PERSONAL

Gender: Female

Kit: Physical

Location: Los Angeles, California

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Villain

Team: The Wicked Garden

VITAL STATS

Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: standard (rank 1)

Charisma: standard (rank 1)

RECORD

Infamy Points: 0

Personal Wins: 0

Personal Losses: 1

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0

STATUS

Status: Active

Kate Awesome Is Awesome

The red and blue of sirens flashed in my rear view mirror as I stepped on the clutch and shift into high gear. My foot shifted to the gas as I peeled out and onto the winding mountain road. Tires squealed on worn asphalt. One hand clutched the steering wheel as my knuckles grew white. I had the driver side window down with my other arm hanging out of it as I flipped off the cops behind me.

The old GTO was being pushed to the limit. My eyes scanned the road ahead of me as I would shift down, skidding around the hairpin turns of the California coast line as the cops chasing me did everything they could to keep up. I watched the smoke appear from my tires in the side view mirrors as I felt the power of the muscle car reverberate through my body.

One of the cop cars slowly crept up on my side, tapping me in my rear wheel as I grinded against the guard rail. I held my wheel tight and turned into him as I tried to push him off. The pursuit was becoming intense. I could feel the sweat on my brow grow as I wiped it away.

“These guys need to get off my ass” I muttered to myself as I heard the sound of the helicopter overhead. The helicopter shone its floodlight down on my car as my steering wheel fought against my intentions. Slamming my foot onto the pedal I peeled forward watching the speedometer red line as the cop car on my side slammed hard into the guard railing.

Punching hard for speed as the group of officers swelled in size behind me I kept my eyes forward as I made a sudden turn. I laughed as only a handful of cop cars were able to follow me to a section of rebuilt freeway. Crashing through a sign indicating the freeway was closed I saw the cop cars break hard behind me as I saw the ramping highway in front of me. Pushing my car to max speed I sent the old GTO over a large gap while explosions ricocheted all around me. I landed on the other side as I turned and skid across the ground when I heard someone scream.

“Cut! Cut damn it! Fucking hell! Am I working with the worst cameramen in the business? I step away for a fucking Coke Zero and I come back and see the shot all wrong. Wrong angles, wrong cuts, seriously people we’re not making one of your art house college products. This is a summer tentpole. Amateur hour is over!”

I started to step out of the car as a production assistant ran up to me with a bottle of water. I took a long sip as the director came by. “Lou, you were terrific. We practiced this all week and you get it perfect on the first shot. These fucking kids I’m working are killing me though.”

“Marty, it’s cool, we’ll re do the shot. Besides it was a lot of fun.”

Marty the director smiled as he said “see this is why we always get you. Come on everyone we need to re set up the chase.”

As they went to reset the shot I took a few moments to check under the hood of the GTO as I caught a man in a black suit coming from behind me out of the corner of my eye. He stood beside the car as I finally acknowledged him.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Just admiring the fine piece of machinery you seem to be working on.”

“The GTO? Fucking classic. I mean I grew up a Camaro fan because my dad drove one but there’s just some serious raw power with this machine.”

“So you’ve driven it?”

“From time to time I do.”

“Are you an assistant or some sort of intern? Girlfriend perhaps?”

“What the fuck are you talking about mister?”

“Well I was told to go by the car and I’ll find Lou Milano.”

“Well you’ve found her. Real name’s Lucy but everyone calls me Lou.”

“I… see.”

I laughed “look I know you were expecting some pot bellied guido. That’s my dad, the original Lou Milano. Now can I ask your name?”

The man adjusted his suit as he said “Lawrence. That’s all you get.”

“I see this is going to be one of those talks. Well I guess I need to get this out of the way. This is a closed set so how the hell did you get here Lawrence?”

“My boss is a highly connected individual.”

“I bet. I’m assuming you aren’t from a sponsor because everyone on the circuit knows I ride for my dad and I ride for fun. So no amount of cash and no fancy cars are going to sway me over.”

“Believe me in terms of excitement what I’m offering goes beyond just running around a race track.”

“I can guess what it is but why don’t you tell me.” Leaning on the hood of my car I looked over at Lawrence as he cleared his throat.

“A large exchange of drugs and money is being held just outside Long Beach. The buyers are associates of my boss. The dealers are rats who’ve been swimming up the Baja nipping at our heels. My boss is looking to rip off the dealers after the exchange is done. My boss and the associates get a majority cut however a small percentage is being saved for some brave muscle and a wheelman who’s willing to take the job.”

“You got the muscle, but no wheelman.”

“We’ve been told you’re the best.”

“And what makes you think I am willing to engage in illegal activity?”

Lawrence smiled as he said “are you acting like you’ve never done something like this before?”

My face became serious as I said “I’ve got two conditions. One either you provide me with a vehicle or I get one of my own. I don’t use my babies. Second I don’t get my hands dirty. If things get messy I bolt. When you hire me you hire a driver, not another thug who just so happens to drive the car.”

“Those demands seem reasonable. Here’s my boss’ card. He’ll call you and tell you when to get ready.”

