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#7
APR 15 |
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“In Service of the Queen” Part One
“You never told me that you had been to Biayla before.”
Selina let out a sigh as she looked up, away from her walk to the drab cityscape around her. It was a mixture of old Middle Eastern white buildings and shiny, new skyscrapers. It was a city, a country that held onto its tradition and roots but had also witnessed a recent boom in modern rebuilding. There was a bustle to the street as they were crowded enough to be bothersome, and the streets a hive of constant activity. The arid air was scented with the sweet scent of figs and spilled wine. Businessmen, and women, mingled with those in more traditional garb, as sign of the nation’s more progressive stances for this area of the world.
Selina walked along under the awning of the storefronts they passed, slower of pace and on the edge of the moving crowds. “It was more... quaint, before,” she decided after a moment. “It was years ago, in a different time. A different era. They very literally opened the borders to those of...looser morals, so there was a lot of money to be made here at the time. So much so that a lot of it went missing,” she smiled at the fond memories as she winked to her accomplice.
Holly looked every bit the tourist, mostly because when they left Jump City she had very little left to bring. Selina had gifted her with a backpack full of identities, a life, but she had no new outfits to bring, not like Catwoman did. She had robbed Talia Head and LexCorp, at least of her ‘working attire’, and the two of them had more than enough money since they had swiped all of John Marlowe’s fortune. However, they had been on the run since Gotham without a moment to stop and shop, so they had made due with the souvenir shop at the Bialya International Airport. They wore matching shorts, but where Selina had a white t-shirt with a black sheep that said ‘Baaaa-lya!’ Holly wore a cheesy one that sported a anime-fied picture of Wandjina who gave a dramatic thumbs up gesture. They looked every bit the American tourists they told the customs officials that they were.
“Anything that went ‘missing’ I am sure that no one was too eager to report either,” Holly mused.
Selina tapped her nose as her younger partner got it. “When it first went that way, you had to declare what funds you brought in so that they could skim forty percent off the top. I made sure to get out before they figured out they should also check on what people left with.”
As Selina went back to lazy-looking around, Holly decided to also scan the street they walked down. “So, who was the craziest supervillain you ever met here?”
That took Selina moment before she answered. “Killer Icicle.”
Holly kept her remorse silent as she had hoped for more of a story than just a name, yet she knew not to push it. Her silence was broken as Selina was there, at her ear with her hands on Holly’s shoulder to direct eyes to the convoy that tore past. Cars honked and there were shouts but they moved out of the way of the pair of armored vehicles, and the numerous armed troops they carried. “There goes another one.”
“What do you think it means?”
Selina let go of Holly as she righted herself. “I’m guessing that’s why Mr. Font sent us here.” She watched the convey turn a corner and barrel off to another part of the city, with those in the wake returning to normal once it had passed.
The Mr. Font that was on retainer to find them ‘work’ and the one that Holly was to maintain contact with. She instinctively laid a hand, unbandaged now, over the satchel at her side that carried her laptop. “This is a dangerous place. Why did you agree to us coming here?”
They had reached a small cafe, so Selina slowed, came to a stop and then glided to a seat at an open table as she considered how best to respond to that. Holly had her guesses. “Because I need to know that I can trust him.”
Holly joined her. “Even if that means risking your life? Our lives?”
“Is there a better way to find out?” Selina gave that easily as she turned to greet the waiter that approached their table, a pair of menus in his hands. She cut him off before he could make introductions. “Two coffees, lots of cream,” she smiled.
The waiter, an older man with a bushy white mustache gave a chuckle at that. “And for your friends?”
As he gestured Holly looked to confirm that, yes, the growing herd of street cats that had followed them all the way from the airport were indeed still there. There were more now as they kept coming out of hiding places to pool around her and Selina. This part of the world was known for its friendly street cats but this was something of notice, with a mass of them gathered around the two seated visitors. Holly should have been alarmed, she knew that this would make them stand out, but it was also...she understood why Selina had looked comforted the moment they stepped off the plane.
As if on cue, one of the eldest of the cats leapt up on the table. She was scruffy, grey and dirty, with patches of missing fur and an ear, with one eye closed shut from some old wound. “A saucer for Queen Alia here,” Selina purred happily as she reached out to scratch the cat’s one remaining ear, “and a couple of bottles for her subjects.” The waiter chuckled again but then she shot him a look to determine her seriousness and he hurried off to comply.
