14989/There will be no untoward puns about names in this title.

There will be no untoward puns about names in this title.
Date of Scene:	25 April 2023
Location:	The Narrows, Burnley
Synopsis:	Dick recruits a pretty bird to help on a project. This always goes well.
Cast of Characters:	Nightwing, Black Canary

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Nightwing has posed:

The Narrows has no less than five bridges that connect it to Gotham. Four of them are drawbridges that cross the main waterway, while the fifth connects toward Midtown and has more of a reputation for pedestrians crossing and being one of the main stops for the Gotham Marathon. It's a place that is like a Gotham within Gotham as it's small, feisty, with a lot of crime but the people who grow up there have a ton of pride. Something that eventually does well by them as if you can survive the Narrows...

There's another thing about the narrows, however, that most other vigilantes might not be aware of. It's something only a local would have picked up over the years, primarily when one's there and present for the addition of new security systems and monitoring equipment. Some of which he might have had a hand in installing. For Gotham City is a city that is observed almost as much as London, and a good amount of that observation is done by the Bat Family.

Yet it's not without flaws. Or gaps. Or holes in the coverage. Which is why this particular time of night, a handful of minutes past midnight. And under these particular circumstances while the four draw bridges are raised as a particularly robust freighter drifts down the river... it's in this window, with these circumstances that the comms aren't as easily read or observed.

And that's why Nightwing had asked the Black Canary to meet him here.

Crouched on the edge of an old water tower, its interior rusted and its large spout twisted crookedly, the young vigilante has that cultivated gargoyle look to him. Balanced on the balls of his feet, arms resting on his knees, his balance perfect. With that tight armored combat suit he seemed just like one of the shadows. The only hint of color that could be discerned is the slightest hint of illumination around the eyes.

Distantly the horn of that freighter would sound. Enough for him to turn his head, to take a moment and slide fingers along the data display on his wrist. The image comes to life giving just a digital display of the time, a hint of his location, as well as a feed from the GCPD.

Black Canary has posed:
Nightwing's schtick is quiet. Stealth. Ninja-like appearance and disappearance. He's learned well from his mentor.

Canary's ... isn't that. She's loud ... even before the Cry enters the picture. She's brash and bold and in your grille. Or so the image goes, and it's an image she does a lot to further by being loud, brash, bold, and in your grille whenever out in the public eye. Even her not-so-well-disguised fronting of a NuPunk/Metal band is all about loud noise and straightforward contact.

Of course Dick knows better. While not as consummate at stealthy ops as the Bats, she is a good investigator and penetration agent in her own right. Team 7 was proof enough of that. So it comes as no surprise that Canary's first sign of arrival are surprisingly quiet footsteps right near the water tower, suspiciously timed as a courtesy to him: I'm here.

"Dick." The voices breathes out of the darkness like a ghost's. "Just like old times."

She doesn't melt into the darkness. Bare pale flesh and bright blonde hair don't mix well with black. When she rounds the beam, she's clearly visible... up close. Casual observation from afar won't find it so easy to spot her.

"It's gotta be serious if you're calling me. More serious if it's alone and ... here." She knows the value of this site.

Nightwing has posed:

There's the soft thap-thap of his own offering of sound, though his is accompanied by a revelation of silhouette against the night sky. He lands in that partial crouch at the base of the water tower, then gains his feet. The moonlight's enough to catch the side of his face and she can see the slight twist of a smile there beneath the domino mask. He gives a nod, "Canary."

Distantly there's still the sounds of the city, the clang of a buoy, the parkway that circles the city and is just at the edge of the Narrows. But other than those subdued sounds, there's mostly silence between them. Broken by their words as he gives her a nod, "It's good to see you."

For a brief moment he works his lower lip, just slightly chewing on the side of it as he lifts his chin. "Sorry about all... this." He gestures to the side, gauntleted hand motioning to the entirety of whatever this is.

A beat. Then he adds, "I need to ask you a favor."

Black Canary has posed:
"Yeah, I know," Canary says with a grin. "People always like to look at me. It makes them happy."

And there it is. That devil-may-care, lackadaisical mask she wears that hides her as thoroughly as does Nightwing's physical mask. "I use that to my advantage in fights."

She tilts her head and sobers up as he continues.

"You know the deal. Anything. You're on the list."

The list of people she owes.

"Who you need pounded?"

Nightwing has posed:

"It's not so much that," Nightwing says as he walks past her a few steps, then he leans back against one of those heavy industrial air conditioners, though this one is a bit rusty and probably hasn't served its purpose since the seventies. Unless its purpose was to infect people with tetanus.

For a moment his gaze is lowered, eyes distanced though without irises visible in that mask it's hard to tell. He then looks up at her, "Might be a bit short-handed in Gotham for the next month. Think that might be enough time to get things cleaned up. If it's alright, I'd like to ask Oracle to add you to the rotation in the city. Pick up some patrols, help us cover some short-handedness."

