1164/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	27 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, Black Canary, Huntress

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Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Normally "The Black Shuck" is a great little joint, set in the basement of what used to be a Bank of all things. The Bank itself got robbed way too many times, because of course it did what city is this? So now the Bank is a dance studio (Yoga on mondays half price lessons!), and the basement is a great little neighborhood kind of bar. Theres a butcher shop in the back, and thankfully no room for live music. It's dark and arguably moody even, and well the menu here? Legit.

    Zinda is in town because she's in the market for a plane, and the guy lives out here actually. Unfortunately for him, three attempts to ask a Blackhawk out in the middle of a business deal including suggesting some things you shouldn't by way of payment? Yeah, ok how about no?

    As such Zinda's dragged her newest potential recruit down in here with her, where theres cheap beer and a shockingly good rueben. Zinda is of course just finishing up, her story that is not the drinking. The kind of story that'd offend everyone present, had they actually been listening. "And that is why you never trust a Polar bear with a pruning shear, you can never tell really."

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah has been observing most of the evenign with bemusement and a bit of wry commentary, though she was completely with Zinda about lines that should not be laid on a lady and whether fingers or arms should be dislocated in response. "I will...totally keep that in mind." she says with amusement as Zinda finishes her story. She's dressed civvie at the moment, white cotton shorts, thin black belt, royal blue midriff top with black outlining the top and bottom and the straps across her sternum. Also a good-sized grey duffle she has slung over her shoulder...work out clothes, perhaps?

"Soooo...was that the only guy who has the plane you want? I know some Russians, they ship...though that'd be more a stripped down Hind D or something." she says thoughfully. "Nice solid chopper for a small team though."

Huntress has posed:
Helena Bertinelli is just a school teacher, but even teachers need to get away from their normal routine. The polite term for what she's doing would be 'slumming it'. Not that she's too concerned. The brunette walks in towards the end of the story, wearing snug jeans tucked into black riding boots. The jacket may be leather, but it's Italian and embossed with the Ducati logo. Removing a purple helmet, all that long hair spills out and boot heels clunk on the floor as she crosses to the bar.

Helmet on the bar stool beside her, Helena gives a casual toss of her head to check out the bar before ordering a beer. Something nice and discrete.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "No, not the only guy. I know of another one down in Texas, this was just close and convient."Zinda slides that plate of deep fried pickle chips over, if Dinah fancies some. "and no gunships, not yet anyway. Range is the problem, and we don't have the money to buy something big enough to fly a hind across the sea if we need to. Our Jobs are global, and we need to keep a logistically light footprint so we can get to a lot of those places. With how cheap you can pick a Hind up for, we'll buy one in theatre if we need it that bad."Flight jacket, baggy St.Louis Cardinals T-shirt and a neat pleated skirt thats dangerously short. Is Zinda slumming or, honestly she's kind of all over the place. She is at least, recognizable.

    A trio of young fellows file in off the street, before moving towards the bar. Thousand dollar shark skin suits, alligator shoes, diamond encrusted rolexes? It's not too hard to figure out who these vegas rejects are hanging with, they might as well be in brightly colored gang colors. The trio saddle up to the bar for a moment before flagging down the bartender, and then there is a discussion. One that turns that old sod tending bar beet red. Yep, somone is about to start some shit in here.

Black Canary has posed:
Not one to turn down pickle chips, Dinah snags one, popping it in her mouth. "So, need legs and a bit of cargo capacity?" she asks. "Well, Blackhawk could work. And hey! Matches the theme." she says, grinning a bit as she waves down a passing waitress for a refill. "I mean, less likely we'll actually find one armed, but might work."

Her eyes are drawn by the men filing in, her eyes narrowing slightly as she snags another chip, absently nibbling on it this time. "Could use a boat to get it where you need it, maybe. Instead of a plane. Something big enough for a helipad would be good, but maybe pricey. Or broken down and badly in need of repairs." she admits.

