7914/Dugout: Now Hiring.

Dugout: Now Hiring.
Date of Scene:	21 September 2021
Location:	The Dugout - The Narrows
Synopsis:	June Connor is hired to steal a car, by the enigmatic owlman what could possibly go wrong?
Cast of Characters:	Lincoln March, June Connor

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Lincoln March has posed:
     It's the dead of night. Smog hangs heavily in the air. There's a low rumbling and grinding of traffic outside that ebbs and flows throughout the city's forgotten district. It's a place of crime and vice and villainy. A place where one can go to be forgotten by the world completely if they want to or not in some cases.

     The bar is quiet, filled only with the occasional patron drinking their troubles away on a tuesday night or looking for some mook work to be done in the dead of night. Out front another car's been jacked up on cinderblocks stripped for everything it has. They didn't even bother to leave the doors or the windshields behind taking everything that they could from the car in a matter of minutes.

     Inside Knife grumbles about the state of his poor car while the bartender derides him for leaving it unlocked in the first place. It's a typical night nothing too crazy, just a slow typical night.

June Connor has posed:
    June's purple hair is a giveaway if there ever was one. It's surprisingly off-setting for cladestine meetings. It's so attention drawing that no one would expect her to be avoiding attention. So when she gets looks she is usually pegged as a runaway looking for the wrong attention. Which technically isn't wrong, if a few years outdated in information. It's cooler now that the fall has officially arrived, and she is wearing a black denim vest over a T-shirt with Insane Clown Posse's advertisement on the front. Her jeans hug a scrawny pair of hips, shredded down to the converse sneakers on her feet, and she keeps a worn out fanny pack clipped to her and hanging from her left hip.

    She isn't allowed in bars, not technically. But a bar like this? Letting in minors is the least of their infractions. It wasn't ID that she showed to get past the door. She looks around, drawing a couple of looks from the people who are there. She's not a regular, and a place like this doesn't have a lot of new blood on a Tuesday.

Lincoln March has posed:
     Knife looks over his shoulder at the newcomer. Knife is 6 foot tall and covered in prison tattoos. An Italian man with the usual accutrimon about his person including a rather large sized knife at his hip. "New blood." He grumbles out in a thick italian accent as he looks her up and down. "You lost little girl?" He chuckles, kicking back his tall glass of whiskey with a smile of yellowed teeth.

     A few of the other regulars give similar reactions: all eyes on the new blood as she makes her way through. This wasn't the nicest place in the world for people to go, and the clientele were mad and bad folks with a bit too much time for booze on their hands.

     Suddenly a single gloved hand reaches out of the darkness and slams Knife's head down into the bartop. Echoing out a loud BAM into the bar as a lone figure with a featureless white mask steps out of the shadows slowly . Two glowing orange eyes glare out in her direction as the hand lifts knifes head up from the table and slams it down once more for good measure, sending him slumping unconscious on the spot.

     Owlman is 6'6" and built like a brick house. On his chest the symbol appears like the eyes of an owl two large circles and a beak like sigil made of metal. He rolls his neck as he lets go of the back of knifes head allowing his hand to fall back down to his side as the entire bar goes quiet, patrons returning to their own drinks.

     "June Connor i presume?" his voice is low and filled with gravel as he speaks, a light bit of modulation hiding his natural tone as he steps around the unconscious body.

June Connor has posed:
    "I think so, didn't mean to end up in the support group for people afraid of toothbrushes," June answers dryly with a middle finger to join her retort. She squares herself a little, ready to fight. When Owlman's hand comes in to slam Knife's head int the counter, she almost looks a little disappointed. "My hero," she deadpans to her rescuer. She looks up and down the significantly larger figure of her contact. "Guess you're the guy I'm meeting?" she asks. "Owlman?" She glances at the trinket, and the middle finger used for insult turns to point briefly at the medallion. "I'm gonna take that as yes."

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Sorry for ruining your fun" Owlman offers as he steps closer finding a spot at the bar. "But business comes first." He adjusts his glove sliding the dagger back into place beneath his sleeve with one fluid motion as he sets himself down atop a stool.

     "Not the name I had picked out for myself but it seems to have stuck." He narrows eyes down towards her. He looks at her for a long moment. "You have a fire, that's good I need some things burned." He sets down a small manila folder onto the bar and slides it in front of her.

     He speaks up two simple words. "Show's over." Which causes many of the bars patrons to return to what they'd been doing prior. His natural intimidation factor leading the majority to hide in their drinks or behind smart phones. The bar returns to its normal somewhat quiet self between bouts of extreme violence.

June Connor has posed:
    "Fire?" the side of June's mouth quirks upward, green eyes glancing to look at the other patrons who submit to his presence. "So what? Gonna just talk here?" she asks, having no illusions that everyone's ears are still turned on them, even if their eyes have been diverted. Whether it's wise to be unintimidated, June doesn't look scared. Or at least, she puts on a good show if she is feeling cautious. But then again, she doesn't have any reason to be worried. Not yet at least.

Lincoln March has posed:
     Owlman stands up from the bar moving towards a door at the side of the place. He motions for June to follow as he walks saying. "The fire of life and of individuality." He pulls the door handle open showing that it leads to a small booth off to one side not much of a place of comfort but quiet enough for private conversations away from the main brunt of the bars prying ears.

     "Trust me when I say that I don't leave loose ends." His words are rather spoken with an audible smile of reassurance as he moves into the booth setting down at the table.

June Connor has posed:
    June follows to the booth, instinctively giving the new room a once over critically, sitting on the seat sideways so that her back is against the wall, and she casually draws up one leg, her arm resting on the protruding bare knee. She can see the previous door easily by doing this, and while it looks hardly professional, even for this type of business, it is pragmatic.

