Henrietta and Twyla had decided to go out for some lunch. The brunette had been so excited when they picked a date and headed out to a small restaurant. It was a nice Italian place, but not large in size. The part of New York City it was situated in was a bit far away from the Mansion, but they had made a choice to try it anyway. Henri had heard people talk about how great the food was and Henri did like herself a good meal. When she had heard about it, she had informed her best friend of the location and both girls had thought it sounded wonderful.

They were now sitting inside and Henrietta smiled at the waiter that came to their table. He looked about 18 or 19 and he had dark brown hair and eyes. He introduced himself as Weston and gave the girls a smile. The brunette couldn't help but notice how cute he was. Note to self: Mention to Twyla when he leaves. "Can I have a Pepsi please?" He turned to take Twyla's drink order next. After he had the requests, he walked back into the kitchen from where he had came. The girl giggled and smiled at her friend. "He was pretty hot, eh?" She sighed and propped her head on her hand. "A little old for me though."

Weston returned a few moments later with both of their drinks. He sat them down and pulled out a notepad. "All ready to order?" Henri glanced at Twyla and then back at the young man. "I think so. I'd like the spaghetti with marinara sauce, please." He nodded and turned to Twyla. "And you?"

Twyla Ashby liked Italian food, it wasn't her favorite, but she liked it. When Henri had suggested they check out an Italian restaurant that she'd heard about the blond had decided it sounded like a decent plan for a Saturday afternoon. The restaurant wasn't outrageous in its prices (something Twyla had asked about) and so the pair had taken the bus across town to the place and had gotten a table by the window after a short wait.

Mildly-Attractive-Waiter did his thing and Twyla ordered a Dr.Pepper to offset Henri's Pepsi. Who names their kid Weston? That seems like such a presumptuous name... Apparently names were not on Henri's mind as she giggled about Weston's hotness. Her friend shrugged. "He's alright I suppose..." She mused as she twirled her fork free from the napkin. "Not too old for me." Twyla stuck her tongue out just in time for their waiter to return with their drinks and see it. Thankfully, he said nothing, just asked them if they were ready to order.

Twyla was blushing slightly when she responded with her own order. "Uh, I'll have the fettuccine alfredo, please." Twyla did so love anything covered in cheese. She smiled at him as he took their menus and walked back to the kitchen. When his back was safely turned Twyla rolled her eyes. "Had he been truly hot my powers would have kicked in after being caught like that. Note that the blush is fading fast, he's just older-cute." The girl reached forward and pulled her drink closer and then she took a sip. It was cold an it made her shiver through her cardigan. That sip also reminded her of something she'd realized on one of their buses.

"And on that note, I have to use the rest room." She pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse before heading purposefully off in search of a ladies bathroom.

((ooc: Henri, Lenna—let me know if this works, of if anything needs editing!))

The panther man adjusted his square-rimmed glasses, wincing slightly. In this form, his facial structure was much more cat-like than human. Mixed in with his broad, flat nose was still a bit of human, though, and under his short black fur was a rather fantastic bruise. Apparently his training in other forms with Katrina wasn’t exactly helping his broken human nose to heal. Noted.

In any case, it was his day off from Kat’s regimen. Officially, he was going to check on whether his pet lobster was still alive and full of claw-waving wrath. Unofficially, the Boss Lady had a mission for him.

Calley had always liked missions.

He’d already been wearing his Miles form when he met his teammate at the Sanctuary; so far only Lori knew that two of her Order members happened to be the same person, and he’d like to keep it that way. On a related note, his new teammate’s power had given him a brief heart attack: fortunately, there really was more panther than man in this form, and Lenna’s incomplete nullification still left him with a rather strange facial structure. Not Miles, but not Calley again, either, and still a little furry. No worries.

So she was an Adapted. A weak Adapted. His whiskers were in the habit of curiously pointing her direction, from a cautious six feet away.

Post-meeting, they’d circled back to the Mansion to see what their target was up to. He had a few ideas as to how they could lure Henrietta out, but he was already making up excuses in his head for Kat as to why he’d be missing the next few days, in case they needed more time to plan.

Then Henrietta had thoughtfully escorted herself off the Mansion grounds, bringing only one friend with.

