44/The Golden Flamingo

The Golden Flamingo
Date of Scene:	20 February 2020
Location:	Central Business District
Synopsis:	Dinah and Dick team up to bust a human trafficking ring.
Cast of Characters:	Dinah Lance, Dick Grayson

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Dinah Lance has posed:
As much as she hates to admit it, Dinah missed the streets. With the current state of the Justice League something in flux, the blonde crime fighter returned to her roots and started addressing some of the less high-profile cases.

While she has missed the streets, Dinah is starkly reminded why she's mostly kept to Gotham and stayed the hell out of Bludhaven. Gotham may have it's bad areas, but Bludhaven is worse. The low rumble of a motorcycle engine preceeds Black Canary, announcing her presence. She isn't on patrol, not really. She is following a lead she picked up in Gotham that was too good to ignore.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Having taken a side trip last night, Dick needed to shake off the images of destruction and death from Genosha. Gotham had been bad. But it had been recoverable. And it had been natural. What he saw last night had been nothing short of a massacre. A war crime. And he needed to get that off his mind. Having taken some leave time from the police department, he had left his house to get some air.

Which put him in costume as Nightwing, his own motorcycle not as loud and obvious as the Canary's, made more for stealth and speed - but it was no less powerful. His helmet pulled into place, the vigilante has made this city, one that many neglect or avoid, his home. Because it needs help.

He has a lead of a shipment from Gotham that had arrived in Bludhaven and it was worth checking out. So he trails behind the unmarked semi-truck and trailer as it makes it's way along Bludhaven's highway from the docks, degtermined to follow it to it's destination.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Canary's lead? Something as simple as a matchbook from a club. A strip club, from the clever name and the saucy logo. With a Bludhaven address, no less. Pulling up to a stoplight, she reaches into her jacket pocket to look over her single clue. "The Golden Flamingo..." she murmurs, checking the address.

Oh, a more state-of-the art detective would have punched it into his smartphone or GPS. But not Dinah. Her GPS brand name starts with 'Yellow' and ends in 'Pages'. Old school, to the core.

Traffic isn't heavy at this time of night, which is why the sight of a semi-truck on the overpass might seem a bit unusual. The club is just a few blocks away, pretty near to the off-ramp the truck is turning off onto.

Dick Grayson has posed:
The truck itself seems to be angling for the club, judging by the route that it's taking as it approach towards the exit that will lead it to the Skid Row of shady clubs, bars, and adult shops that make up the main drag for Bludhaven. And Nightwing would have been paying attention to that were it not for the blonde on the bike that had just pulled onto the highway to start trailing as well.

"Well I'll be." Dick murmurs to himself as he increases speed and angles to pull his bike along side Canary's, lifting his helmet's visor to take in the sultry blonde he's run into more times than he cares to count, but less than he hopes.

"You know," he offers playfully, though she may realize it's not quite as warm as it would normally be, though the domino mask hides his eyes from her. "...there's an ordanance against riding without protection around here." He glances up, a look towards the truck, then back to her, as the thick wheels of his bike hug the street.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance is just about to put her bike into gear, gloved hand squeezing the clutch, when the obviously-costumed man pulls up beside her. Turning to look him over, perhaps a bit longer than would be considered polite, she offers a coy smile. "You gonna write me a ticket?" she drawls playfully.

Giving a nod towards the truck, she shows him the matchbook and points down the street towards the club in question. "I'm guessing you weren't providing a police escort, and we might even be heading for the same place."

Her head turns, looking for a likely place to hide a couple of bikes. "How about we lose the bikes and come up with a plan? We can talk about local 'ordinances' and 'protection' later."

Dick Grayson has posed:
As the truck makes it's way down the back alley towards the loading dock for the Golden Flamingo, Dick nods towards a small side-alley where all the businesses are closed. And she is drawing a look back in return, after all, it's meant to draw the eye. "Left my ticket book in my other pants." comes his response as he pulls the bike in to secure it, waiting for Dinah to do the same.

"Golden Flamingo. Guy running the joint has some heavy mob ties. Heard he was getting in a shipment tonight that wasn't his lunch time prime rib special." he comments as he glances aside to her. At the talk of later, he gives her a swift smile, agreeable to tabling the idea.

"I showed you mine, you going to show me yours?" he asks coyly, knowing she doesn't come into Bludhaven without good reason. The truck's air brakes hiss as a couple of hired goons make their way to the back of it to open it.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance pushes her bike along and sets it next to Nightwing's own, pocketing the keys. While he's explaining, looks up and down the street... keeping focused mostly on the club. His smile is returned with one of her own.

"I can confirm the heavy mob ties." she begins. "Last night I took this matchbook from a goon who runs hits for the Five Families in Gotham. Still not sure which one, but it could be all of them. He strikes me as the 'equal opportunity' type."

