Owner	Pose
Lincoln March	Panessa Studios is a place that's been abandoned for almost 100 years. It shows every one of those years in the downtrodden warehouses and dilapidated structures that span its grounds. Everywhere one looks they can see overgrown greenery and debris covered in a thick layer of snow.      Cars litter the lot little more than long scavenged forgotten husks. Several trams once used for travel about the private studio lot have been lost to the sands of time and overgrown to the point they more resemble small hills then they do proper tramcars. It's a foreboding and dark place filled with all manner of dangerous debris, in the shadows of a rather large water tower from which several letters have fallen off completely only to be reclaimed by the snow.      In the back of the lot there rests a lone studio warehouse the point of interest for this little meeting. Though the world outside may be filled with a low chill the interior of this warehouse on the studio lot is almost pristine. It's still been set up, the sound stage that is, with a full scale model of the city of Gotham seemingly untouched for those almost 100 years.      The lights flicker faintly barely clinging to life as they bestow a dim light upon the massive sound stage representation of Gotham in the 1930's, a Gotham which is long since gone and buried. It's in too good a condition to have just been left here, someone has taken out the time to maintain it, to clean it to care for it, and yet here it stands all the same.
Bane	Bane isn't alone. He would be a fool to come alone to any mysterious invitation, much less one in Gotham at one of its most abandoned locations. Bane is certainly no fool, but he assumes whoever invited him knows that. He wears a heavy coat, ankle length and lined with the pelt of some great animal. His mask obscures his features but plumes of hot breath can be seen coming from him, like the steaming breath of a great dragon. He holds up a fist in signal and the half dozen men he's brouhgt scatter, scouting the area and taking positions to monitor and guard him from a distance. He doesn't need them overhearing any potentially sensitive discussions. They were loyal, yes, but mercenaries are mercenaries. And some of them didn't always have the stomach to do what needed to be done. Bane tried to weed them out, but a gardener's work was never done. "I await you," he says aloud, spreading his arms out wide.
Lincoln March	"And you shan't await long." That voice for a moment almost sounds identical to the dark knight, but somehow different, it's darker a bit more sinister and yet friendly at the same time as it speaks. It booms and echoes throughout the slightly too warm for comfort studio as suddenly from the darkness step out a half dozen men in identical uniforms.      They wear dark brown almost black uniforms, with a bandoleer of knives running the length of their chest a gauntlet covered in crossbow bolts on the left arm and bright silver owl headed gauntlet on the right hand. On their backs rest a pair of arming swords for each of the men. On their faces the visage of an owl beak and all with the eyes replaced by mirrored goggles.      They appear silently from the rafters from the darkness of the shadows, without making a single sound, barely even disturbing the air around them as they make their entrance. They don't even seem to be breathing except for once in a very long moment as they stand stock perfectly still at key positions.      In the center of their group a lone figure drops from the ceiling with the stock super-human landing pose, but he doesn't make a sound as he makes impact direct onto the ground. He's clad in a long flowing cape of silver feathers each one individually intricately designed to appear as natural as a feather plucked off the back of a Gotham Silver Barn Owl but made from pure silver. His cape flows around him as he rises to a stand revealing his suit, a recreation of the human musculature system in pitch black with patches of silver armor plating. His face is hidden behind the featureless mask of the court of owls and his eyes glow a brilliant orange as he looks towards Bane.      Owlman gives a deep and respectful bow throwing one arm under the other as he leans into position before rising up to a full stand. He speaks again and it becomes clear this man is no Batman. "Good evening Bane, I've waited a long time for this moment." He turns his head to a Talon on his left who unfolds out a large table before nodding to the one on his right to bring over the miniature of blackgate and set it on the table while a third begins to lay out manila envelopes for perusal.