Well then. Here he was: sitting in an Italian restaurant, a few tables away from the hair manipulator and her friend. He’d come in about ten minutes after them. Lenna was outside, likely watching thanks to the girl’s excellent window-front seating. Their play-it-by-ear plan was for him to scope things out. If he could, he’d bring Henrietta out: if he couldn’t, they’d try the capture again another day.

Her friend went to the bathroom. The panther man’s ears twitched to see the poor girl sitting all alone. He rose from his own table and approached, making sure his pawed feet made adequate noise on the floor. Sneaking up on her was not what he had in mind.

He cleared his throat, hesitantly. “Excuse me. This may be out of line, but I couldn’t help but overhearing a bit of your conversation earlier.” His large ears twitched in sheepish apology. “Your friend mentioned ‘powers’? I’m new in town. There’s a place I’m looking for. I wonder if you’ve heard of it?” He reached into his vest pocket, and pulled out a carefully folded sheet of paper; on it was the address of Xavier’s Sister School, as well as its mouthful title: Xavier’s Sister School for Gifted Youngsters. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to find the bus route there, but most people don’t take very kindly to questions from people with... powers.” His whiskers gave a self-deprecating twitch.

The panther man’s tail curled around his leg as he scratched stubby fingers against the back of his head. “If you happened to know anything about it—better yet, if you could point me to the right bus stop—I’d be very grateful.”

It was an interesting mission. Far more unique than anything Slate had ever assigned. The Order was not slacking when it came to evil master plans. Lenna didn’t know what the master plan was here, but it involved kidnapping… of one of the Kabal’s own, actually. Henrietta was their target. Lenna had met her. That was an understatement. Lenna had been the one to get her involved with the Kabal in the first place… and now, she’d be aiding in the girl’s kidnapping. The world worked in mysterious ways.

Earlier that day, she’d met with her partner. He was a fearsome panther man. They’d tested her effect on him. Everything had gone smoothly. Now, she was in the candy van, waiting. The plan was simple. He’d catch the hair-manipulator, and Lenna would drive getaway. A hood covered most of her head. A pair of black shades masked her face. Her eyes swung to stare at the restaurant.

For the moment, her job duty was to wait. She hoped Miles would come out with their target soon.

Poor girl. Hopefully, the Order was gentle. She wouldn't break her cover, if they weren't.

Twyla hadn't seemed very impressed with the waiter. Henrietta made her lower lip jut out to give the blond a pouty look. She was a little sad that the other girl was old enough to date him, but had no interest. She has Mirror. The brunette sighed as she thought about Van. She wanted to call him because she missed him, but at the same time she was still a little hurt. Henri made a decision not to mention him because it would probably only bring down the mood of their get-together. Before she had any time to respond to anything that Twyla had said, she announced she was going to the bathroom and walked off. Henrietta's eyebrow raised a little and then she laughed. Calling after her friend she said, "I'll be here!"

As she sat waiting for Twyla's return, a man with a tail approached Henrietta. He asked if he knew the way to the Mansion, only he had called it by it's official title. It seemed that he had overheard the two girls' discussion over Weston. She felt a pang of sympathy when he said that people didn't respond well to mutants. The girl nodded. "Um, yeah. I know how to get there. I could point the bus stop out for you. It's down that way a little." She pointed down toward the direction of the stop and then realized how vague the description was. The girl stood up from her chair and walked toward the door, so that she could direct the man easier. Henri took a step outside and then pointed once more. The bell on the door made a light 'ding' noise as it shut. "It's that way, sir. I believe it's the third stop down. I hope that was of some help." She smiled and then reached for the door handle to head back inside.

((Calley posting next would probably make the most sense and then Lenna or Twyla. I hope that works. ))

((ooc: Lenna and Henri—tell me if I need to change anything!))

She was heading back inside. Simple enough. There was a slight flaw in the brunette’s plan, however: the panther man was still next to the door. A meaningful slide of a claw-tipped black foot against its frame, and the door refused to open.

“Thank you,” Miles said, his ears twitching back modestly. “You’ve been most kind.”

A flash of sharp white teeth was all the more warning she got. Then the panther man was lunging towards her in a tackle that would, with any luck, carry them both across the few short feet from the restaurant to the sidewalk’s edge.

