A Cat and Puppet Show.
11:17 PM.
Mario's Cabana.
A Nightclub in the loosest definition of the word, a place to suck down bad drinks while taking in worse entertainment. Not much to it, really. Except for tonight...
It's a funny thing, really. How one can manage to see a world in shades of grey, spanning every value between pure black and pure white, despite one's vision being amber-tinted by a set of impeccably stylish goggles. Selina Kyle's outfit may be pitch black, and her literal world-view may be yellow-tinged, but really...
Both might as well be gray.
What else would drive a woman to toy with cheap locks backstage behind a cheap theatre, located inside a cheap neighborhood of the cheapest city?
Shades of gray, of course.
It's not the first time Selina's stolen, or attempted to steal, from mafia-types. Hell, the Falcone family had basically paid her way through college ten times over by this point, even if it wasn't exactly intentional on their behalf. But stealing too much too quickly from the big names tends to result in a pretty heavy backlash, she's noticed... More than a few past safehouses have been burned as a result. More than a few friends killed. More than a few bullets and knives buried beneath her flesh.
CLICK.
The way the rickety wooden box creaks its way open (after some encouragement from Selina's clawed fingers), one wouldn't assume it contains any great wealth. In fact, Selina has to try hard not to cough from all the dust that pours out of it... Not only does it appear not to have been used in a while, but it looks more intended to hold a damn ventriloquist's dummy than it does cash. Before she has much time to express puzzlement, the muffled sound of applause (and it's very muffled, thanks to the impossibly tiny audience, most of whom are drunk and unaware of where they even are) bleeds through the creaky wooden walls. Apparently, whatever act they've been putting up with watching is now over.
"Purrrfect. Dust and wood. That'll pay the rent on the new beach house... Good thing I brought deep pockets," she hisses sarcastically, the sounds of nearby life forcing her to momentarily disregard the disappointment of finding nothing in the trunk she'd spent the last few minutes picking. She's used to getting the occasional bad tip, but this one takes the cake.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of footfalls, and words exchanged between two clearly(?) different voices make her stop her complaining, though. Better hide... Perhaps this little heist requires more of a personal touch than a behind-the-scenes one. With the speed, grace, and dexterity of a lifelong professional, Selina Kyle flips herself away from the broken-into trunk, over some furniture, and perches herself into a hiding spot between a tall bureau and the ceiling. The shadows there match her outfit perfectly...
... too bad she forgot to close the trunk.