“Chin up,” Selina soothed her companion. Alia, the cat, because to purr which was a frightening stuttering of garbled growls and moans let she leaned into Selina’s petting. “This might be a rough one but we might get a few cool scars out of it.”
Holly held up a hand to block the vision from one of her eyes. Her hands had only now started to become something other than a burden to her, and there was still a lot of pain when she moved her fingers for too long. But it had gotten better. “As long as we stick to the plan,” she knew and shared.
“Yes,” Selina agreed calmly. The waiter fumbled his way to the table now with a tray for the two coffees, bottles and saucer as he had a swarming mass of stray cats to get through to deliver them. “Now, drink up. We’ll need to be alert,” she scratched under Alia’s chin as the old cat continued that grotesque mutilated purr. “Since it’s not every day we get to mingle with royalty.”
It ended up being crowded in their hotel room. After they had arrived, Holly opened the window when she found the air conditioner broken. Despite them being on the twentieth floor Queen Alia popped through the opening not long after. All night long more of Alia's followers let themselves in so that when they woke Selina and Holly were greeted with a suite full of strays. Holly had been concerned what the staff might say about it but Selina assured her they wouldn't be staying long. The hotel was in the older part of town, where the buildings were hundreds of years used, yet it had been updated with more modern amenities over the years. The air had given out but the water was good, so while Selina showered Holly decided to test the WiFi. It was stable enough that she was able to get a connection to Mr. Font.
Arrived. All is well. Ready for contact.
There was no immediate response so Holly set about to find other things to do. She was amused with how many of the strays followed her around despite the lack of anything to get into. They had traveled light, each with no more than a single bag to themselves. Selina had promised that more would come, and soon. They had secured the gear, then the funds and after they had proven themselves they could 'begin' ... though to Holly she didn't understand why Selina was so set on starting over. Catwoman was a world renowned thief but Selina seemed to need this, so Holly went with it. Who was she to complain? She felt like she needed this too.
The air outside was no relief from the air inside when Holly elected to take in the view from the balcony. Bialya was once a pretty country, she realized as she looked out over the morning cityscape. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of Istanbul. There were pockets of old and pockets of new, like where a bomb had gone off to replace what was lost with something out of Midtown, U.S.A. There was old grit and new dirt, that even if the buildings were shiny and new, there was tarnish to them. Something might have been updated when it was gone but that heritage of secrecy, of guile permeated everything. Con artists lined the streets to peddle wares and what money they didn’t take in, the pickpockets would claim. Now that Holly knew what to look for, that danger was everywhere here, but not in the crushing sense that it had been in Gotham. This was accepted, the open trade of back alleys and boardrooms, which made it almost ... comfortable. This could be a place they could settle into nicely.
“Any word from our friend?” Selina asked as she joined Holly on the balcony, clad in a towel with another wrapped around her head. Selina's black hair had managed to come back with the same speedy recovery that Holly's hands had experienced, and was now a scruffy mange of shaggy black. It made Holly want to cut her hair to match.
“Nothing yet.” She hadn't heard the *beep* of anything come in over the secure line. “Which isn't unusual. It must make some time to set up things, I'm sure.”
“I wonder which one will find us first,” mused Selina aloud. Before Holly could ask for clarification there was a knock at their door. “Be a dear and get that,” she asked as she darted back inside to retrieve her bag, sidestepping the ocean of strays that had let themselves in, and then bounded for the bathroom. She was off to get dressed for ‘work’ and here Holly was still in her pajamas, which consisted of the t-shirt she’d picked up yesterday.
“Coming,” she called out when the knock repeated itself. Holly scooted around cats to her laptop to snap it closed, slide it into her satchel and then pulled on a pair of leggings she had yanked out. Again, there was a knock, so this time Holly made sure she could be heard. “Coming!”
Holly opened the door just as the person on the other side was set to show their impatience once more. Primed to knock was an older woman, white hairs at the temples in her long black hair, bound in a braid down her back. She had been pretty once but now was more battled, barren and mean. She was dressed in an expensive striped pantsuit, as though she had stepped out of a board meeting to be here and could easily have fit in with any of the young business people they had observed yesterday. Instead of a purse she wore an assault rifle.
