This isn't really Renee's beat, she's fairly sure there's a whole government-funded agency for these events. One artifact goes missing and suddenly there's a veritable army of gumshoes, slavering to interview people. Usually they're always several henchmen behind, only arresting that woman in the nick of time before she steals something large. Like the Sphinx. Or maybe the Moon.
Then again, none of those gumshoes would ever venture to Hub City. Probably for the best, all around, except for the part where the Question has to chase down a mysterious woman in red before she vanishes into thin air. "Carmen Sandiego", if that's her real name, is rumoured to be a meta and Renee isn't doubting that at the moment, because she has no idea how someone can steal an entire museum. Sure, it isn't as mystifying as the times where cities vanish off the map and stunned news anchors tell everyone not to be too alarmed, but it's just logistically puzzling.
Which makes her wonder why she's attempting to run after the woman who just stole the museum, as Ms Sandiego over there could probably just make her vanish. Oh. She seems to have chased the thief into a dark alley with a dead-end. Assuming she couldn't steal the alley too.
"I hate to resort to cliches, Ms Sandiego, but there's no escape."
She turns to Renee and smiles, smoothing the imagined wrinkles on her trenchcoat. "Call me Carmen. All the headlines do."
"i'm not going to repeat what I said, the line was only good the first time," Renee responds flatly. It's fantastic that her mask doesn't actually show much of her facial expression, because maskless Renee is pretty much staring at Carmen Sandiego's perfect face. And her absolutely gorgeous red fedora, but then again she'd probably know at least twenty hatmakers all around the globe.
Okay. Maybe there's a slight bit of envy involved (my god, the lining of that trenchcoat, how did she get the hem tailored so well). And Renee's the tiniest bit turned on.
"Oh, yes. Well, there isn't any hope. Perhaps I should just turn myself in now," she grins, and is that a dimple?
"...you know, having no visible eyes doesn't actually remove my ability to detect sarcasm."
"I had hoped to avoid this part," and a length of rope appears in her hand. Three seconds, and Renee's trussed up, except for her legs.
This is a predicament, except her body seems to have two objections to that. They are probably making themselves clear, even through three layers (her bra, her shirt, her trenchcoat). Damn rebels. Getting all aroused just because a devastatingly attractive woman with a husky voice has tied you up.
She squirms in her bonds a little, but it's a perfunctory hero-tied-up-by-villain routine, there isn't really any heart to it. Maybe it's that seductive trenchcoat, swinging around Carmen's legs, allowing parts of the black catsuit to peek through.
"Out of curiosity, why leave my legs untied? That seems a little sloppy." She's not going anywhere, and Carmen probably has a no-kill policy, and she swears that being faceless makes you a bit less restrained with the wisecracks and terrible puns and snarky remarks. It would probably explain a lot about Vic's personality.
"I let you chase me because it seemed like fun. Please don't ruin that impression," Carmen sighs, removing her gloves.
Okay, fun...wait, why? Why would anyone let someone chase them into a dark alley and...how would that ever be fun? Oh.
Right now, she's like Renee's Catwoman. It all fits. The similar outfits, the colour-swapped trenchcoats, the hair length, although maybe the only way this could be more appropriate is if Carmen Sandiego started calling herself the Answer.
Renee's legs might not be tied up, but she isn't prepared to break an arm or at least dislocate both her shoulders over a petty theft (stealing a museum in Hub City would technically be a petty theft, considering that everything worth stealing was already taken). And, well, this is a very interesting opportunity.
"Oh. Clearly what I meant to say was, 'you dastardly villain, what will you do to me now', and then I would probably shake my fist if it wasn't tied up."
"Now you're talking," Carmen says, as she begins to undo Renee's pants. Renee writhes, welcoming the sudden contact as Carmen finishes working her pants down and moves on to her panties. She's practically dripping wet, helpless, the rope acting as a sort of cocoon against her torso.
