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No capes. Tsumi moogle '15 Characters © Themselves

She didn't mind getting her hands dirty. Mercifully in the current case it was only a handful of paperwork to deal with the casino. Numbers, takings, a modicum of hidden-camera footage to review.

There was plenty to be done when her boss was out of town. Of course, there was always plenty more to be done when he was in town, as well. Trisha preferred being busy.

Settled behind her sizeable glass desk, one leg neatly crossed over the other, she wrote along the bottom of a report. One of her black ears, sleeked back, to imitate longer hair, twitched. She lifted a sharp golden-brown eye from her paper to regard the figure that had stepped into her office, considering the red and black outfit against the smokey glass wall. Her own design. It brought a smile to her face to see her work in fruition.

'Yes, 330?' The lady lapin asked, tilting her head. The minion in his snug-cut suit snapped a hand above his visor in salute. 'Pardon the intrusion, Ms. Trish. It's time for the show.' the tall minion spoke. Few of the minions in the casino's compound did so unless directly told to. 330, along with a couple others were special figures among their number, hand-chosen by the upper echelon of the company for varying reasons.

Trish's eyes dropped to her computer screen. A wave of her hand before it made the screen light up. 'So it is. Have the car brought around, sugar. I'll only be a few moments longer. Oh, and do change into your street-wear. You cut a dashing figure, but the show is not affiliated with Dominion, 330.' She said with a smile, returning to her work as the minion gave another salute and turned promptly. Her penwork, like so many other aspects of her life; concise; neat; yet perfectly elegant. The bootsteps of the minion faded away before long.

When she followed after him a few minutes later, to step into the inky black limousine, chauferred by the minion, now in a well pressed three-piece suit, she seemed unaware of a pair of eyes focusing with wrapt attention on her form from a small distance out of the compound..

While she was a hard worker beneath Forest, and a sound planner, and tactician for Dominion, (Little though the public knew). Trisha Hunter also busied herself with a smoothly growing fashion empire. Outfits and accessories all her design, were garnering more and more popularity, in modest part due to a helping portion of advertising from several powerful figures. Having family in high places, as well as a boss who rubbed elbows with more affluent sorts certainly helped.

And with winter budding on the horizon, her newest range was soon due for production. Of course, to get some exposure out there would be a wonderful push..

The limo rolled smoothly through the streets, away from the harbour line and through dock areas, towards a large warehouse. It seemed strange of all places to house a fashion show, but looks, like the ebon-furred bunny, were quite deceiving.

It didn't take long to get changed on the trip. Her simple blouse and skirt changed for something a little flashier, a supple, indigo velvet jacket, and a more flattering pair of stilettos to replace her shoes..

When 330 stopped the limo and got out to open her door, she stepped out a considerably different figure. Taking the larger rabbit's hand and letting him help her to her feet, she smiled, running a hand gently through her hair and strolling easily passed several cameras keen to see the hostess of the runway show.

Stepping through the heavily tinted doorway, the cameras and the svelte bunny missed a form darting atop the warehouse roof with a small puff of flame, and a flick of a ropey tail..

The show went off without a hitch. The crowd of fellow fashionistas, and media there giving a tangible air of anticipation. The whole event MC'd by a wolf with a voice, smooth as silk and rich like chocolate. An easy sound-track that set the pace of the models that trailed the walk-way, illuminated by floor-lighting.

Settled among the crowd, Trisha smiled as she watched her works strutting up and down the aisle, worn by several body sizes. Applause was constant, almost akin to rain.

As a more curvacious ferret slunk off stage, the hem of the coat she was wearing, trailing the polished floor, the MC's voice cut in over the music.

'And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first half. We invite you now to a small interlude before the winter range's evening wear begins.' The lights on the stage dimmed a little as several waiters stepped out from behind stage, beginning to wander through the crowds with platters, littered with finely shaped hors d'oeuvres.

'I'm certainly looking forward to this range, Ms. Hunter.' chattered an older vulpine to Trisha, petting her arm. One of the more recent fans to her works. Trisha smiled in her subtle, charming fashion.

'A lot of work has gone into this one. I know you'll look exquisite in it.' she chrrled back, smiling. A soft tap at her shoulder, brought Trish's attention about to her guard, 330 who had appeared to one side of her. Leaning in, he murmured gently in her ear, earning a soft nod. 'If you'll excuse me, sugar, I have to have a word with the outfitter.' 'I certainly hope it's about a raise!' tittered the fox.

Smoothly rising to her feet she vanished down behind the end of the runway, the taller bunny walking easily in her wake. The sounds of the chatter and the music grew quieter, whilst her footsteps grew into sharper focus. The models were in another portion, backstage. They were not the cause of her concern.

It was instead the broken glass that lay over the floor, beneath a high window, deeper into the warehouse.

'And this wasn't here when you first started your patrol?' Trisha asked, lifting her gaze to the window, and around towards the walk-ways above. There were few lights back here, where it was rather more of a storage area.

'No, ma'am.' came 330's rumbling tone. 'Head back to the runway. I know for certain Mr. Tandrof wanted to have a word.' 'Are you certain, ma'am?' the minion rumbled, actually sounding faintly concerned. 'Head back towards the runway, dearheart. I won't be long.' Trisha smiled gently to the taller rabbit, watching as he turned and went to make sure no one else wandered down after her.

Rather no sooner then his footsteps had faded, Trisha's eyes narrowed towards one part of the walkway. 'Quite polite of you not to interupt my show, sugar. Thank you.' she said, raising an eyebrow.

