He teased, as he twirled the umbrella in his hand artfully.

That was when he leapt to the attack, attempting a fast slash across her chest whilst his left hand had produced a few coins from his pocket, one of wich he quickly charged and fired her way. He had, however, made sure it was not charged with more energy than the woman could survive, but still enough to cause quite a bit of pain.


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A somewhat crooked, yet wolfish smile appared on Manfreds lips as she asked him to step out with her. It was rather obvious that the idea appealed to the young man. "It would be a disastrous mistake to refuse a woman as lovely as yourself, miss Takeiro." He said, offering her an arm in an old-school gesture of gentlemannery.

Maybe this boring meeting wouldn't turn out so boring after all?