Shrugging, she pockets the matchbook and looks over when the air brakes hiss. "Didn't look like the usual sort of pasta-joint, so I thought I'd take a ride and check it out for myself." Looking over at Nightwing, then, she asks. "Did you have a fortune cookie that mentioned finding help in unlikely places tonight?"

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Depends on the type of help I'm looking for." Nightwing responds with a smirk, before the reason for their visit is made clear. And the tip off. They may have expected drugs or guns, but what is being brought out is worse.

Women. Young woman. Barely huddled in their clothes against the chill, there's five of them, being herded along by the guns of the hired goons, looking scared, and possibly drugged up.

Dinah would sense Nightwing tensing next to her. This is one of those craws that gets beneath his skin. "I count two outside. Bet we got more inside. How do you want to play it?" he asks her. "Besides dirty."

They're going to have to go into the club, obviously.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance's squinting can be seen even through the double-diamond mask, her jaw clenching and lips pursing at the sight of the 'cargo'. No, this isn't *just* a hot-button for him. She keeps to the shadows, but looks ready to move when he starts the tactical conversation.

"How about you get everyone out of the building? I'm gonna tear the whole place down." The petite blonde pauses, then relaxes a little as she flashes him a small smile. "Kidding. At least mostly. But nobody leaves the premises. Dancers. Waitresses. Bartenders. Owners. Customers. And definitely not those girls."

Looking the building over more calmly now, she offers. "I can take the two outside if you want to go in another way. We'll meet inside."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Intercept them out here will bring them all out. Good call on keeping them contained." Dick responds as he pushes himself to his full height. "I'll go in through the top." There's a gesture towards the rooftop skylights as he takes out his grapple gun. "Don't forget to get your hand stamped." It's said dryly, with that undercurrent of they're about to cause utter hell once they get inside.

The pneumatic hiss of the gun fires, pulling Nightwing to the roof top as he jimmies the lock on the skylight and makes his egress within the building. Once he's there, he's reaching into his belt to take out a pair of small smoke pellets, and waits for Canary to make her entrance so that he can make his own assault.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance cocks her hip to one side, letting out an exaggerated groan. "Dammit all. Forgot my ID tonight." The grin returns and she watches Nightwing grapple up to the roof. Adjust the jacket, smooth down the hair, check lipstick in a rearview mirror.

Perfect.

Stepping out of the alleyway, she crosses the street and *saunters* along the sidewalk towards the club entrance with the two bruisers outside. With the heels and the fishnets, she could almost pass for one of the performers. Except for the mask, of course.

"Hi, fellas. I don't suppose it's Ladies' Night? I left my wallet in my other stockings..." Before either one can answer, a high kick clocks one under the chin and puts him out for the count. And the blonde is already turning her head towards the other, anticipating a more physical response.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Perfect she is. "Closed event, girlie!" One of the goons was just about to shoo Dinah along with a promised, "Let me take care of things here, and we can have our own private party." he starts to say, just as Dinah slams into him and he swallows his tongue as he's clocked and spins around. The other goon, seeing this happen, turns to draw his pistol, and manages to get off a single shot before Dinah can close the distance.

In the rafters of the club, Nightwing hears the shot. "Dammit!" he hisses between his teeth as he tosses down the pair of the pellets as they explode on stage, causing a blanket of smoke to start to bloom across the dance stage, reflecting back the laser lights as the throbbing beat of the music provides a narrative for the pair to dance to.

Dropping on the table of the first set of goons in the VIP section, Nightwing's smile is grim. "Sorry, club's closed!" And he drives his foot into the face of the heavy that's flanking the club owner as the goon was trying to draw a weaon.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance is already whirling when the goon draws his gun, but she's shorter than his usual target. And she also dips into a crouch as she turns. The bullet cracks into the brick over her head as she sweeps his feet out from under him. The goon goes down, head hitting the cement a moment before Canary's elbow cracks his temple.

"Goodnight, Gracie." she mutters.

Divesting the goons of pistols and keys, she ejects both clips and slings them across the street. Chambers are emptied and she drops the guns onto their respective owners.

The club is filling with smoke, but Canary trusts Nightwing to do his part and herd folks in her direction. She waits just outside, around the corner from where the door would open if, say, someone were to be leaving in a hurry.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Inside the club, Nightwing has gone to work, turning towards another goon as he drops towards the table and sweeps his leg around to knock away the gun of the other bodyguard goon as the owner pushes his chair back and starts to run for the back entrance, pushing half-dressed women out of the way. Most assuredly all of them are being forced to work there.