The figure she spoke to, rose from hiding behind a crate, littered with lighting pieces. It was a mouse. Probably just into his twenties, with something of a runner's form. He seemed to have greyish fur, from what she could see sticking out from beneath the suit of white with tell-tale flame motifs in red and gold.

'Don't get me wrong, I simply know what a bad idea making a scene infront of that many influential people would be.' the rodent said, stepping into clearer view on the walkway. 'And you know that this is a private function. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.' the black-furred bunny rested a hand on her hip, tilting her head. The small smile on her face, a warning.

'And that's not happening. Not until I take care of Dominion's second in command.' the mouse leaned a booted foot on the railing, apparently trying to leer down at the rabbit.

'Without your minions here to protect you, and your villainous friends off site, I'll have your pretty face behind bars before the end of your show.' the mouse smirked. It faltered slightly to the smirk growing on Trisha's face.

'Oh dearheart.. You would have done better to try your luck at the casino, when there -were- minions around. Little though that matters now.' Trisha coaxed teasingly, lifting a hand in a beckoning motion. The mouse's smirk firmed into more of a grimace, and with a leap, he vaulted from the walk-way, twisting into a drop-kick. His foot seemed to ignite in fire as he dropped, hitting the floor with enough force to crack the concrete. Trish had already hopped an easy step back, apparently waiting. Perhaps for backup. 'Tell me, sugar. What should I call you? Matchstick-mouse, perhaps?'

'Ignition!' The mouse squeaked as he leaped up, fists clenched, igniting into flame as he struck after her. Though it was a little bit overkill, using powers on someone without, he had a job to do, and he was determined to see it through.

The flames flickered within an inch of Trisha's face. Her head turning aside as she spread her stance, she began to dodge the mouse's strikes with sleek ease. Occasionally lifting a hand, catching the hero's wrist with her own and pushing him aside, her sharp eyes held his determined face, almost staring through him; guaging him, mocking him.

And with an aggravated growl, the mouse switched from one strike to another, putting his whole form into the wide kick. and 'erk!'ing, he found the villainess' arms gripping about his leg, turning, and bodily throwing him across the floor. He yelped as he rolled and tumbled, coming to a stop, lifting his head and blinking as he saw the rabbit shrugging off her jacket, the velvet smoking slightly.

'Tsk. That was my favourite jacket, too.' Trisha murmured, tilting her head, cricking her neck. Ignition's eyes narrowed for her tone, and from a kneeling start, charged the bunny, taking another leaping strike, he barely got the chance to glimpse as she turned about into a reverse round-house, catching him across the torso, and slamming him to the floor in a fluid motion.

Wheezing for the air that was knocked out of him, Ignition gasped as he felt one of his wrists being pinned overhead. He blinked his eyes open, seeing Trisha standing over him. His hand caught in the arch of her stiletto. Kneeling, she pressed a knee to his chest.

'Now sugar, look. I appreciate you hero types, wonderful souls, most of you.' she began, smiling gently and trailing the back of a finger along the mouse's cheek. 'But let me make something perfectly clear to you.'

The mouse tried to roll over, to take a swing at the bunny, now so close. He yelped as his hand was caught, Trish's fingers wrapped about his wrist, and her palm pushing on top of his hand. The flames died out immediately.

'Those minions, sweet as they are, are not there for my protection. Your first greatest mistake was thinking that I ever needed protecting. Your second, was thinking that just because I don't have powers, like my dear Dominion, or Aesc, that I would be an easy target.'

The mouse gave a groan, trying to squirm, and twist, only to gasp as the lapine gave the wrist in her grasp a twist that elicited a sharp whimper.

'Your third, and rather greatest mistake, sugar, other than your eyesore of a costume, was attempting to interupt my show. I suppose the only thing you didn't miscaluclate, is that this is the one place I won't break your neck. A body being found at the site of one of my shows would not do me any favours.'

Leaning back, Trish began to straighten up, before the mouse's booted foot lashed up in her peripheral vision, to try and strike. The flame licked along a portion of her hair, as the rabbit hopped back, swatting the embers out and staring for a moment at the damage.

'Dearheart, you'll really want to invest in a Matchstick moniker, because you are about to get snapped in two.' Ignition rolled to his feet, trying to get up, intent on getting away. Trisha had indeed outclassed him, and the ache in his wrist told him well enough to quit while he was ahead.

But his instinctive strike to get her off him put paid to that notion. She was on him in a heartbeat, with a knee slamming under his chin, making him see stars and flashes of colour in pain. He was barely capable of fighting back, trying to fend the villainess off as her blows, direct, concise, and for once, unrestrained, knocked him about. Her svelte form dodged his blows easily, retaliating with crippling strikes to exposed points.

Back, he staggered, worried she was liable to go back on her word and indeed leave a body in the depths of the warehouse. She grabbed his head, face lined with barely veiled fury, and drew him into a reeling headbutt that dropped the hero like a sack of bricks.

Staring down at his unconscious form, Trisha took a slow breath, exhaling softly and relaxing her face into a small smile. Running a hand through her hair, gently covering over the burned damage, she fetched her jacket, padding back down towards the runway.

330 stood tersely. He'd heard, at least partially, what had happened. 'Bind him up a nd put him in the limo if you would, sugar. And get in contact with Permafrost. He's always had a taste for hot-headed sorts.' 'Yes Ma'am.' nodded the minion, heading down into the depths of the warehouse as Trish retook her seat, resuming her chat with the vixen.

She didn't mind getting her hands dirty, not when it was rewarding, like that.