There waited the white van, with its charming black windows, idling engine, and Adapted driver.

Poor little Twyla. That empty table might be even more traumatizing than a naked toad prince.

((OOC: Hope this post is alright. If it isn’t, let me know.))

In the rear-view mirror, Lenna watched everything. A flash of teeth, a blur of black fur. The panther man was good. He didn’t need any of her help incapacitating Henrietta. As he brought the girl towards the truck’s back, Lenna buckled up.

A door in the back slammed. Once they were ready, the candy van pulled away from the curb, into traffic.

That wasn’t hard at all, Lenna mused, as the van sped away from the restaurant. Not. Hard. At all.

Everything inside of the bathroom went just swimmingly. Twyla managed not to have an unfortunate accident and she even found a quarter in her stall (it was later washed off in the sink after being picked up with the use of toilet paper). Everything was just splendid on the blond girl's end, even if she did take her own sweet time returning to the outside world. You see, the only problem with the bathroom experience was that with the combination of lighting and giant mirror stretching above the row of sinks the girl realized that she looked a bit of a mess. Her hair was getting frizzed out of the careful side braid she'd tied it in that morning and her make-up was a bit on the dismal side. No worries, the girl decided, she had lots of time before their food and mildly attractive waiter arrived again at their table.

No worries...

So Twyla had undid, braided, undid again, and pulled her hair into a ponytail that did wonders on hiding her frizz. She also took plenty of time wiping off some of her minimalist makeup-that-was-much-too-much (along with making sure her lip gloss wasn't too messed up after drinking some of her Dr.Pepper). By the time the girl was satisfied (and thoroughly sick of the strange 70s music that was being played in the bathroom) a few minutes had gone by. Brown eyes scanned the room and suddenly noted that Henri wasn't where she'd left her. No worries, maybe she needed to check on something--or she's chatting up West-whatever-his-presumptions-name-is. I hope she'd chatting up West-mildly-attractive-waiter-guy, that would do her some good.

Slowly the girl took stock of the rest of the medium sized restaurant, there were no tall, hair manipulating mutant in sight. What the heck? Worry began to bubble in the girl's stomach when she saw that her's and Henri's bags were still sitting at the table. She wouldn't have just left her stuff... This was all decidedly weird and out of character. [/i]She wasn't in the bathroom...where would she have gone. This isn't like Henrietta.[/i] The girl soon saw a familiar face, his name tag read 'Weston'. "Have you seen my friend? The girl I came in with--she's tall and has dark hair..?"

"Uh, yeah." the waiter replied. "She just left, like, a minute ago with some dude...he looked like something out of Cats or something..." The man left to go and tend some needy lunch eaters before she could ask him what he meant. She left!? Worry turned into a more pressing sense of panic and the girl scooped up her purse and Henri's and walked to the host podium. "Um, my friend just left with someone...Can I leave my information with you in case she comes back?" The elderly man nodded at Twyla's barely steady request and soon she scribbled out her name and cell phone number on a paper menu.

A moment later the girl was on the street looking for a Broadway actor(?) and her best friend. "Henri?" She called as she walked back and forth in front of the restaurant. "Henri!?" This didn't make any sense at all, Henri would never do something like this. She didn't just leave by herself and she wouldn't have just left all willy-nilly with a stranger. But she's so nice, how could anyone..."she's so nice." The girl's heart sank as she dropped onto the curb in front of the Italian place.

Henrietta Braun was so nice and so innocent that she'd do anything to help anyone--what if someone took advantage of that?

In any case, there was neither hide nor prehensile hair of the girl Twyla had gone to lunch with and the blond had the sick feeling in her gut that wherever she was or was going she hadn't gone there willingly. Where the hell are you, girl? Twyla stood up and dusted her legs off, intent on returning to the restaurant and getting as much as she could out of Weston before she lost it completely.