“Ah, the ‘friend’,” the woman said, her accent richly local. Her brown eyes looked past the girl before her to the room of strays, many of which scattered back out the window and out the balcony at the guest’s arrival. “I see that I have the right place.”
“Your majesty,” Catwoman smiled as she stepped into the room, fully dressed in her working suit, whip slung around her waist. “You summoned me?”
The visitor saw herself in as more of the strays scattered away from her presence. “Michelle, Michelle Pfeiffer. Is that the name you are still using?” She laughed as Holly closed the door behind her.
“Among many. I see you have met my sister, Lori,” Catwoman gestured, though the woman didn’t turn to look to the younger woman. Instead she stayed focused on ‘Michelle’. “To business then? I doubt that you asked to see me just to relive old memories.”
“That would be fun. Remember that night in Tristidad? Of course you do! That’s night you must have had three or four of my cousins seek to make you a distant successor to my throne,” the guest smiled.
Catwoman ignored the trip down memory lane. “Lori, this is Queen Beatriz of Bialya.”
“Pleasure to meet you m’la-...!” Holly didn’t get any further in her greeting before she had Beatriz’s assault rifle in her face, quite literally, with the queen’s finger on the trigger. Her hands went up.
Alia, the cat, hissed as did several of her followers, but Catwoman held up her hands for silence so all that died down. The moment was tense and she didn’t need anyone doing anything foolish, not when the gun was pointed at Holly.
“Sorry, Catwoman,” Beatriz explained, “but I can’t afford for you to say ‘no’ to this one.”
They collectively exited the hotel for the queen's limo, which sat waiting outside. Catwoman was in her costume still and Holly held at gunpoint, but no one in the lobby or on the street dared to make eye contact. Plausible deniability had long been a currency in Bialya. Once the three were inside, Beatriz motioned for her driver to go. She had Catwoman's attention and meant to put it to immediate use.
“It would seem that Biayla's open door policy would have benefited from greater oversight. That fool, Harjavti, when he first opened our borders to your kind,” Beatriz scoffed in Catwoman's direction as she simultaneously absolved herself of such classification. She continued, “My sister and I had thought that someone would take advantage to seize power for himself. Harjavti thought to solve this with Wandjina, but my sister and I knew the only way to prevent such a coup was to claim that opportunity for ourselves. Yet,” she sighed dramatically, “that did not prevent her from coming.”
“Someone took your throne?”
Beatriz wanted to ignore Holly's question but the disgust on her face was too immediate to deny. Still, she kept the girl at gunpoint and maintained her focus on the far more dangerous Catwoman. “Not yet,” she stressed with a smile. “Though she is working on it,” Beatriz hissed as that smile turned itself upside down. “I still have the military, as you might of seen, but her weaponry...it is ferocious. We have no means to combat it.”
“Who are you dealing with, Beatriz?”
“What happened to 'Majesty'?” The Queen sounded wounded, especially as Catwoman retained her still calm. “The Usurper is also called 'Queen Bee', though her real name is Zazzala. It sounds alien because she is, which is why her technology is so baffling.”
“So, you want me to get in to her base and return with all of her secrets?”
“No. My engineers assure me that even if we were to claim her technology we would be unable to understand it or make sure of it. Before you even suggest it, no, I am not going to reach out to the likes of Ivo or Magnus. One madman at a time for me is enough.”
“Then...?”
“My crown,” the Queen pouted, easily enough. “It was in the castle she took over and has based herself out of. With it, I can make use of its symbolic nature to my people. They do love their idols and relics. So, if I can show my guile to reclaim it for my people, then they can take up arms in my name to rid Biayla of this unwanted intruder.”
“You almost make it sound like you care about your poor subjects,” Holly cut in as she clutched her satchel to her chest. “Instead of, you know, making them into cannon fodder. You can't beat her but can hopefully out-man her?”
Beatriz smiled sickly sweet. “What is a queen without her hive of drones?” However, she now spared a look to Holly. “I like your sister, Michelle. She's pretty clever.”