Huntress has posed:
    Helena's beer bottle is opened and slid across the bar and she pays in cash, stuffing a few bills in the tip jar as well. She listens more than she looks, knowing a thing or two about the benefits of the *lack* of keeping eye contact sometimes. People think that if you can't see them, you can't hear them.
    She's already at the bar, so the nature of the conversation isn't lost on her. Neither are the bold suits and flashy accessories. She sips the beer slowly, perhaps waiting. Ears perk a bit at the word 'Blackhawk', filing it away for later in case her memory doesn't make the connection.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "No choppers, not for right now anyway. Boats too slow anyway, Tilt rotors yes certainly. Those are expensive though, so for now? We're fixed wing only for strictly budgetary reasons, won't be that way forever but we need to get a couple big fat contracts under our belt before we have much credit."Zinda gives a shrug, but then again she's had time to process this kind of stuff. "So priority is a basic flying truck, and some basic trucks that fit inside it. Then, well I got some shit lined up down south."

    The Bartender backs up with a wince, shaking his head. One of those suits swings his hand aside, which really is what starts it off. That glass goes flying, smashing into the ground and rolling to a stop against Zinda's boot. "Alright, everyone out! Everyone get the fuck out!"

    Another suit unbuttons his jacket, to withdraw a suppressed pistol which he sets on the bartop with a -clunk-. "Alright now, give us the deed or we're going to take this to the next level!"

Black Canary has posed:
There's a wrinkle of the nose at the mention of tilt rotors. "Mmm. Well, they've gotten most of the bugs out of the Ospreys, but they're hard to get hold of. If the Bell Valors were more available, those would be ideal..." she says, getting a faintly dreamy look. "Those third generation birds are beautiful things." She sighs a bit, nodding to the waitress as she returns with her beer, snagging the bottle and taking a drink as she keeps a portion of her attention on the situation developing with the bartender, then goes alert at the swing of the hand.

"...oh dear, are they actually trying to EXTORT this place?" she murmurs, as she looks at Zinda, widening her eyes in mock shock. "But I just got my beer..." she notes, raising it.

Siiiip

Does not look inclined to move at the moment.

Huntress has posed:
    Helena is probably one of the few people in the bar that doesn't immediately *move* when the suit yells and sets his piece down on the bar. Drawing a deep breath, she exhales slowly and quietly. Shit. Helena does the math, figures in the guns (that they probably bought the same place as the suits).

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The good news is that she's actually behind the goons, who haven't really seemed to notice her yet. There's enough commotion with patrons getting up and heading for the door, that when she rises the brunette stays in the background.

A kick from behind blows out one guy's knee and she smashes the half-full bottle across the back of the head tough-guy's skull. Where the bones are soft.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Those -bastards-, that was an eight year old single malt!"Because of course Zinda can tell. She stands, steps past her chair and reaches down to grab it by the back with her left hand. Then, with an oddly fluid motion. She swings that chair up, and hurls it across the bar. It's beautiful, like she'd been secretly moonlighting as a major league chair pitcher or something..right?

    Down the bar, that chair crashes into another hood, narrowly missing Huntress, and thats not enough to knock him out but it's both shocking and baffling. He starts to turn, but well Zinda had entered the fray truly by then.

    Zinda drops a shoulder to catch that chair'd mafioso just above the belt, driving him back before the pair go crashing into a table and go tumbling. "You son of a bitch!"Right hand swinging back, freshly knuckle'd and...yeah theres a fight here ladies. That does leave a straggler of course.

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah mentally gives the chair throw a 8 out of 10, most for accuracy as she finishes her sip, then carefully sets the bottle to the side where it may survive what's about to happen. She looks faintly suprised as the woman at the bar lays into one of the goons near her, wincing at the bottle across the back fo the skull, then turns her attention to the other thug, who's currently gawking in suprise.