((I hope this works ))

Henri had been tackled and then it had all gone dark. She remembered the cat-man making a face that had resembled a snarl. Whatever she was in now seemed to be moving. Panic set in as she realized that she had just been taken by some guy. That really sounded like kidnapping to her. Kidnapped...Oh, dear God. Her breathing sped up and she felt like she may faint. Twyla, please find me. Please find me, please. Please. After a moment of thinking about how her friend may have thought she just left her, the brunette felt her breathing become even more difficult. Maybe no one will come looking for me. They'll think I just took off or something. The girl's stomach felt like it had a case of the butterflies and food poisoning at the same time. I think I'm gonna be sick...

But Twyla knows me well enough to know I wouldn't just leave her...

After a few minutes of disturbing silence, Henrietta managed to squeak out some words. "What...what is this about?" Seriously, what was it about? It's not like the girl had seen anything that someone could be trying to get rid of her for. She hadn't stolen anything, threatened anyone, she had no money, she wasn't part of a rival gang, and she hadn't scuffed anybody's expensive shoes. Henri wasn't sure if the last one was cause for kidnapping, but some people were very serious about their brand name things. What did people need with a girl like Henrietta Braun? The brunette racked her mind trying to figure out what it could be.

The girl felt something that felt like a sob creep up her throat. She tried to swallow it and make it go away, but the tail-end of it was audible. It sounded a bit like a wounded animal whimpering. "I don't know what I did. I..I'm sorry." Henri felt another sob try to escape, but this time she stopped it in time. Part of her wanted to keep apologizing in hopes that they'd just let her go. It didn't seem likely that she would just be freed so simply though. There must've been a reason for all of this, but she didn't know what it was. She had no idea what was going on or why. It kept echoing in her mind, why?

((Hope this works for you, Calley and Lenna. If not, I can change it. Nice post Twyla. ))

((ooc: Very nice, Henri. *wibble hugs, then gets back to kidnapping you*))

The panther man was sitting on the floor in the back of the van, by the double doors. He’d tucked the girl up towards the front, next to their driver and her charming five foot weakening field. Lenna had proceeded to drive off with a maximum of professionalism, taking a road that didn’t lead directly back to Faust Pharmaceuticals. Just in case. So far, there were no signs that any particular New Yorker had spotted their brief scene and taken responsibility for calling the police. They were riding along in comfortable silence, his black tail twitching against the van’s side from the adrenaline build-up, when the girl began to hyperventilate back to the world of the waking. One large, rounded black ear gave a twitch.

There is nothing more awkward than having your kidnapping victim hold back sobs.

>> "What...what is this about?"

He was fairly certain it was a bad idea to talk to said kidnapping victim. Particularly when she was sounding scared and vulnerable, and not much older than Katrina. What was she, fifteen? Sixteen? This, he determined, was why gags had been invented. Gags, and chloroform. He made a note to bring those next time. This part wasn’t as fun as tricking her out of the restaurant. It wasn’t a game of acting and wits anymore: it was just a game of betting when she’d start crying. Or begging for them to let her go.

>> "I don't know what I did. I..I'm sorry."

That didn’t take long.

The panther man was sitting with his arms loosely resting over his knees. He pushed his square glasses higher up his nose with a finger, and turned his head to look out the tinted window. Not to look away from her, mind you: just to watch the traffic. The sunlight came through dimly. The outlines of cars outside were faint. This wasn’t the sort of van people were made to see out of, or into.

“Don’t start screaming,” he advised Henrietta, his voice soft. “If you do, I’d have to stop you.”

That part wouldn’t be cool at all.

It was a roundabout trip, but they got there. The headlights of the Candy Van cut through the darkness of the Faust Pharmaceuticals parking garage as Lenna pulled into a spot. They flicked off. All that was left was the dull lighting from the occasional light on the wall. Lenna pulled off her shades, and slipped a black ski mask over her head. She was dressed in a nondescript black. The garage around her was plain as well. There wouldn't be any need for blindfolding Henrietta. She wouldn't have much to remember.

Lenna stepped out of the candy van, and went to the back. The door swung open. Lenna nodded to Miles, and turned to lead the way. Next stop, the lower levels: Containment cells.

Weston knew nothing. He just said that the 'dude' Henri left with was a guy who looked like a cat and asked her if she would till be wanting her lunch. If Twyla had been a more violent person she would have punched him or hit him over the head with a drink tray or something. She almost did, it certainly crossed her mind. What she did do was cry and flee the premises in search of the police (weren't that hard to spot, actually).