“More than you are aware,” Catwoman replied calmly. “There's no need for veiled threats. I get it. You like her but you would like your crown more.” Beatriz nodded in agreement to that sentiment. “Just give me the where and let me get to work.”
“I'll arrange for ground transport to get you close. And Michelle, I want this done before the end of the day.”
“Understood,” sighed Catwoman, clearly bored with Queen Bee's antics. Yet, the woman did have Holly at gunpoint so she was allowed some measure of theatrics. “Actually, if you can get me above,” she said as she held up her hands. Small disks in her palm hummed for a demonstrative moment before Catwoman lowered them again to explain. “I have a way to get to this even quicker.”
There wasn't really much of an opportunity for Catwoman to say anything to Holly before she got on the military-class chopper that picked her up. From the car, Beatriz had summoned it and a short time later Catwoman was airborne. She had been allowed to give 'Lori' a quick embrace before takeoff, and when Selina looked back, Holly had been directed back into the limo. All would be well as long as Holly stuck to the plan, Catwoman reminded herself.
It wasn't long before the craft left the capital of Bialya City behind, since it had stopped to pick her up on the outskirts. A mixture of desert and rocky mountainside sped underneath as the chopper headed straight for the neighboring city of Tristidad, the main (and only) harbor port in Bialya. It was known for its casinos, bars and brothels. When Selina was younger and far less knowledgeable she had actually considered running away to Tristidad to work in one of those seedy dens, as the promise of someone of her age and 'profession' had even reached Gotham gossip circles. However, now she was being flown to the castle set in the cliffside that overlooked the port.
It had once been a Moorish monastery or an outpost during the Crusaders for a legion of less than stellar legacy, if any of the tall tales about it where to be believed. To Catwoman it looked like an abandoned nest of stone walls that wove through the catacombs and caverns of the cliff face.
The pilot said something to Catwoman in Bailyan. Before she could ask for a translation she spotted what his panicked (the words might have been unknown but the tone was impossible to not decipher) cry had been for, as approaching them where two creatures, massive and easily each twice the size of the helicopter she was in. They were giant mutant bees! “Well, that's not what I expected.”
The pilot did not reply to her, even if he heard her as he shouted something to his co-pilot. Suddenly they lurched as the bees came right at them, to the point that they had to dive to narrowly avoid a collision. Selina was reminded of a fact she had heard once, that once a bee used its stinger it would die. She wasn't sure if that was true but she wasn't about to be undone by a pair of kamikaze bees. Holly deserved a fate better than that. When the co-pilot shouted something that sounded like a call to retreat to Selina, she slapped him. “No,” she commanded as she pointed to a spot above the castle. “There! Go there!”
The next several moments we intense as the helicopter had to dodge a couple more buzzing dive bombs from the oversized attackers, but it managed to make the approach to Castle Tristidad. The pilot and co-pilot were now in a heated argument and Catwoman decided aloud, “Close enough.” She spied one of the bees out of the corner of her eye as she dove out the open side for the open skies and a second later the aircraft exploded with a mass of former insect.
The absurdity of it struck her as she plummeted towards the land below her. It wasn’t just the giant mutated insects, the bits of which rained down with the debris of the Bialyan military helicopter she had been in. It wasn’t just that she was back in Bialya of all places; Selina was used to odd; she had shared a city with an overgrown man-child that dressed as a bat after all. No, it was more that she had accepted this more-or-less blind. Normally she liked to be more cautious, more careful and to have the details scouted and planned out in advance. She was flying (or falling) blind here and very much on purpose. Like Metropolis and Jump City, Catwoman was testing herself and her partnerships, with both Holly and Mr. Font. Certain danger meant that maybe she’d be sure where she stood...even as she raced towards the ground with alarming speed.
Yet, Catwoman was calm.She had time to think as she fell and to activate her goggles, and she scanned over the honeycombed palace woven into the cliff face that she fell past. There were a lot of bodies inside, a lot of people and...larger things. No doubt more of those overgrown bees. With grace, Catwoman angled herself away from the insect goo and chopper bits as she executed a dive towards the rocky castle. Once she was clear she activated the deceleration pads in her boots and gloves, something she had designed for and then stolen from LexCorp. They had been her means of escape from Talia al Ghul Head and now they would be her means of entrance into Castle Tristidad. With her right hand she clawed for the facade as she slowed to a hover and then, with her left, her whip was drawn and flicked. A flagpole made an excellent purchase to swing from to reach an open window so that Catwoman might let herself in, as outside behind her it rained down flaming debris and bee-bits.