    She gets a fierce little grin on her lips as she moves, breaking into a charge, then flipping forward to land on the suprised man's shoulders. The force of the impact carries her over as she twists, landing on her hands and continuing the motion as the unfortunate man goes flying through the air to smash into the wall next to the dart board with a tremendous crash!

    To add insult to injury, a few darts then fall out of the board, tumbling down towards him. At least one lands with a solid 'thunk', drawing a yelp.

Huntress has posed:
    The brained goon with the blown-out knee sinks to the floor in slow motion, like a punctured tire deflating. Yeah, maybe Helena did hit him kinda roughly. The brunette reaches into his suit jacket, plucking the gun out of its holster with casual ease.
    Like the Italian biker knows just where a gun hides in a shoulder holster, or something.
    Rather than holding it properly, however, she grips it by the suppressor and brandishes it like a club. Helena watches as Zinda goes into full brawl mode, perhaps looking for an opening.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    No joke, Zinda's right hook is gold. When she's got that goon by the collar, it's all the more apparent. It hits with enough force to shatter teeth and bounce his head against the floor, because well heavy brass knucks? No joke. She swings again, and again and again and again and it's more than sufficient. Which is why she applies 2-3 more for security. Relieving the asshole of his piece, before rising to her boots. "Well, they had balls once upon a time at least."

    Casually Zinda dumps that mag, locks the slide back and strips the takedown lever in a single smooth motion. Now normally you cant get the slide off with the can on, which is why she just lets the slide fall foreward off it's rails and with a little grunt of effort? She cracks that stamped sheetmetal slide in half and throws the wrecked thing on the floor. "You good honey?"Offering a glance back towards Dinah, but she's pretty sure she knows what the answer is. Huntress gets a smile and a raised eyebrow. "Hey sugar, you wanna head to another joint or somethin? Drinks are on me."

Black Canary has posed:
    With a slow saunter Dinah moves over to the groaning thug on the ground, planting a boot on his chest as he shakily tries to rise. "Nope. Stay down. You might get something more broken otherwise." she says cheerfully, leaning down and relieving him of his pistol as she pops the magazine and works the slide to eject the chambered round, before pushing off from the thug, drawing another grunt from him.

    She wanders back over to the other two women, absently setting the pistol on the bar and tossing the magazine to the bartender. "Police will probably want this." she offers, before looking Helena over thoughfully. "A takedown like that definitely deserves a drink or three." she agrees with Zinda.

Huntress has posed:
    Helena keeps a hold of the pistol she's confiscated, glancing between the three downed goons for a moment. Flipping it lightly, she catches it smoothly by the butt and points it. For a moment it almost looks like she's going to shoot one of them. Or perhaps all of them.
    "Don't you boys know these suppressors are illegal?" She drops out the mag, pumping the slide to clear the chamber as well. Raising the gun high, she crashes it down onto the floor with her full weight. The suppressor bends at the joing with the barrel, and she tosses it onto the floor.
    "I don't think cops come into this place. Ever."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Bartender, if you'd be so inclined? Three old fashioned, and bourbon if you please?"Zinda seems satisfied with that, motioning towards a trio of empty stools down towards one end of the bar. "Well then, nice work back there. I'm Zinda, my friend there is the Lovely Miss anonymous-until-she-decides-otherwise. Nice to see another woman with some moves."Zinda snags a napkin, to half heartidly scrub the blood of her hands. And well, she walks over the unfortunate Helena brained.

    "They always so, brazen about that kind of shit? I mean like, way out in the open? I thought that kind of shit was supposed to be on the down-low, but then again it's been a lot of years since I been around these parts. Back then, them boys were strike breaking on the docks."And a little shrug, as she snags a stool.

Black Canary has posed:
    "There's a special kind of arrogance that never seems to die for guys like that." Dinah says absently, also stepping over the fallen thug without acknowledgement, not breaking stride to head over to one of the empty stools. "They generally don't last long in this town."

