8705/This title contains the word 'headless' because of an inside joke

This title contains the word 'headless' because of an inside joke
Date of Scene:	17 November 2021
Location:	Abandoned Subway
Synopsis:	Bad guys get beaten. Heroes sound each other out. Hints at larger events.
Cast of Characters:	Roland Livingston, Dinah Lance

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Roland Livingston has posed:
It's a dark night in Gotham. It's even darker in the abandoned subway under the city, aside from where some new electric lanterns have been placed strategically to light up the bench Roland Livingston is currently seated upon, a cell phone in his hand. Checking the mobile device briefly, the young Englishman looks up he hears the sound of approaching footsteps. A trio of men is soon revealed by the lantern light, dressed, like Roland himself, a bit too nice to be down here. Those with knowledge of the criminal underworld might recognize the group as a small gang of smugglers specializing in illegally importing antiquities.

As the three get closer to him, Roland rises to his feet and nods his head, "Good to see you gents." His accent is upper class English as all get out. "You've got the item?"

"Yes sir," the one in the middle says, producing a small box from his jacket pocket and approaching to hand it over to Livingston.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah had been tracking these particular three for a while. When she got wind of a meeting in the tunnel, she'd made some arrangements, getting ahead of it by hours and finding a place to hide, places to jump to for cover and misdirection. Even places to bring down the roof should it come to that.

Then she waited. The part of the evening she always hates, that. Waiting.

Finally Roland arrived and started setting himself up for his own wait. This brought Dinah out of her boredom and up to a sharp edge.

The arrival of the three made her practically quiver. She started a stealthy approach, preparing to pounce on...

...there! A small box! That's going to be the target!

From out of the darkness bursts the form of the Black Canary, charging at speed, tumbling under the outstretched hand, kicking the box up into the gloom, ready to catch it on the downward arc as she makes good her vanishing act.

Well, that's the intent. Is this where it goes?

Stay tuned.

Roland Livingston has posed:
Turns out the Black Canary and Roland hadn't been the only people eyeing the prize. There are footsteps approaching from both directions leading down to the subway station. Whoever they are, they're not being particularly subtle.

As the box goes flying Roland moves to make sure that he's the one to get it. He's fast, too, moving to attempt to shoulder check the woman out of the way so he can try to grab the artifact, "Pardon me, but that belongs in a museum."

The people getting closer are soon visible in the light of the lanterns. They produce sawed off shotguns and pistol from inside their coats and the biggest of them starts shouting, "Give us the money and the box and nobody gets hurt!"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"It belongs in an evidence locker!" Canary snarls as she rounds on Livingstone, ready to open a patented can of whoop-a...

Wait, more coming. Armed. Target priorities change.

"I'll deal with you later."

And with that she's off, running the direction people with guns least expect: TOWARD them.

A few seconds' surprise as they assess the unexpected direction things are going. That gets her in range for...

...one pistol goes off, but the bullet whizzes through the air behind her, the shooter's brain still not quite believing that she's running at them and at full speed, so not leading enough...

...left foot down, roll, arms out...

Canary sails through the air now, as a shotgun's pellets fill the space she just left. This one caught on to the running and was stymied instead by life in three dimensions (plus a fourth of time).

Then the Canary is among the cats. Pistol Guy (let's call him Bill) gets a passing fist to the face. Shotgun Guy (let's call him Steve) gets a pair of thighs wrapped around his neck. Usually he might appreciate the view and enjoy himself, but the scissoring of said thighs is choking off his breath and the body weight behind it is taking him to ground.

Canary rolls into the darkness behind the pair, leaving one on the ground concussed and bleeding from striking a stray piece of concrete and another wind-milling backward as he copes with that grey feeling of almost losing consciousness. His pistol falls to the ground.

Two down. OK, one and a half. How many more to go? Dinah takes stock, and, too, takes stock of where Roland is so she can keep her promise.

Roland Livingston has posed:
The box and the woman can wait. The guys with the guns need to be taken care of. As the Canary heads towards one group of guys Roland dashes towards the other set, launching himself through the air in a jump kick.

His foot slams into the first guy's face, sending him sprawling on the ground. The English adventurer lands neatly on the ground, ducks under the next closest guy's attempt to pepper him with buckshot and uses his wicked fast reflexes and superior strength to snatch the shotgun from his hands so he can bash him in the head with it until he goes unconscious.

The trio of smugglers attempt to get the hell out of the way, diving for cover behind support beams. One takes a round through the calf and sprawls out on the ground, shrieking in pain and surprise.

Dinah Lance has posed:
A gunsel behind Roland thinks he has the drop on him. Canary, happening to be looking that way to keep track of Roland for later collection, notices this and swiftly kicks a shard of concrete, striking the guy in the temple.

The pistol goes off and zips past Roland's ear before spanging off of the walls and ricocheting noisily, filling the echoing tunnel with its high-pitched twang. The man goes down like he's been poleaxed, a nasty gash in the side of his head losing arterial blood as head wounds are wont to do.

From behind Dinah, the dazed pistolman snaps too and, being disarmed, chooses instead to try and grab Dinah around the wait, pinning her arms to her side.

