Owner	Pose
Helena Bertinelli	Starling City. It's not Gotham City. That would probably be a really good tourism slogan, upon reflection, Huntress mused as she stood atop a warehouse in the waterfront district. Perched in the shadows, the Gotham vigilante silently watched the yard below. Large cranes moved to load and unload containters from freighters moored along the dock. Large forklifts continue the dance by moving many those containers to flatbed trucks that will carry the cargo off to points inland and across the continent. Huntress had no interest in the cargo being offloaded as much as she did in finding a particular foreman who she had on good authority knew abut a man she was in town to... see.
Felicity Smoak	Movies make computer geeks look glamourous. How exactly is drinking cup after cup of coffee and relying on teammates to bring in cold take-out any way, shape or form glamourous? It's not. More to the question, why is there only a coffee pot and NOT a full kitchen down in the Arrowcave? It's not as if Felicity can just walk upstairs into the mansion, toss a couple of eggs into the frying pan and wave at Moira as she disappears again downstairs. That's not even taking into consideration that the Queen kitchen probably hasn't EVER been kosherized. EVER. At least the attempt had been made with her apartment. A few years ago. Yet here she is. In front of her bank of monitors, working on her 'pet' project of those black marketeers. Word is that //something// is being moved, but how big and when is still not quite evident, and judging by her expression in the glow of the monitor, is annoying her. She's dressed comfortably, though she has her work clothes laid out on the couch just beyond, blonde hair up in a pony tail. With a push on her glasses, she yells at the screen as she hits a couple of buttons in sequence, "At least tell me if it's bigger than a bread box! Come on..." This, then, is exactly //why// Felicity is watching the wharf. She has a good number of cameras up; some corporate, some well placed by an arrow or three. Sadly, she's not wired for sound. Movement will always tell, however, and movement where there shouldn't be is quickly becoming something of a speciality of Felicity's. Or should we say 'Overwatch'? "Whaaat is this?" is said softly as blue eyes lock on to her monitor. Not sure. Blip in the shadows? Might be an early rising pigeon. Camera angle isn't quite right to actually get a read on it, and she moves camera angles to watch the ships again, the cranes as they offload from ships.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress might care, to some degree, about the contents of certain containers if she knew their manifests but this trip wasn't about spoiling business for bad guys. Oh no. This trip was for personal - very personal - reasons. Another mob figure from a long list of mob figures (mostly now truly deceased) had surfaced after many years eluding notice. It was time for him to be paid a visit. Movement did indeed occur. Seeing a figure emerge from the freight yard's satellite office near the docks, Huntress watched through her binoculars for several seconds. Conviced this was her lead, she rise and began to move. The thing about hidden surveilance cameras is that they're hidden and, unless one happened to be a certain Man of Bats, it was less likely they were going to notice most or all of those well hidden devices. Such is the case for Huntress. Not that she was trying to hide. She was too focused upon her goal. Firing off a grappling bolt, she dropped off the edge of the warehouse roof, letting herself be carried across the open yard toward the foreman. It is likely there are a few very good angles presented for those Arrow-Cams. Dropping to the ground, her cape settling around her, Huntress bounced up and into long powerful strides that closed the distance to the foreman swiftly. He was currently alone so this was perfect time to get what she wanted from him. Moving up behind him, she swiftly wrapped her arms around his neck, putting him into a headlock. "Morning" she murmured quietly. "Relax and you'll live through this." And she tugged him backwards and off balance, pulling him into the shadows behind a silent forklift. "Freddie Ciprio. Foreman, Starling City Docks. In VERY good standing with The Family here. I know who you are and who you really work for. And you are going to tell me where Tony "Chianti" Puglisi is calling home these days. You have five seconds or things will begin to get painful for you."
