12758/Infiltrating the Defenders' hideout

Infiltrating the Defenders' hideout
Date of Scene:	11 September 2022
Location:	Luke's Bar
Synopsis:	Colleen approaches Robbie with a mutually beneficial proposal.
Cast of Characters:	Robbie Reyes, Colleen Wing

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Robbie Reyes has posed:
Luke's Bar may not be the happening-ist place in Harlem, but it isn't dead either. And that seems to suit Robbie Reyes just fine. The lanky Mexican-American kid is slouched at a bar stool in his signature leather jacket and tight black jeans, knees shredded beyond hope of repair.

He's got the heels of his boots hooked in the bottom rung of the stool while he takes his time with a bottle of cerveza, and some idle fiddling with his phone. Doesn't look like he's got any sorrows to drown, but mistakes might still be on the table. Because when aren't they, with him?

Colleen Wing has posed:
It's Luke's bar and they're the defenders. Unlike many other superhero teams there's very few of them that actually have a secret identity. Daredevil being the most notable exception. Colleen has been on the news a few times fighting for the city of New York which did wonders for her dojo reopening.

What this all means is, when Colleen enters the bar, she sets down her laptop on the bar top and walks behind to grab a bottle of scotch and a glass for herself. The bartender doesn't stop her. She takes a seat near Robbie and glances over at him.

"Hey," she ventures to him as she opens her laptop, then pours out a glass. "You look familiar." Someone sent around a text message about potential recruits. It was probably Danny but she was a bit busy in Gotham at the time to pay too much attention.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The laptop gets a bit of sideeye, and then the girl. Because who brings their work with them to a place like this?

Recognition follows after a beat; it's the one from tv. Gabe's been talking about her while Robbie pretended to listen. "Hey," he returns after a few seconds, watching her retrieve the bottle of scotch and claim the seat nearby. He glances back at his phone screen, then pushes it aside.

"Do I?" The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly with the most fleeting of smiles. Then her laptop gets a nod. "What's so important it had to follow you here?" His accent's a mix of East LA, and.. something else. Texas, maybe?

Colleen Wing has posed:
The whisky is sipped and she adjusts her posture so she's sitting more face on to Robbie. She then looks back to her laptop and smiles a moment. "Taxes." It's kind of true. Technically not a lie. She's been putting it off for weeks now. Really she wanted to look over all the drone footage Batgirl took for her.

"I'm sure I know you from somewhere..." she repeats and pulls out her phone. A quick flick through her messages and she looks at the picture of the man and the man himself. It's the jacket that matches. "Robbie right?" Not to leave him hanging she offers her hand. "I'm Colleen."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
'Taxes' gets a snort of amusement from the young man, and he takes a swig of his drink before swiping his thumb across his lower lip. Depending on what picture of him she's going by there, he may or may not have a case of skull on fire, of course. Some people certainly know he's a Ghost Rider, but it's not quite common knowledge.

"In the flesh," he replies, twisting around to lean sideways against the bar and face Colleen fully. "Yeah, I know who you are. You got a dojo in town, huh?" He glances down at the offered hand. Then flicks his eyes back up again. Dimples a grin. "You sure about that?"

Colleen Wing has posed:
She looks down at her hand and pulls it back. "I was, but now I'm doubting," she says with a cheeky little smirk right back at him. "So. You're a hot one then," she says with amusement and sips more of the whisky. They're meant to be assessing this guy. Everyone gets a voice in the matter - that's how they work.

She opens up her laptop and sure enough there's the tax application. She minimises it out of the way and brings up a folder of photos. "Hey tell me what you see here."

The photos start next to a building that's on fire. A man in a ninja suit, he's at least in his 40s but most of his face is obscured. He's carrying a bag on his back. The photos follow him leaping down the fire escape and running down an alley way before getting in to a car.

The photos follow the car to the northern docks of Gotham where the car disappears in to a crate. The next time stamp has the car leaving a good three hours later and a shot of the driver is of someone entirely different.

There's also a little Bat symbol in the corner of each photo which strongly suggests the source of the photos is exactly where you'd think they're from.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's watching the girl more than her laptop. Trying to suss her out as much as she is, him. Figure out her deal, kick at her tires. Like one does. The kid himself looks maybe eighteen or so, but appearances can be deceiving. Dark, curly hair that could use a cut; heterochromatic eyes; faded old gang ink not-so-artfully decorating his right wrist and knuckles, and god only knows what else. Half-inch gauges in his ears, and every so often the flash of a tongue piercing, because he's a punk.

Pursing his lips in thought, he leans in for a closer look at the laptop, though, when she asks him the question. After a few seconds, "Guy in a fuckin' ninja suit. Is this a trick question? You workin' for Batman?"

Colleen Wing has posed:
Colleen can't help but chuckle at his response to the photos. She didn't think he'd have a stake in the Hand - but it's surprising how many people they screw over. Hang around the seedy parts of New York long enough and you wind up running in to someone who works for them.

"No. They were sent as a gift. We have common problems and I help out over there sometimes and they help out over here sometimes. She taps a finger to the computer screen, her fingernails cut short - she has no time for looking pretty. She's a martial artist who has to use her craft regularly.