"WHO IS THIS BROAD AND WHY IS SH..." The fishnets. The hair. The mask. "HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE BLACK CANARY! KILL HER, BOYS!"

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Thanks for the assist," Roland says to the Canary after realizing he'd nearly been shot. But the woman who just helped him out is now in a spot of trouble herself.

Still holding the shotgun, the young man charges towards the pair, stepping off to the side to barrel strike the bad guy across the bridge of his nose, "No need to kill my new acquaintance here, gentlemen. Not when I'll do worse than send you to the hospital or jail."

A gun is pointed his way and Livingston lashes out by throwing his shotgun into the would be shooter's forehead. His superhuman strength and the weight of the weapon lays the guy out before the Englishman starts moving towards the next couple of robbers.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Thanks," Canary says as she breaks out of the grip of the rapidly-unconscious assailant. "Doesn't change me coming after you for that box."

Gratitude.

What's the world coming to?

For someone without the physical enhancements Roland is demonstrating, Canary is holding her own, relying on not being where people expect her, and then striking them where they don't like being struck. The first goes down with a particularly vicious punch to the throat. That's going to leave a mark. (That "mark" is called "artificial voice box" if he doesn't get medical assistance stat.)

Then she ... plays, it seems like. One of the robbers, fancying himself a martial artist, gets engaged in an exchange of blows. An exchange that Canary turns into a Three Stooges routine as she makes it look like a slap fight from one of their movies, complete with eye pokes, ear boxes, and "woopwoopwoopwoopwoop" sounds.

Before she brutally cold-cocks him with an elbow to the bridge of the nose, sending him to the ground traumatized and unconscious.

"OK, ENOUGH!" she yells as she engages her third. "YOU KNOW WHO I AM! SURRENDER NOW OR THE CEILING COMES DOWN!"

She's bored now.

Roland Livingston has posed:
Roland ducks a punch, side steps a kick and then lashes out with a series of rapid fire strikes that take out a pair of aggressors.

The others pause when they hear Canary's threat and guns clatter to the ground. "Alright, lady, take it easy..." says one of the few still standing as he raises his hands in the air.

The smugglers are working on sneaking away, one of the three limping pretty badly.

Meanwhile, the little box that brought everyone together is laying on the floor, illuminated by one of the lamps.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"If you three," Canary says, pointing without looking at the fleeing smugglers, "take one more step I'll bring down the house just on spite!"

She turns toward the little box and starts walking toward it.

"This is mine. The rest of you aren't moving until the cops show up. Then you and this box all get turned over to the cops."

She crosses her arms and dares anybody to gainsay her.

Roland Livingston has posed:
Roland watches the Black Canary for a few seconds, then shrugs his shoulders, "Why do you want the box so badly?"

The smugglers have sat down on the floor to try get their injured member to stop bleeding. They appear to be successful.

The Englishman looks over at the various gunmen and shakes his head at them. "And how in the world did everyone in town find out about it? There's potential for it to be quite dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"It's evidence in a smuggling case," Canary says simply. "I've got them for smuggling..." Finger jabs at the trio. "...you for receiving stolen goods..." Finger jabs at Roland. "...and the thugs littering the ground here for common assault, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and probably one or two others."

She stoops, then, to pick up the box, tucking it under one arm.

"If it's hazardous content, that adds a few more charges to the mix. Your telling me this makes that easier to push. Thank you for your service."

She looks around at the people in varying states of functionality.

"I've been investigating them," she says pointing to the trio. "They're incompetent at security. If I could hear about this meeting, so could likely a half-dozen other groups. This one is the one that showed up."

The littering bodies are taken in a hand wave, then dismissed.

"Which leaves you. Who are you and why are you ... well, I'll put it bluntly. Why are you siding against your co-conspirators all of a sudden?"

Roland Livingston has posed:
"I was hoping to get the thing out of circulation before the wrong people got their hands on it," Roland says. "I don't think the police are the right folks to get it, especially not in Gotham. It'll be gone from the lockup in a few days in all likelihood."

He studies the various people laid out on the ground. "I'm one of the world's foremost experts on the mystical. I protect items of power, keep them away from those who would use them to harm others." Livingston shrugs his shoulders, "The item in that box has the power to summon a creature born, or rather, created to serve as an assassin. One that even a costumed vigilante might have trouble stopping."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Canary stares at Roland as he talks. Not quite like he's got a third eyeball growing out of the centre of his forehead, but more deep suspicion.
    "So you were going to pay smugglers who stole a dangerous box? To keep it out of circulation. Must be nice to be so independently wealthy you can afford to do things like this just out of the goodness of your heart."

It seems she's being a little suspicious...

"I'm Black Canary. Member of the Justice League. You are?..."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Roland Livingston, at your service," the fellow says to the superhero with a bit of a bow. "Being wealthy is very nice, actually. Usually it finances my operations to retrieve items such as this myself, and to throw lavish parties on my yacht, but when word reached me that this amulet had been retrieved by those fellows I knew I had to hurry to get my hands on it." There's a shrug, "I suppose I could have stolen it from them or informed the Gotham constabulary and bought it from them later on, but then I wouldn't find out how the smugglers obtained the object in the first place. Plus, once the local police have it who knows who will get their hands on it. The evidence locker has a revolving door, after all."