Bane	Bane crosses his arms over his chest as he watches this display, the massive man's muscled arms bulging even at rest. He measures all of the Talons surrounding their leader, curiousity guiding his gaze. "Rumor and legend come to life, it seems," he says. "I have only heard of you and your cohort in whispers. An achievement, really, in a city so rife with monsters in the shadows, to remain hidden so well for so long," he says. "I am not as subtle. I am not announced with whispers, but with screams," he says, smiling beneath the mask as he moves forward to take a seat at the table. "I assume you have a proposition to make. That is pleasing. I have come to believe that those of us who deal in fear and violence need to learn to unite our efforts, in the way that so many so-called heroes have."
Lincoln March	"We assure you many of the whispers were downplayed." Owlman is respectful in his choice of words and his mannerisms moving with a grace and subtlety that many might miss in looking at him. Every time he even breathes it's a well calculated risk as he moves to the table lifting the lid off of Blackgate himself and separating it floor by floor onto the table itself.      Surprisingly it seems this Blackgate is not only insanely detailed down to the very bricks themselves in this perfect scale model, but it's not in fact the Blackgate of the 1930's as every other building here is. No instead it is as recent as the renovations several years back, with little guards set to move along tracks when they're wound up. The work of Toyman in assembly no doubt as the clockwork guards move their regular routines.      "We choose our appearances very wisely, and in this case come bearing gifts to speed along the inevitable." He holds his arms out to either side as he begins to move over to the manila folders opening them up to place out photographs and documents on the various personnel that work in Blackgate. Their family members, their histories, their work history. It's so invasive that it may well become troubling, but then again for the Court of Owls it was only scratching the surface.      "What you chose to do with this information we provide is up to you." He pauses for a moment unfurling one of his arms to one side as he steps away from the table a slight bit. "Patrol patterns, camera angles, full history write ups on the guards, and prisoners, a cornucopia of information that would make calculator jealous." He pauses for a moment. "What we recommend you do... is have fun."
Bane	Bane takes the folders, one at a time, examining each of them carefully. Obviously a great deal of work has been put into this presentation and he wants to show his respect by taking the time to consider it carefully. "Intriguing. I have a complicated history with prisons. I believe that's well documented," he says. "Obviously, I will have operatives of my own confirm the authenticity of your intelligence. Not out of distrust, but simply out of due diligence. Always confirm." "However, assuming that all of this information is what it seems, I have to assume that you have an idea of what I would do with such information. Which leads me to wonder what's in it for you. I do not mistake you for a philanthropist."
Lincoln March	Owlman laughs a warm and friendly laugh. It's completely unfitting of his form, of his mannerisms of the fact that he sounds so close to the Bat, and yet there it is. He speaks with a smile under that mask of his warm and friendly. "As well you shouldn't." He pauses for a brief moment allowing his cape to fall back around his form hiding his body almost completely from view. "What we gain, is a little taste of chaos at the most inopportune of times." He starts motioning towards the skies. He adds. "And, the freedom for several associates held within those walls who we wish to come home where they belong."      The clockwork guards continue on their patrols working through with a dedication that their schedule in a supervilain infested world demands.      "We know how well you handled matters when last the court provided opportunity." He speaks in a calm and knowing voice completely in control of the situation as he folds his arms beneath that cape of his. Speaking back to the moment when Gotham was.. displaced... from the rest of the world.
Bane	Bane doesn't particularly care for the implication, that his previous actions were prompted in some way by the Court. Perhaps they were, in same fashion he did not perceive, but Bane isn't one to cede control or authority to anyone, ever. Still, he swallows any indignation he might feel about that, for the moment. Strange bedfellows can lead to full nests, after all. "I, too, have a few of my own bound within those walls. Liberation can be shared fully, although, if you give me any specific details, I'd be happy to make sure your own brethren are given a safe passage out. Sometimes things get so very messy during the chaos, we wouldn't want any collateral damage to ruin our spoils." "I have been craving a demonstration of power to remind Gotham of who I am. This should do nicely."