There was a scramble, or rather a buzzing, outside as there was some investigation into the crash but Catwoman didn’t stop to confirm that it was more actual, giant bees doing the work. Inside the castle she had an unfamiliar landscape to navigate and a host of Bialyan workers scattered throughout the complex. They were all male, Catwoman guessed – at least the ones she could see from her infrared readings. She didn’t stop to wonder why as she took to the shadows, only the red of her lens not lost in the dark corners she found her way among.
The deeper into the catacombs of a castle she ventured the greater density of wires and alien machinery that wove over ceiling and walls, and even through them. If there was a pattern to their function, Catwoman didn’t see it but she was sure that it felt very ‘insect’. Instead of cooler, as she would have expected, the air became warmer, stickier and even tasted sweet as she breathed it in. Everything, it seemed, flowed from the central throne room so that is the direction Catwoman sent herself.
The movement of the workers, men and giant bees both, was dizzying to keep track on via her infrared goggles, so much so that without being aware of it one of that mutated bees came up on her from behind without Catwoman noticing it. Panicked, she brandished a claw, ready to defend herself...but the bee matched past her without so much as a glance or twitch. Curious now, Catwoman tested this with a man that walked by a dark corridor she had hidden in. When she stepped out he didn’t even so much as flinch, or even blink. Castle Tristidad was old, ancient even and anything wired in for electronics was before or without forethought to modern security surveillance. Now, seemingly without anything to worry about, Catwoman wore an amused smirk as she sauntered down hallways without worry of being detected. Things were moving a lot more quickly now.
Catwoman saw her way into what must have been a central room, once an internal courtyard but now served as a conduit for passage into the catacomb passages that sprouted off in all directions. There was a fair amount of traffic here, of both insect and man. The lighting was decent for incandescent, too bright for her infrared but not dim enough that she couldn’t make out her target. Around to a side was a man, American from the look of him with his blond hair and cutoff jean shorts, that took things from one stack that the insects would drop off into another pile that the human would then cart off. Catwoman decided to introduce herself to her fellow wayward tourist.
“Let me guess, you got a good price on airfare and always wanted to see the worst parts of this end of the world?” The man gave Catwoman no sign of response. She would need to force the issue. She sighed as she hated to do this, a bit – mostly because it made everything easier. So, she slinked up to the man as he worked and draped her arms around his neck and pressed herself, quite liberally, into his back. “Surely you didn’t come here for the scenery,” she purred at his ear, “So why not get lost together?”
And...nothing.
Frustrated, Catwoman peeled herself off the man as he continued to labor. Yet, if he wouldn’t talk then he could still tell her things. Catwoman slipped back, away from him to a spot just across from where he toiled and...sat. To watch. The bugs came, the men went. She curled up a bit, to see what she could see.
The throne room of Castle Tristidad had been converted to suit the needs of the usurper.
The temperature was chilled, cooler than the honeyed tunnels that had lead here. It was as broad as it was open, decorated by statues and pillars instead of furniture. Instead of conveying a sense of Bialyan history as they once had, now a network of cables and wires bound them together with a suspended net of alien technology that hummed with a constant frenzy, like that of cicadas on a hot day in summer. The device they fed to was to the side of the throne, unattended but very much alive with an eerie pulse.
It had once been a cavern at the heart of the mountain that the palace had been carved in, or out, of. The ceilings were high enough that a small plane could fly around the peak in lazy, daring loops, as the stalactites were shaved off. A fixture of lights and shaped glass were painted across the domed top which illuminated the vast room below in a pleasing array of shades. Center to the room was a dias upon which was a high-backed oversized chair of carved gold and glass, the massive seat more the size of a bed than a seat. That might have explained why the occupant was lounged, laid out in a mindless malais. She was attended to by creature and man alike as they buzzed about her casual boredom with a flurry of activity, as they sought to attend to unspoken whims of fancy.