The owner comes busting out of the backdoor, just in time to see his two men back there on the ground, and he reaches to grab one of their guns, not realizing it's empty. "Fucking bats!" he roars. "Where's my merchandise!" he yells, turning to point the gun at Nightwing, knowing he's going to have him at point blank range when the vigilante bursts through the door.

And completely unaware of the bird of prey waiting in the shadows.

Dinah Lance has posed:
That's just the opportunity Canary was waiting for. She knows the gun is empty, of course, but it's a distraction she can use to her advantage. Let him think it's still useful.

She may not look like much, but the Dinah knows how to throw a punch. The blonde hits him hard. From behind. In the kidney. It would have probably had less effect if she clocked him with a baseball bat.

The owner's knees buckle and he goes down hard. As his gaze turns upward, a booted foot attached to a fishnet-clad leg presses firmly upon his windpipe. "Your *merchandise*?" the blonde hisses. "Go ahead. Give me a reason."

Dick Grayson has posed:
The owner crumples beneath the punch, gasping and coughing, just as Dinah completes the move, pinning the man against the concrete, boot on his throat as he wheezes. "Bitch... when I get free..." he struggles, grabbing at the sides of the woman's boot as she applies pressure.

"Canary!" a voice calls from inside. It's Nightwing. "I don't want to try to blow down this door, going to need a delicate touch!" It's a large metal door, like one used for a safe. And it's been pressure sealed.

If she joins him, he'll explain. "Voice lock, I have good mimicry... but I know I have an expert here." he says, looking aside to the young woman and giving her a quick smile.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Be right there, Nightwing!" she calls back. The woman releases the pressure of her boot, allowing the owner to breathe as he grabs frantically at her foot. Reaching down, she takes a hand to help him up while cocking back her other fist.

Canary puts most of her weight into the punch, knocking out the owner and probably breaking a few bones in his face. Someone won't have a very nice mug shot.

Trotting inside, she joins Nightwing and looks the door over. "Aw, you just wanted to hear me sing." she replies. "Got a good set of earplugs? Oh, and you'll want to stand back a bit." Considering for a moment, she adds. "And do you have Bludhaven PD on speed dial or something? They're gonna need to bring a wagon for this one."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Just waiting to make sure we can be good and gone from here before dialing them up." Dick responds. The owner is going to be all over the front page tomorrow, but for now, there's other work to be done as she approaches the door, and reaches up to tap the side of his mask. "Scream your heart out, Canary." he offers to her. He probably had a flirty comment in there somplace, but for now, the situation demands more soberity.

Flirting is always a later option, though, as he presses his fingers gently to to his ears to drown out her scream.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah Lance faces the door, taking a braced stance with hands on her hips. Deep breath, eyes closed for a moment. Focus.

"ssskkkreeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

A few moments go by. Nothing. Stress cracks form all over the door's metal surface. The cracks widen, then fracture. Canary stops singing a moment before the metal shards *explode* outward. Arms cross and she throws them up to protect her face as she drops into a crouch.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing watches her at work, the way that the door caves and breaks. If he were the Bat, he'd probably be recording it all to analyze later. He probably is, to be honest. The door creaks and cracks, the metal bending and giving way before the door shatters. Moving to protect Canary from the shards, Nightwing's armor is made more for that. Not that he didn't exactly mean to get cozy with her.

Pulling back, he draws in his breath as he turns his attention to the interior of the room. Huddled in the corner are the women that were brought in earlier. They're terrified, scared, muttering in a foreign language. Nightwing pauses, pulling back from Canary and closer to the women. He responds in the same language, and after a few moments, he looks to Canary. "They're from the Phillipines. They were told that they were coming here to be school teachers, and instead..." he gestures around.

"Now do you want me call the police?" he asks with an arch brow.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Canary rises smoothly, and apparently isn't shy about getting close, either. Not that such things are foremost on her mind. She looks the ladies over, gaze shifting from one to the each of the others. "I should've punched him harder..." she mutters. Blinking, then, she nods.

"Go ahead and call. Just make sure that the Bludhaven PD does right by these ladies, Nightwing. And I can't emphasize that enough." Reaching into her jacket, Canary pulls out a fist-full of zipties. "This won't take me long. I'm gonna round up the usual suspects." And with that, she heads back into the club.

Dick Grayson has posed:
As soon as Canary steps away, Dick moves away from the women and into the hallway. Reaching up to tap the side of his mask, he waits for the connection to be made. It's a direct line to the police department. "This is Detective Grayson, we have a 10-35 down at the Golden Flamingo. Send back up and a bus to this location. Also, contact the Wayne Foundation, make sure that the Martha Wayne shelter has room for five." he rumbles. Once that's done, he turns his attention to the women, and offers. "<<Help is on the way, please come with me to the front of the club.>>"

Though he's looking for Canary. "They'll be here shortly, we can watch from the alley then be on our way."