The erstwhile trapeze-artist folds his arms over his broad chest, the leather and kevlar giving the faintest of creaks. "It's not glamour work. And I know it'll probably bore you to tears. But it's what we might need."

Black Canary has posed:
"Done."

That quickly. That straightforward.

"And you know I've always loved Gotham. All the best freaks are here." And she's got a point. There's a certain ... flavour ... to Gotham's creeps. A flavour that doesn't seem to pop up anywhere else. "I can patrol, investigate, smash ... whatever you need. I'm not in this for glamour."

Yeah, that he knows well. She's in it for the adrenaline.

"But ... ah ... what's the short-hand about? Talk to me Dick."

Nightwing has posed:

"Yeah..." Nightwing says at first, nodding slightly as she speaks to how much she's always loved Gotham. Then he repeats a few moments later as she agrees to patroling and busting some heads. He lifts his gaze back to look at the blonde bombshell and smiles just a slight twist at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah."

His fingertips lightly tap his bicep, his arms still crossed over his chest. "Just some things are afoot. I'm trying to get some other people to check things out. I might be over-reacting. But you know what he says." The him that looms over everything that he and his do in Gotham.

"You plan for the worst."

He lifts a hand to push fingertips along the bridge of his nose, then looks back up. "Hopefully this is all for nothing. And I'll owe you one."

Black Canary has posed:
"Sometimes you take too many lessons from Him." Same Him. And she manages to capitalize it in speech. "But no skin off my nose. Play the cards close. I know your style. When it's time to do the reveal I'll do the suitable ooh and ah noises from your side. You can count on me."

Canary walks, conversely to Dick, to the edge of the building, looking down to the black street that's completely invisible below to those without enhancements to their vision. Maintenance of infrastructure isn't a Gotham strong point. Turning to face Dick once again, she leans against the crumbling waist-height rim of the roof, flexing a knee to bring a booted foot to the curtain wall. "I'll let Oracle know I'm in town for a while and get a schedule set up. Maybe play a few bars while I'm here. Need inspiration for a couple more songs before the album drops."

Gotham-inspired songs are going to be dark and weird.

"You want me loud or quiet?" She's not talking music.

Nightwing has posed:

The response she sees from him at that moderate chiding about those lessons taken to heart? It's a slight sour smile, short-lived, but there. He gives a nod, however. Not arguing the truth behind her words. Instead he looks toward her as she then declares her intentions.

"Good, I appreciate it, Canary." Nightwing says. It's his turn to push off and step away from the center of the rooftop, moving toward the edge to stand beside her. The cloud cover is low, but not as low as the nights before. One can actually see something of the streets, of the activity, of the heartbeat of the city. He takes up a place beside her and when she asks him that last question...

He can't help but chuckle slightly, silently, but still slightly. Those white eyelets shift to her and he says, "Quiet. For the patrols. Business as usual is what we're trying to present. Even if some might pick up that you're not the usual talent."

Black Canary has posed:
"OK, one quiet screamer coming up. I mean I'm not going to be quiet in a fight, duh, but patrolling I'll do the discreet variant." That means in the shadows, not on the bike displaying full regalia. That means stealth take-downs of bad guys where possible.

Calling Lady Shiva...

"I expect to be kept up on intel on the bad guys at least so I don't go into something bigger than I can handle unawares."

With intel it means she goes in over her head knowing full well in advance. Big difference.

Nightwing has posed:

"We'll get you onto the comms." Nightwing says to her. Then his head turns as the first of the draw bridges slowly begin to lower behind that creeping freighter. Again he works a little at the inside of his cheek, his thoughts shifting away for a brief moment.

Then his eyebrows raise and he turns to her, "It was good to see you again, Canary." He hops onto that small cement wall that circles the rooftop, starting to walk along its edge with that effortless grace she's seen in him. He turns his head to the side as he pauses at the corner, the grapple line sliding from his belt as he attaches it to his wrist.

"Wish it could be under better circumstances." Then he gives a smile, a warmer one than the distracted ones of those few minutes past. He then tells her, "Keep your head on a swivel."

One hand lifts to point at her slightly. Then he does an almost too easy-seeming back flip off the edge of the building, disappearing into the abyss between buildings. Though a moment later the snap-hiss of the line being fired can be heard. For now, however, it leaves her alone upon that building in the heart of Gotham.

Black Canary has posed:
"Show-off!" Canary mutters at Dick's display. She shakes her head, letting her tresses swoop in the air. Yeah, she stands out. "Stealth" is relative.

"Guess I better find a place to stay."

Her own exit, had there not been Dick's display earlier, is itself impressive to any normal person. She too, after all, has immense bodily control, consummate balance, and a seeming complete absence of fear. (Well, she has fear. She just LIKES it.)

Still, after Dick's graceful exit, she comes across about as graceful and subtle as Bizarro. Probably an impression augmented by the little whoop of joy she emits as her speed hits terminal just before her own grapnel fires and saves her from being pavement pancake.

Style, baby. It's all about the style.