    She hops up to perch on the stool, hooking her heels on the sides as she rests an arm comfortably on the bar. "...you can call me Dinah." she decides, after considering Helena for a moment. Hell, it's not THAT unusual a name, after all. "What should we call you?" she offers, giving Helena the out if she wants to give...well, whatever name she wants to give, really.

Huntress has posed:
    Helena picks up her helmet in gloved fingers... yes, she was still wearing the riding gloves... "It's because they're stupid. But it's not their fault; I blame their parents." Moving along with the rest of the 'meeting', she straddles a bar stool and adds. "You can call me by my name: Helena. Pleased to meet you both, given the circumstances. Nice right hook, Zinda."
    Dinah gets a peculiar look, however, before she adds. "Tell me you're not with the circus or anything. Because that's where I last saw moves like that."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Thanks, one of the few good things my old man ever taught me."And well, the drinks arrive! Zinda parses the three out, before getting into her own. "Yeah, back in the day they were at least polite."She gives a little shrug and a smirk as she sips. "but Hans would say, if you can't be anything else at least be consistant. Consistency will always count for something."And a glass lofted for a toast.

    "Anyway, ladies. Towards charm school, and all the things our mothers never taught us?"Zinda gives a nod at that at least.

Black Canary has posed:
    A toothy grin is shot Helena's way. "Not a circus, no." Dinah says simply, taking her glass. "I've picked up some things here and there though." she says cheerfully.

     She doesn't chime in with a comment about parents, however.

    She does lean in towards Zinda, raising her glass to the toast. "To the charming, cultured ladies we've become..." she adds. "And the hearts we've broken along the way!"

Huntress has posed:
    Helena's expression becomes a bit more sober at the mention of mothers, but she raises her glass all the same. "To uncles and militant cousins." she declares, perhaps revealing the source of her own education. Tossing back the drink, she raises her empty glass high to catch the bartender's attention.
    Then she slips a C-note out of her jacket pocket as well. A hundred isn't enough to make the night fade from memory, but it's enough for the bartender to forget about the lovely ladies who wiped the floor with that goons.
    "So what was all that talk about Hinds and Ospreys? You two forming some sort of militia?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Oh ho, the girl's got sharp ears."Zinda sips her drink ever so casually with a soft humm, thoughtful. "I'm Lady Blackhawk Sugar, I've been putting the band back together. So no not a Militia, those guys are nutjobs. We're mercenaries, in the classical sense instead of the dramatic. We'd do it for free, but this stuff isn't cheap. So we take payment, and we save the world."Zinda gives a little shrug at that. "Used to be, Mercenaries were most militaries in some form. Carthage, almost all mercenaries for instance. Only time that the profession got a bad reputation, was when it threatened trans-national corporations."

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah takes a modest drink from her own glass...it's not something you rush, but savor! She leans back against the bar. "The Blackhawks, like from World War II. But a modern version." she adds helpfully. "And not necessarily just military actions, but more unusual missions that can't be done conventionally too. People who need a hand who can't turn to the authorities, for example, but have the funds to reach out to less...official help."

She leans forward to snag a bowl of peanuts as the bartender, not particularly gently, begins dragging the thugs out the front door, sans pistols, then pops one in her mouth. "We were talking about ideas for aircraft we could pick up, mostly."

Huntress has posed:
    Helena nods at the references to Carthage. "Rome lost its heart when she started relying on mercenary armies." she replies. "And I've heard of the Blackhawks. That would make you Zinda *Blake*." Yeah, Helena is a student of history as well. Turning towards the more petite blonde, she adds. "But I don't recall any judo experts on the World War 2 team."
    The bartender brings a refill for Helena and leaves with the hundred after a discrete pass. "So you're recruiting? Is there, like, some sort of greens fee I'd need to pay to get in? You've only seen a little of what I can do."