Her mind drifts and she wonders where her hat went - it got knocked off when Carmen was tying her up, but where could it have vanished to? This thought is promptly derailed by the sensation of Carmen's fingers exploring her, causing her to moan helplessly and attempt to thrust her hips. This attempt at thrusting causes the rope on her torso to shift slightly, making her gasp.
Carmen's eyes gleam. A few motions of her hands, and Renee's torso is mostly free. The ropes are wrapped in a more aesthetically pleasing manner, her breasts framed by two diamond-shaped openings, rope around her neck in place of her tie, rope wrapped around the parts where her thighs meet her hips, framing her crotch and going in her buttcrack from behind.
Her hands are tied behind her back again.
Also, her shirt seems to have mysteriously vanished along with her pants and her underwear, but her trenchcoat has somehow remained on her body, with the ropes underneath. It's open, she's exposed to Carmen, the coat spread beneath her in the slight breeze, the rope providing friction against her aching groin. She rubs her thighs together, the pressure of the rope feeling so good on her clit, only to have Carmen's hands separating them.
She whimpers a little, but that's before Carmen kisses her softly on her masked mouth and then kisses her on a very different part, her tongue lapping up the wetness there, thrusting into her, and it feels so hot that she struggles against the bonds. The pressure created by the struggle is felt as the rope around her breasts tightens, making her nipples protest the lack of stimulation in a very direct way, as they begin to harden.
She's powerless to touch herself, powerless to do anything except spread her thighs wider and thrust her hips a bit, and Carmen obliges by increasing her enthusiasm. The tongue is removed, but then a finger, then two, then a movement that is just amazing and has probably ruined Renee for all other lovers. The movement continues, Renee incapable of saying anything except "yes, oh, yes", accompanied by Carmen's tongue curling around her nipples almost tenderly, and Renee's butt grinds against the rope, she's probably going to have embarrassing ropeburn tomorrow and regret this but right now she can't visualise herself regretting anything about this encounter at all. Carmen's still fully dressed, it's just that she's unzipped her catsuit to show some cleavage, her red trenchcoat draping over Renee, the lining brushing against her as Carmen bends down to pay more attention to neglected areas of her body, so she can kiss them and lave them with her tongue and give them more attention.
All this while doing incredible things to Renee with her fingers.
It's probably good that Carmen has never aimed her sights towards world domination, Renee thinks for a moment, before her orgasm takes her over, arching her back, making her moan and feel every inch of her body tingling with sheer arousal, before releasing her from the momentary tension and allowing her to fall back onto her trenchcoat.
Carmen's licking her fingers before putting her gloves on.
"We should definitely do this again sometime," Carmen says, before snapping her fingers. An exceptionally long rope appears in them and Renee's body feels strangely lighter. She doesn't have much time to contemplate that - another snap, and clothes drop from nowhere. She catches them. They're her pants, underwear and shirt, neatly pressed and folded.
"Don't worry about the museum. Nothing valuable in it, I got the staff out beforehand, and you'll get it back when they catch me. Only a few days left, all in all. I'm pretty sure they'll get my final henchman by tomorrow."
She could let Carmen escape, just this once, Renee thinks while putting on her clothes.
Who's going to complain about her lax work ethic? That agency was clearly lying down on the job.
Or not lying down, as the case might be. They're probably missing out.
A red helicopter appears above them, a rope ladder flung out for Carmen to grab. Renee doesn't even mentally note that the helicopter seems to have appeared from nowhere, the whole encounter has just been so bizarre and hot and bizarrely hot that she doesn't feel the need to nitpick it. She straightens her tie.
But she has one question.
"Where in the world did you learn to do that with two fingers?"
Carmen smiles, grasping the rope ladder. "I learnt it in Russia. You'd be surprised how much free time you have while waiting for detectives to catch up."
About ten rungs up, she pauses, grabs a blue hat from nowhere and tosses it to Renee.
It's Renee's hat, with a folded piece of paper wedged into the band.
Renee unfolds the paper. It's a cryptograph.
"I save the special clues for those I like. Let's make a date of it."
"Maybe next time, you'll tell me your name."