"This is Yoshioka Nobu. He's meant to be dead. But, apparently, he's alive and well. We don't know who he reports to but he's a lieutenant in the Hand. Someone trusted with big operations. Whatever he's up to, he's been keeping to the shadows until I flushed him out. Being dead he was the last person I expected to see... Do you know about the Hand?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Unless he's playing a really impressive game of bullshit, he does not seem to have any stake in what's going on in those pictures. And judging by the rest of him, elaborate subterfuge seems unlikely.

He collects his drink, sips and swallows, still watching Colleen in that guarded and slightly prickly way that he has; like a junkyard dog liable to bite if someone gets too close. "Some gift."

The drink's pushed away again. "Know about them? A little. Why don't you cut to the chase, chica? I got a feeling you want me to help you with your little problem. So spit it out. What's his deal?"

Colleen Wing has posed:
Colleen sits back and takes a long sip of her whisky. She's not even sure he's 21 but this is Luke's bar and no one is going to go around carding people. "Hm," she says as he wants to dig in to the meat of the problem. "There are five heads of the Hand. One is named Gao, another Bakuto, and we know nothing about the other three. Nobu is reporting to one of the unknowns and I intend to find out who."

She points to the cargo container. "And that container came from a ship called the Kotta kaze. That ship is now docked in Brooklyn harbour. I'm going to sneak on and snoop around. The place will likely be guarded by Hand soldiers." She snaps her laptop shut and leans forward a bit. "Do you wanna come with?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
He drinks her in with a pointed sort of scrutiny; all sharp edges, like broken glass. Silence while she thinks about how to respond. And then a slight furrow of his brows when she starts naming names.

Back to the laptop screen, and his tonguetip run along his lower lip while he considers what she's said. "So you want intel on these lieutenants."

He meets her gaze again when she leans in. "As for my help.. depends on the mission. I ain't real good at sneaky, but you need someone to keep the heat off you and make sure there's nothin' left in there with a heartbeat once you've got what you want." He dips his head toward her slightly, and cracks a bright grin. "I'm your guy."

Colleen Wing has posed:
A trial by fire, so to speak. For the Hand or for Reyes she's not quite sure. But she nods her head. "I can work with that. You draw their attention while I sneak in to the state room and see what they're up to. I really want to know who Nobu's boss is but figuring out what Nobu is up to would be a good second place."

"Hey, listen, if you're going to hang out at this bar. Just... don't let Danny hear about what I'm up to okay. He gets a little..." This isn't fair, she's just as bad as he is. "Fanatical about the Hand." But then so does Matt. And Elektra. But Danny? Danny is a special breed of unrestrained.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Trial by fire it is. She can see it written plainly on his features, the anticipation. Like a starving dog with a big juicy steak dangled in front of it.

"Danny who?" he replies. The question's sincere. But the request is conceded to with a shrug of one broad shoulder. "Sure. My lips are sealed." None of his business. "When are you thinking of doing this, anyway? And what's his deal?"

Scratch that. He's decided it *is* his business.

Colleen Wing has posed:
Danny Rand. Rich guy. One of Colleen's absolute closest friends who she will go to battle for in a heart beat. That doesn't mean he doesn't get on her nerves. He has a way about him - mostly the way he goes on and on about the mystical powers of his Kung Fu.

She points to the plaque that says 'Donated by Danny Rand' for the very nice looking tv on the wall. "Rand Industries. You'll meet him sooner or later. He's sort of the unofficial sponsor of the Defenders. Not that we really spend a lot of money. Not like the Avengers." Colleen's laptop is at least 7 years old.

"The ship is set to leave harbour in a weeks time. So, once I've gotten the ships plans back from Japan I'll let you know." And if any of the others find out they'll likely demand they come along too.

"Speaking of which," she takes out her phone again and adds a new contact, "What's your phone number?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
He glances at the plaque. Which, honestly, says enough about the guy. Takes a certain type of person to not only donate a tv, but commission a memorial plaque for said tv, in their name. "Mmm." That's Robbie trying not to open his big mouth and say something he shouldn't, lest they get off on the wrong foot.

His number's rattled off, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't trying to sneak a glance at her phone screen. "If I ain't answering, you can try Canelo's." Auto body shop in Brooklyn. "I work there most days, but boss is pretty flexible." On him taking off abruptly on short notice, presumably. Since the kid's his best mechanic by far.

Colleen Wing has posed:
"Ca..nel..o's," she repeats as she finger types in to the phone. The phone is surprisingly new. Not because she could afford to splash out but because her old one was burned up in the fire that destroyed her dojo. She has put in his name and number and then sends him a text just so he gets her number back.

"Great. Done. I'll let you know when we're good to go - unless I see you here first." As she closes the messaging app he can catch a glimpse of her phone screen. There's only a few apps on there. Nothing out of the ordinary jumps out - you have to hold down the buttons in a special way for the Birds of Prey app to show itself after all.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
His phone chirps at him to let him know he's got an incoming text message, just as he's climbing to his feet. After confirming it's hers, he taps the button to add her as a contact, and shoves the thing in his jeans pocket.

"Sounds good." The cerveza's finished off with one long pull, and he tosses a crumpled bill on the counter to pay for it. "Te veo de nuevo pronto, chica." He winks and prowls for the door, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as he shoulders his way out.