They had her wait in an uncomfortable chair.

She talked with a woman that smelled strongly of some kind of perfume and who kept touching her.

They asked for her information and she gave it.

Twyla was sent back to the Mansion with promises of 'We'll do what we can.' and 'We'll call you as soon as something is found.' Before she left, the perfume lady hugged her.

None of this was comforting. At all. The perfume gave her a headache.

All that kept running through Twyla's mind as she worried was : Who would take Henri?

((OOC: I have no idea if this works--I wanted to keep it open ended so as not to mess anything up. if this doesn't work, let me know.))

It sounded like the cat-man just threatened her. It hadn’t been said in a very scary or angry tone, but it didn’t sound like something she should try to test. Stop me? Stop me how? Henrietta didn’t speak anymore. She had decided that keeping quite was probably the best plan for the moment. Maybe she wouldn’t talk at all anymore or maybe she’d changed her mind and continue to talk. It really depended on her mood. If she had the urge to be difficult, she’d probably get mad and rant. Sometimes when she really got frustrated, Henri would rant without really thinking.

The brunette began to shake a little when she felt the van slow down. The back door swung open and a person stood in black and nodded. Henrietta thought it was a woman by the figure of the person. She couldn’t be sure though. I’ll just think of that person as a her. It’ll be less confusing for me that way. The teen glanced at the man and waited to feel him grab her arm. She knew it was coming. It only made sense and she didn’t expect them to just let her walk around without someone hanging onto her.

Henri was a bit surprised that her eyes weren't being covered. It didn't make much sense to her. What's going on?

((OOC: Lenna and Calley, do you want to continue this thread here or somewhere else? It doesn't really matter to me.))

((ooc: This thread is fine, methinks.))

His quiet threat produced quite the effect, for what it was. Was that smart, or not? If it was him, he’d likely have taken that warning as his cue to start screaming as loud and as long as he could. Then again, he had a long track record of being shown the error of his ways. Henrietta was a very different sort of person than he was. He wondered if that was good. One thing was for sure: if she was more like him, she’d probably be on this side of the kidnapping efforts, not... the shaking, fearful side.

The van came to a stop, and Silent Lenna led the way. The girl looked at him like she was expecting something so, with a properly shameless grin, the panther man lightly offer her his arm. He wouldn’t force her to take it. It seemed like the thing to do, though. When kidnapping young ladies, the panther man saw no need to be anything but a gentleman. If she declined, he’d just walk behind her, in proper shepherding fashion. He hadn’t heard anything from Lori about this girl having super speed: between himself and the Adapted, they should be able to handle any escape attempts.

The nondescript underground parking area lead to a nondescript metal door. If Henrietta was playing nice, the panther man would kindly open the door for her and gesture her inside. If not... well, if the Boss Lady wanted her through that door, then through that door she’d be going, one way or another.

On the other side was a nondescript white hall, leading to a room best described in two words: holding cells. He’d doubted the girl would play nice all the way into one.

For the moment, Henrietta seemed to be obeying Miles' silent orders.

Good girl.

If it had been Lenna in her situation, she'd have fought back, regardless of the odds. She wouldn't have enjoyed the thought of imprisonment, or being forced to do something she didn't care to do. She had a history she suspected Henrietta did not, and likely would never learn of. Lenna would have fought. Henrietta didn't seem likely to. For their purposes, a subservient Henrietta was more valuable than a resistant one. Still... after this was complete, if Henrietta survived the encounter and came to confide in Lenna about her adventures, Lenna would have to redouble the girl's training... the training they'd yet to begin. Yes.

A thing like being kidnapped just isn't very ladylike at all.... Henrietta would have to learn how to repel kidnappers, for future reference.

Lenna stopped in front of the holding cell, reaching into a pocket for the key. The key turned in the door's lock. The cell door swung open. Lenna gestured 'into the cell', and gave Miles room to do his job. Her eyes focused hard on Henrietta, and almost seemed to urge 'Don't fight back'.

Don't fight it. She really didn't want to add 'discipline' to the list of things she'd done to Henrietta. If it could be avoided by taciturn glaring... well, what were friends for?