Lincoln March	"Ask, and ye shall receive in abundance." Owlman waves one hand out from his cape to the side fluttering his cape on the breeze of the HVAC high above. One of the Talons moves forward placing down several more manila folders onto the table. The prisoners held within seemingly have no connection to one another except their birthdates. almost every one is over a hundred years old, but look no older than their mid to late teens, and the fact they're listed as imprisoned in the same 2 month span. Different race, religion and creed, imprisoned for conspiracy, theft, murder, and more. Each one serving multiple consecutive life sentences.      "Again it matters not how you do what you do best, nor even if they are quite fully safely secured, the flock flies with its own."
Bane	Bane understands that not all patterns emerge at first glance and, of course, that any good conspiracy will do its best to elude detection, especially when caught. Organizations like Hydra, of course, do this by having their agents commit suicide in response to capture, but Bane has always found such efforts wasteful and melodramatic. He simply makes sure that his operatives fear him far more than any punishment the state could secure upon them. "Still, it is good to know who your friends are - even if they are new friends," he says. "If this goes well, perhaps we might have cause to do business again another time. I am sure I have a few other allies that would be intrigued ty know the Owls still fly the skies of Gotham City."
Lincoln March	Owlman holds out his hand and inside of it now rests a small eighteenth century coin, minted in the earliest days of Gotham as a settlement. He holds it in open palm the coin having been done in such a way as to hold a pin to attach it to clothing. "Should any time you wear this, the courts assets shall lend you our aid." He pauses. "Even should you be caught you will not remain so for long." He smiles again beneath that mask. "So long as you wear the pin."      "It takes more than a few rogue elements to eliminate the court in its entirety." He chuckles to himself. "What's that saying about cutting off one head?" He asks.
Bane	Bane takes the pin carefully, tucking it away in one of the pockets of his massive coat. "I think someone else may have a trademark on that particular phrase. But they're Nazis, so fuck them," he says frankly. Bane may be a horrible, violent, anarchist brute with a taste for murder, but he's not a monster. He raises a hand and one ofh is own underlings comes forward, face hidden behind a ski mask as he gathers up the documents, perhaps not with the most organized of methods. Bane's minions are far more eclectic and diverse, a reflection of the man's chaotic nature, a contrast to the orderly and disciplined owls. "Still, I think we might put a few heads on spikes. Especially if we find any guards with a habit of abusing their privileges."
Lincoln March	Owlman lets out another deep unsettling chuckle that just doesn't seem natural on him. "We would offer a toast to the notion but unfortunately there are no drinks present." He brings his hand back down to his side as the pin is taken. "We assure you that we hold little if any affiliation with the group."      Owlman watches in silence as the paperwork is collected but motions a finger for the scale replica of Blackgate to be sealed back up and even placed inside a convenient carry case, again hand made for the scale replica. All of this is done by one of the 6 Talons in attendance to this meeting with clockwork precision something he seemingly appreciates about the work done by Toyman.      "Why do you think we provided full psychological profiles my friend?" He speaks again with a smile under that mask. "Should you decide to kill them all that should be your decision and it will be respected."
Bane	Bane cocks his head, "I do not always have so much faith in the work of psychiatrists. Most of them merely project their own inadequacies to try to explain actions they can never truly understand. I have had a few try to say I was insane, as an excuse to attempt to get me into Arkham and sedate me into submission. I do not deny that madness exists, but sometimes I wonder if it isn't a natural adaptation to the insanity of the world itself." He nods, "Still, an understanding of who is most deserving of punishment might be useful. Like the Romans, we may make examples. It has been too long since I crucified a man."
Lincoln March	"I do love a good crucifixion." Owlman offering an I instead of a We for the first time in conversation, his voice sounds almost longing for a different time as he says those words. Motioning for one of his Talons to move to the table.      The Talon collects the table and places it exactly back where it had come from as out from a box another replica of Blackgate is pulled and placed exactly where the more modern replica had been. It seems that The Court has a thing for hiding evidence in plain sight where no one would ever look for it.      "We find that a good psychological profile in conjunction with behavioral history and work history however can paint a better picture even if it is not the most accurate in the world." He smiles again as he adds. "We look forward to the chaos you can bring, Bane, may it suit both our interests, and may you have the time of your life."