Dinah Lance has posed:
The stare continues, though the expression is now more thoughtful than disbelieving.
    "So you're what, exactly? Just a bored socialite with a thrill addiction?" Mr. Kettle. Mr. Pot would like to discuss relevant coloration issues. "What would drive you to care so much that you'd..." She shrugs. "...well, tangle with me, of all people?"

She looks around at the bodies. "I mean impressive work and all that, but this really isn't a field for dabblers.

A frown, then, at the smugglers desperately trying not to attract attention, then at the other thugs.

"There's more at work here though," she continues, shoving one of the unconscious ones with her foot. "Who are these? How did they get involved? They weren't on my radar."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"My family has been investigating, cataloging and collecting all manner of mystical facts and artifacts for hundreds of years," Roland explains. "We also hunt monsters and rogue sorcerers and the like. Occasionally I do some more common heroism myself, stopping mad scientists and terrorists and bank robbers." Then he lets out a bit of a chuckle, "I've been trained from birth to handle myself in combat. Taking on unholy beasts and magical creatures is typically more of a challenge than a handful of bandits."

He looks over the bad guys and frowns, "I have my suspicions as to who they're working for. I've got an ancestral enemy that likes to put magical artifacts to use. Murdered my family and stole most of our relics not terribly long ago. Occasionally sends assassins or monsters after me, most recently a living gargoyle."

his chin lifts in Black Canary's direction, "Have you ever heard of Gebhard the Undying? Vampire sorcerer? Terribly evil chap, has an army of minions at his disposal. I know at least one of his lieutenants is in New York, wouldn't be a stretch to have someone working for him in Gotham."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Still holding the box tucked under her arm, Canary walks in a little circle as she ponders.

"Alright," she finally decides. "We don't turn the box over. But this means these guys go free because there's no crime committed if the box isn't in evidence."

Her free hand rubs through her hair as she shakes her head. "I hate moral ambiguity. It always makes me feel like I'm doing things wrong."

She looks over the box, turning it this way and that before shrugging and presenting it to Roland. "I guess we put enough fear into them, right?" she chuckles unconvincingly. "They'll be scared straight."

Roland Livingston has posed:
Taking the box from the Canary Roland nods solidly, "I imagine they won't be inclined towards trying this again any time soon." Then he pauses and seems to consider something, "I apologize for adding moral ambiguity to your crime fighting. I'm certain it can't be avoided sometimes, but in this case I like to think your decision is wise. We'll take pictures of each of the gunmen and add them to our dossiers, I suppose, make certain we keep track of their movements. They may lead us to bigger fish, so to speak." A cell phone is produced and the Englishman starts doing exactly what he said he would. "I'd love to stomp more of Gebhard's men, given the chance."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Well then," Canary says, cheering up now that she's committed, "feel free to call on me if you need help stomping them. That I can get behind."

She too, while talking, is taking pictures. With a film camera. Old-timey. Complete with the flash cube. It's pretty obvious that she'll be putting the developed photos in an actual book.

"Maybe after a few joint ops we can share intel. Not a lot of people who aren't batty know as much about Gotham's underworld as I do. And the bats don't play well with others."

Another scan over the miscreants. "Also, nothing says we need to make life convenient for these guys, right?"
    Her hand sprouts a few dozen zip-ties.
    "Let's make it hard for them to get out of here for a while. Keep them off the streets."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"I like the way that you think," Roland tells the woman with a smile as he moves to help her zip tie the criminals. "I'll be certain to try to look you up when it comes time to engage the enemy. You're a hell of a fighter."

The rich kid reaches into his jacket to pull out a metallic business card, which he offers to the Canary. "In case you want to reach me." Then he nods his head, "I'm happy to assist with crime fighting endeavors, even the sort you don't throw money at."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Ooh! Fancy card!" Canary enthuses with a grin, slipping it into her pocket. From out of that same pocket she pulls a messy bundle of business cards, slipping his into it then sorting through it. "OK, no, this is Lenny at the bank... Uh... Doctor Lee... The florist... Undertaker...? Why do I have the business card of an un... Ah, here it is!"

Handing a worn business card over to Roland, she explains, "Call that number there and it will get in touch with me wherever I am as long as I've got a League com unit on. Which I almost always do."

With that she heads off into the darkness, waving over her shoulder.

"See you around, Roly," she calls out from the gloom as darkness swallows her form, the gold of her hair being the last visible sign. "Pleasure beating up people alongside you."

Roland Livingston has posed:
After a glance at the business card Roland calls out, "The pleasure was all mine, Black Canary." There's a big smile on his face as he heads towards the stairs leading out of the gloomy subway, glancing over his shoulder at the gunmen. The smugglers are given his attention next, "Come on, then. I'll get you to the hospital and on the way you can tell me how you got this." He holds up the box in his hand. "Or I could leave you to fend for yourselves. Alone. In the depths of Gotham."