She was a tall woman, broad and strong despite her lackadaisical nature, with windswept lavender hair dressed in an almost comical nature, considering the nature of her operation, of stripes of black and yellow. Her segmented green eyes looked at nothing and yet everything all at once, but turned to focus on the woman that had just dared to saunter into the heart of her claimed palace.
“I truzzzzst therezzz zzzomething you think I havzzze for you?” The words were amused, Catwoman sensed, and the nature buzz to the speech nothing short of irritating. They grated on her senses and Catwoman was aware of her desire to swat them out of the air, if she could. “Why elzzzze would you darezzzz to zzzzhow yourzzzzelf?”
Catwoman answered the best way she could think to. “Not from around here, are you?”
This amused Queen Bee enough that she sat up to get a better look at the black-clad intruder to her stolen domain. “I zzzzhould zzzay the zzzzame of you. However, yezzzzz...I am fromzz further awayzz than you,” she smiled. “But we both belongzz in this place for exilezzzz.”
Catwoman nodded, to indicate that she still heard though she didn’t seem to really listen. When she entered she had walked towards the throne but now she strayed. “What’s with all of the noisy junk?” She kicked at a statue as she passed, then circled it, at some of the alien-looking tech that hung from it.
That caused the Queen to stand and when she did, amidst the scuttle and scurry that caused, Catwoman noticed a pair of gossamer wings on the bug-eyed beauty from afar. A sneer was on those lush, soft lips, one that made Catwoman feel regretful for what she had just do-... what! No! No she wasn’t sorry!
“Ahhhh,” chuckled the Queen, the sound of that like a clash of angry hornets, loud and layered with noise. “You havzzz a will, greater than thozzzze I have lured here.”
“Stop it,” Catwoman bristled. Her hand came up to cover her mouth instinctively as she sought to protect the air she breathed in. Queen Bee’s second laugh confirmed her fears, so Catwoman pulled up the bottom of her mask, an addition of Gambi’s, that concealed her otherwise exposed lower half of her face. He had added it as an element to assist in her thievery, to mask her face completely, but now Catwoman hoped it would guard against whatever it was this alien pumped into the air.
“Thezzze machines are all I havzze left of Korll,” the displaced despot stated as she now took steps towards Catwoman, away from her stolen throne and down to the covered thief that had been bold enough to step into her court. “Azzzide from my mozzt loyal of zzzubjetzzz,” she cooed as she reached out to stroke the heads of a pair of the giant bees that surged to her side. “My guardzzzmen.” She stepped closed as Catwoman watched, breathed and tried to calm herself to see if the effects of the alien woman were gone. “I am Zazzala,” she introduced herself, “but zzzoon I zzhall claimzz thizzz world and your kindzzz will know me as Queen Bee!”
Catwoman reeled, less from the Queen’s dramatic declaration but more from the phenomenal assault that accompanied it, as it was almost thick enough to choke on. Literally. Yet, whatever Giambi had put in her mask helped. Her head was foggy, clouded, but not useless even if Catwoman did need to reach out for the column she had kicked at for support. She felt good enough to retort, “Sorry, but Earth’s already got one of those. You’ll have to look elsewhere.”
Once more Queen Bee laughed, that pitched buzzing that irritated the senses. She shook her head as she continued her slow march, for effect, towards Catwoman. “That weak-willed woman?” Catwoman found herself unable to retort to that. “If she hazzd the will equal to zzzztrength of her armyzzz....well, reigning zzz for thozzze willing to do whatzzz needzz to be done. My worldzz was taken fromzz me, thief, zzzo I zzzhall claimzz thizzz one.”
That’s when Catwoman spotted it; the Crown of Bialya. It wasn’t a very pretty thing nor anything of any great craftsmanship or grace. It had been fashioned from an era before history had been recorded in this country which gave it all the weight it truly bore, as heritage and tradition were what empowered it. It was a circlet of stained wood and knotted with silvered thread, with the only real value to it the crude, uncut diamond that had been set into it. It was worthless, technically, but was priceless historically, something that those in Bialya mysteriously respected. With it Beatriz might just be able to rally her people, outside the military loyal to her, into desperate action. And it sat on the floor at the end of the dias, discarded to the dust as the useless trinket that Zazzala must of taken it for.
“Haven’t you heard,” Catwoman coughed. “Earth is pretty broken. We’ve messed it up pretty badly. If even Superman can’t fix it, you sure you even want it?”
