Take her to Cleo Capone

The blonde smirks, adjusts Velvet Vixen’s cape like she's packaging a glamorous birthday present, and nods toward the warehouse door.

“Let’s go show the boss what the glitter fairy left us.”

With Delilah gripping her arms behind her back, and the blonde walking ahead with an amused sway, Kendrick finds herself escorted through a heavy steel door and into the heart of the villainess’ lair.

It’s not what she expected.

Warehouse 27 opens into a swanky, dimly lit speakeasy-style interior complete with red velvet furniture, glimmering chandeliers, and a jazz record spinning softly from a nearby turntable. Gold filigree and art deco glamor line every surface. It’s the kind of hideout you’d expect from a woman named Cleo Capone.

At the center of it all stands Cleo herself—tall, poised, and devastatingly beautiful in her signature pinstriped suit that hugs every curve like it was tailored by sin itself. A single red rose rests behind one ear, her lips a matching crimson.

She’s standing at a long oak table alongside another henchgirl in suspenders and high heels, going over a series of blueprints and maps covered in notes and scribbles. Whatever the next phase of her plan is, it’s clearly intricate.

That is, until…

“Mmmf! L-Let go of me!”

The whole room turns toward the sound of Kendrick’s high-pitched struggle.

Cleo arches a single dark brow as Velvet Vixen is dragged into view, her boots scraping the polished floor, her mask slightly askew from the scuffle. The other henchgirl snorts in amusement.

Delilah grins.

“Boss, look what we found flouncing around outside. Says her name’s... the Velvet Vixen.”

“Wanted to stop your evil plans, she did,” the blonde adds, mockingly puffing out her chest and mimicking Kendrick’s earlier pose. “Very heroic.”

Cleo circles the bound heroine like a cat circling a trembling mouse. Her heels click with slow, deliberate precision. Kendrick squirms under her scrutiny, the weight of Cleo’s gaze pressing down on her like a spotlight.

“Mmmph—!”

Cleo tilts Kendrick’s chin up with a finger gloved in black silk and leans in close—too close.

“So... this is Westville’s answer to my rise?” she purrs. “Sequins and nerves, wrapped in rope. I must say...”

She grins.

“I’m delighted.”

Kendrick’s face burns as Cleo slowly walks around her, every step dragging out the tension.

“A gift like this deserves thoughtful handling,” Cleo says aloud, turning to her crew. “So the question is…”

She eyes Kendrick once more, lips curled in wicked amusement.

“What shall we do with our little vigilante debutante?”