    "Okay, so since I'm fire of life and all that, and I'm assuming that's not a come on, what's the job? Only rule, I don't off people that have kids counting on them, cuz that's a dick thing to do."

Lincoln March has posed:
     "you travel into screaming meanies territory." He flips open the envelope and inside is a picture of a 1950 chevy bel air. The body has been completely redone into a full on street racer with spinning rims and a low rider package. The front grill of the car has gold lettering that reads Speed Freak. It's got pitch black mirrored windows and a fin on the back to keep it tight against the road.

     "Take this car" He slides the picture to one side, allowing her to get a great look at the bright red and black two tone design and the custom front grill. Underneath the first picture is a second of a local junkyard in gotham. "And crush it."

     "Simple sneak in smash grab and destroy." He lowers himself down into his seat looking across the table. "Easy money." His speech is simple and confident as he looks towards her folding his hands one inside of the other.

June Connor has posed:
    June leans forward. "Shit, that's a nice car. Can I keep it instead? Why the crime against the auto community?" June doesn't have a drivers license, but that doesn't stop her from wanting it. The craving to own it is clear on her face. She's never had a car before, what a great first car that could be!

Lincoln March has posed:
     Owlman chuckles low his voice speaking up again in a slow drawl. "There's always a method to my madness." He pauses for a long moment. "If you don't want the job I can find someone else willing to trash the car, but you had been pitched to me as the right woman for the job."

     He steeples his hands and looks across the table those orange glowing eyes locked down on her for a long moment as he thinks before adding. "Sometimes a message must be sent." He unsteeples his hands to point to the crusher. "This is one of those times."

June Connor has posed:
    "Damn," June says, slightly deflated at the denial of stealing the car. "I mean, yeah, I can do it. Just a pity, y'know? Okay, so how much we talkin'?" she asks, giving another sigh at the work of art she's been told is to be murdered.

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Two grand" Owlman reaches beneath the table and pulls out a small case. He sets it onto the table and opens it up inside there's not paper money that one would expect but instead gold coins. Two thousand dollars worth of gold coins sat inside that tiny case.

     They sparkle in the light of the bars private room catching the light at just the right angle. "You can trade these to any pawn shop in town."

June Connor has posed:
    June arches her brow, weighing the price. It's not an unfair price for something like that. Not if it's as simple as they say. "2? And..." she stops whatever she was going to say as the case is exposed with the gold coins. "Your shitting me," she narrows her eyes as she reaches out to try to take one of the coins to examine it. "Is this the part when I watch you walk out to your pirate ship parked outside?"

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Untraceable, unregulated, widely accepted throughout the criminal underground." Owlman lifts up one of the gold coins in his hand and shows it off, a simple round with a fairly plain design on the surface. It's not the most artistic of coins but it does the job. He looks over towards her for a long moment in silence. "Cash has serial numbers, it can be forged with relative ease using modern technology, Gold rounds?" He looks down at the case. "Much easier to deal in, of course if you'd prefer I can pay you in silver rounds instead."

June Connor has posed:
    "Okay, so..." June flips the coin back and forth, as if testing its weight. She doesn't have a clue how to know if it's real, but she does her best to look like she would know, and tosses it back down into the case. "Gold, so I can...go to a pawn shop." Not a chance in hell she's taking gold to a pawn shop. Surely she can find something better on return than that. "I crush the car, come back, and you give me my dubloons or whatever the fuck these are. If these are fake, I'm gonna kick your ass, you know that, right?" Yeah, as if she could back that up.

Lincoln March has posed:
     "You're more than welcome to try." Owlman offers as he watches the coin haphazardly tossed back into the case. He seals the case back shut bring it beneath the table before causing it to vanish completely from view. A neat trick that.

     "I'd say that you've got the jist of the situation." He motions towards the door. "Best of luck."

June Connor has posed:
    June reaches out for the folder with the details. "Shouldn't be hard. I mean, unless it's guarded by vampire car fanatics or some shit like that. This is Gotham, so I never know what the hell to expect in this crazy ass city."

Lincoln March has posed:
     "Fortunately it's just gangers, some of them are meta but most are just regular humans." Owlman offers as he brings his hands back into view placing them one inside of the other as he looks through the woman across from him sizing her up and trying to figure out just what makes her tick.

June Connor has posed:
    "Okay," June says. While she keeps it business, there is an element to her that she can't change. She is pretty young for this level of criminal involvement. She doesn't even look eighteen, really. Dyed hair, piercings, and the hint of a red tattoo peeking out of her left sleeve all seem designed to make people think of her as older than she is.

    "Okay, well, I'm not gonna fight anybody if there's mutants. Don't wanna end up getting ass fucked by a pissed off gang." She stands up. "But I'll get your message sent. Anything I'm supposed to leave behind so they know who it is?" she asks. "Carve a little owl thingie like that thing on your chest?" she suggests, gesturing inspecifically to it.

Lincoln March has posed:
     "The message should set home without any calling cards left behind." Owlman offers. "People like the screaming meanies are a cowardly and superstitious lot, and the seeds have already been planted in their minds." He speaks with a light smile to his voice the words rolling out thickly laced with honey.

     "I wouldn't recommend a straight up fight with them either, mutants are difficult creatures to deal with, unexpected situations often occur when dealing with their kind."

June Connor has posed:
    "Superstitious?" She smiles. "Okay, I got this." Apparently it gave her an idea. "Okay Captain Morgan," she says, deciding impulsively to give him a pirate name. "I'mma go shit on this car for you."