Felicity Smoak	Felicity reaches for her rapidly cooling cup of coffee, and once again, cameras pick up that movement. First, a glint, then actual movement. Peering at the screen, it doesn't look like Oliver- definitely not. Thea, maybe? Looks about- nope, definitely not. Moves completely differently. The computer queen geek begins to shift the camera angles, going from display to display, the coffee forgotten once more. "Ooooh.. she's got moves," is murmured as she looks for the best camera angle to watch. "And nerve," is added when the hold is placed and the man is pulled off-balance and back. Huh... With a system of keystrokes, Felicity pulls up all the locations of the cameras in the area, homing in on three of them, watching the docks, checking for movement. Blue eyes dart back and forth at her displays before she gives a tight, pleased smile and shuts down the lights on a pole that is just within Helena's circle. It fizzles and goes out, looking all the world as if a light just blew out. It happens all the time, right? "Just don't kill him, okay?" is murmured. "He's my line.." Felicity gets a lot of information from him; the guy is tech-stupid in the best way. He thinks he's smart and so has migrated from paper. Idiot.
Helena Bertinelli	The light was noteworthy enough to earn a side glance as Huntress continued her pleasant conversation withe the foreman. Struggling and laboring to breathe, Freddie rasped, "W..who are you? I don' know nothin' and I wouldn't tell you if I did!" He was brave. Or foolish. Huntress squeezed her arm tigher, "Not the right answer Freddie. But thanks for playing. There is no way you win this, only ways you get out of this stilll walking." And with that, a crossbow appears in her hand, the bolt pressed to his right thigh. "Talk or bleed. I am out of patience."
Felicity Smoak	"Okay, good. I'm here," is murmured. "I know you know.." Felicty is on the edge of her seat, as if getting closer to the screen will put her at the scene. "Who are you?" That comes pretty much the moment the foreman asks, even if she can't hear it. "I like your moves, but I think the crossbow is a little much. Obvious." Though, at second thought, Felicity leans back in her seat, her tones sounding amused, "Of course, so are bows, so who am I kidding?" But then? In the shadows, it looks as if 'Freddie's luck is going to be running out. "Oh.. not the.. okay." She considers a moment before she roooooolls her chair to the third display and starts to bring up celltowers, triangulating for any and all pings coming from the area. It does take her a few moments, and she glances back and forth from the work she's currently doing, her fingers flying over the screens (almost faster than the program can respond!) to the camera on the dock's display. In the next heartbeat, just as Helena is lifting the crossbow to shoot the man in the leg, there is a *ding* (or whatever the tone may be to Helena's phone for an incoming text message). "Please don't kill him. We need him alive. He's an idiot, but a useful one." On the next line? "Overwatch." Felicity leaaaans towards the monitor again, both pleased with her work and hopefull that she actually texted the right phone. Fingers are crossed. If she was wrong, she'd never live it down.
Helena Bertinelli	Freddie struggles "hey hey hey.. you don't gotta be nasty. I already got a bad hip. C'mon.. I can't tell you anything. Just.. be reasonable!" Reasonable. Reasonable was not something Huntress was feeling in the moment. But, just as she pressed the razor tip of her bolt against his thigh so that cut through his jeans and drew a drop of blood, he was saved by the cellphone bell. Huntress frowned. It wasn't Oracle. That wasn't the right notification that her phone had been possessed. The crossbow is holstered and phone taken out. "Well you're almost in luck, Freddie. Someone wants you alive. Someone who is aware of our little conversation here. Either you have powerful friends or some additionally frightening enemies beyond me." Freddie goes still. His skin turns cold as he grews more fearful. "Alrght! Alright! I'll tell yah. Just don't hurt me!" He slumps, "Tony's stayin' in the Cascadian Tower condos. Penthouse. He's a guest of the don.. just.. keep me out of this!" Huntress eases up as she is given the infomation she was after. "See? It wasn't as hard as you wanted to make this. Give my regards to your benefactor." She doesn't use the codename given on the message. She isn't certain who anyone in this city is right now. backing away from the foreman, she fires another grapple and launches into the darkened skies, leaving the scene. This would prove to interesting.