The Vehicle

     Sentient Vehicle: superior (rank 2)

When it comes to scouting a vehicle, be it car, boat, plane, helicopter, I try not to cannibalize certain areas. It sucks when the client doesn’t provide a car but I get why they don’t. It’s the same reason why I don’t drive my own cars for these jobs. You don’t want any clue coming back to you if you get caught. Beverly Hills is an old stomping ground though. There are always nice cars that are owned by some of the stupidest people in the world.

I’ll also admit the fact that I get to liberate these luxury cars is a big reason why I keep coming back here. The poor Maseratis and Betleys owned by old men who drive them as if they are buggies instead of the marvels of European engineering they are sickens me. I come up to Porche Cheyenne as I pull out a few tools of the trade. A plastic paddle I try to wedge open a space on the car as I slip in the long wire to open the lock. When I first started this would be a ten minute process. Now I do it in seconds as I quickly slip in.

I’m first went to check under the visor as I saw the keyless ignition and say to myself “thank god for technology.” The car revs up as I grab a hold of the wheel. I thank god that I happen to find a manual, such a rarity here in America as I keep my eyes fixated in front of me. I peel out of the road as I start to drive through Los Angeles.

Cruising has always been a pre job tradition of mine. I rolled down the windows as I start to turn on the radio. Classical music, an old Chopin piece plays as I close my eyes for a moment and drive on large lengths of open road. I feel the wind in my hair, the music in my ears and the power all around me. Metal, glass, leather and gasoline all merging to become an extension of my very existence as I look out at the Hollywood sign.

“Time to get into character” I say to myself as I turn onto the freeway.

Tool Bag

     Gadgetry: standard (rank 1)

I sat there in the driver seat as I dangled my cigarette out the window. Everything seemed to be taking longer than it should. When I arrived at the pickup spot the guys were late. Even now what I was told was a simple run and grab was slowly becoming a long drawn out heist. Closing my eyes I turned on the radio and let the sound of Daft Punk fill my ears when all of the sudden a gunshot rang out. My eyes opened as I felt the urge to turn and run. My fingers were dancing over the ignition when I saw one of our guys turn a corner. He was carrying two large duffle bags as I heard more gun shots ring out. From his chest the crimson spray of blood confirmed his shooting as his body slumped on the ground.

I didn’t know why I was doing this. I reached into my bag where I usually kept a few handy tools like a tire iron and a socket wrench. Pulling out the tire iron I slipped out of the car and walked up to the dropped body. Dead for certain I went to grab the two duffle bags as I heard someone step up to me. He tried to grab me as I swung hard at his face. After a sickening crunch sent him to the ground I picked up both bags and threw them into the trunk of the car.

Getting back into the driver seat I sped off.

Girl At The Wheel

     Enhanced Reflexes: superior (rank 2)

This wasn’t the hectic car chases you see in the movies. It was a game of cat and mouse as I tried my best to sift in and out of traffic. It was Friday night in LA and I knew where it would and wouldn’t be busy. I kept one eye on the rear view as I saw the procession of suspicious black Escalades tail me as I zipped in and out of cars. I was cursed at, had horns blared as I sped up to get myself between two sedans. My other eye kept a look out on the traffic. To find gaps to sneak into, to check the lights and to see an opportunity to dart off.

Just as a light goes yellow I drive in the middle lane, quickly spinning a left turn that catches the gangsters off guard. Slipping into a two lane road as I take up the median, watching oncoming cars swerve and curse as I see another set of lights in front of me. Just as they turn yellow I quickly turn right then spin left, leaving another pair of Escalades in my dust as one car is now on my tail. I start to speed up as I keep my eyes focused on the traffic in front of me. I weave between cars as the larger car desperately tries to keep up. I start to top out my speed as I ignore the colors of lights running reds as the gangsters keep up. I start to veer to the right, looking like I want to jump on the free way as I see the gangsters following close behind me. All of the sudden I twist left getting back on the main road. I watch as the gangsters are forced to go onto the freeway.

My heart races as I look all around me. No one was around now but I know they’ll find me soon. I’ll need to shake them off.

The Driver

     Combat Planning: superior (rank 2)

Driving along the back roads I am much more cautious. Every large black jeep causes my heart to pound as I poke the hood of my Porsche from out of an alley way. My lights are off and I’m keeping hidden but I can’t help but feel I’m being obvious. I check my GPS and see I am only a few miles from my mark. I turn on my lights as I dart out and turn quickly, only to slip into the vision of one of the group of gangsters. Their black hulk of a car starts bearing down on me as I turn into another alley way trying to lose them.

Stopping for a moment I see my target off into the distance, the red lights of the sign on the Staples Center as I decide to go for it. Slamming my foot down on the gas I peel out, ducking between cars until I find myself outside of game two, second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. I quickly drive into the parking lot as I start to spiral all around. The few cars that followed me are lost in a sea of hockey fans trying to find a parking spot. I drive quickly to the lower levels desperately trying to find somewhere to park as I slip into a spot quickly. Reaching into my bag I pull out an LA Kings jacket and baseball cap. Sliding the key into the driver side visor I step out of my car and walk away slowly.

Slipping away into the crowd of excited hockey fans I pull out my cell phone and text Lawrence. “Pillar F10, grey Porsche Cayenne, keys in the visor, money in the trunk. Get someone down now.” As I start to leave the crowd I realize I did my job. I just hope they can do theirs and pick up the money.