This caused Queen Bee to stop in her descent for a moment, as if to consider what Catwoman had just proposed. “Thizzz world is ideal,” she concluded. “Oncezz the tranzzzporter izzz finizzhed, I zzzhall zzzummon the rezzt of my peoplezz to me. We zzzhall pollinate whole planetzzz from thizzz one. Thizzz is only the zzztart to my command of this whole zzztellar zzyzztem!”
Catwoman had heard enough. As she acted he was reminded of why she had accepted to return to Biayla in the first place. Mr. Font, Holly – they had better be on her side because there was no way of getting out of this without them.
“About that...,” Catwoman sauced as she grabbed her whip. It cracked in the air with a sharp lick to Queen Bee’s face, a move that startled her loyal subjects into immediate action as they rushed at the attacker. However, before she could be tackled, Catwoman’s strike hadn’t been meant to hit, just to extend her whip fully as she brought it down to snag that crude crown on the ground. With it ‘grabbed’, she whipped it overhead and hurled it at the main console to Queen Bee’s supposed teleporter device. “... time for a better plan.”
Below Castle Tristidad, hidden safely in the packed city streets, they watched from the royal limo as a flash of blinding light sprayed out from the cliff face that signaled what had just happened inside. Clearly, things had not gone according to plan for Queen Beatriz had wanted Catwoman to sneak in and out with her crown but something wrong, something flashy had just taken place inside. From her side of the backseat Holly swallowed. Things had only gone from worse to immediately and incredibly even oh-so much more worse.
“What..?!” Beatriz was beside herself and pressed herself to the window to get a better look that that thing that she couldn’t see, as it had happened well behind much rock of Mount Tristidad. Their vantage point wasn’t great to begin with as they were packed down a narrow alleyway, much the way Beatriz’s forces were stationed, poised to make their brutal assault on the invading Queen once the crown had been returned. She turned to her kidnapped leverage, Holly, and jabbed the barrel of the assault rifle she held into Holly’s ribs.
“Ouch, hey! Wat-..”
“Silence! Tell me what Catwoman has done in there.”
“Like I know,” Holly puffed. She was in no position to be defiant but that didn’t stem her frustration any. “I’m not in communication with her, not that you’d allow me to be. So just chill, okay. She’ll be back. You know she’s good for it. There’s no one better.”
Beatriz sneered at that, enough so that it caused Holly to feel even more alarm than for the rifle that was held on her. “You sing her praises, Lori, but you would be wiser to say your goodbyes.”
Holly peered. “What do you...?”
“War, especially civil war, it is so easy to get caught in the crossfire. So many loose ends, I mean, so many innocents lost,” the vile Queen grinned. “When Michelle returns with my crown, the last things she will see shall be your corpse, before she joins you in the afterlife. This test of my authority has already cost me too much and I refuse to allow any more thievery in my kingdom,” she laughed.
Holly’s stomach sank as she felt...she felt...like her moment to act had passed. She cursed herself under her breath, which actually caught Beatriz by surprise. When Her Highness, reflectively, asked what was said, Holly seized on the opportunity, no matter how slight, that had been presented to her.
When Selina had left, she had slipped one of her Promethium claws into Holly’s bag, and with Beatriz fixated on Castle Tristidad after that helicopter explosion, Holly had slipped in on. Quick as she could she swiped, that claw out as it raked through the barrel pointed at her, and she sliced it to ribbons easily. This was not before Beatriz had managed to squeeze off a shot, the blast of it deafening in the back of the limousine. It had been wide, fortunate for Holly, and blew out the back window instead of the girl’s head. Both women wanted to clutch for their ears though only Beatriz did, as in the panic of the moment Holly managed to act still. She sliced at the door behind it and it fell away in pieces as the Promethium claws did their intended job.
Holly scrambled to freedom and raced away, directionless and deaf, without a sense of where to flee other than away. Then, before her, a scraggly tuff of a cat darted in front of her. Queen Alia! Holly didn’t give it a second thought as she followed the elder cat into the darkness.
“Lead on, your highness.”
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To Be Continued...
Next: In Catwoman #8: What happens to those with their hands caught in the honey jar?
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