1634/Log

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Log
Date of Scene: 25 July 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Black Canary, Lady Blackhawk




Black Canary has posed:
    It's a slightly rainy day outside, a bit overcast in Gotham...but then, when isn't it? A few late night shoppers are jogging past, huddled under umbrellas as they rush off to catch the last bus or make it to the subway, depending how far they have to go.

    Yet Sherwood Florist is still open, having not quite got around to closing yet. Sometimes the hours can vary, like today, when Dinah has left the lights on and the door unlocked while she works on some last minute arrangements.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Theres a ring at the door, and some soft chatter in what is that..Russian? Anyway the Woman is a regular Polina something or other, easy to remember that distinctly non-american name and the accent. She's probably in her seventies, and well she doesn't seem to speak much English but she can name the flowers she's interested in by their latin names without blinking. She pauses, folding her umbrella before stepping aside to let her husband in behind her. Anywho she offers a broad distinctly grandmotherly smile, before offering a little wave. "Dobri Vecher madam, is still open yes?"

    The husband is, well never been around the shop before. An older rail of a man, thick cokebottle glasses, a sturdy cane and well the gentleman is impeccably dressed in a lovely tweed affair. "Ona ne govorit po-russki." or so he chides, and the pair share a look before he clears his throat. Offering, well Russian or German or some god damned kind of accented english. "Excuse me Miss, are you still open? I'm afraid the ballet ran a bit late, my wife needs a few flowers if it's no inconvience?"

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah looks up as the door chimes and smiles a bit. She's in a comfortable looking blouse and jeans today, the sleeves rolled up to her upper arms, though she still wears her usual boots. She finds them comfy. "Sure, we're still open..." she says, waving them in. "I wasn't planning on closing for a little bit yet. What were you looking for today?" she says, walking over to them.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Polina lightly touches her husband's elbow, before stepping foreward and well it's the kind of thing a florist would understand. It's a neat little selection of particularly aromatic flowers, blues and whites it seems is the theme. The kind of thing you put in a stuffy house, or well people used to back in the day. Her pronounciation of latin is as always, neat and tidy. She lifts a hand to carefully untie that clear plastic rain bonnet all old women seem to be issued with these days. Tugging the thing aside, and well for a moment one of the straps seems caught. Stuck on something just beside her left eye, before with a careful sweep of the hand she clears the tangle.

    The husband is, well like a lot of Husbands. Peering about the flowers without any real direction, just sort of along for the ride. The tangle catches his attention, and a hand rises as if to render aid before Polina solves the problem herself. "Thankyou by the way, my wife is always thrilled to come down here and pick something to brighten up the apartment. Reminds her of the old country, she was something of a florist in her youth."

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah listens patiently with a faint smile, then nods. 'Not a problem, I have those..." she says cheerfully, though her eyes are drawn to the hood catching. Mostly because she doesn't see what there would be to catch ON....she isn't wearing some sort of hair pin or such she can see, and she doesn't think her hair is quite that styled. It's more a casual look than anything else, something she's turning over in her head absently as she heads over to start collecting the blooms in question to put in a wrapper to take home.

    "Oh, it's my pleasure. She's one of my best customers, and unlike most people she always knows just what she wants." She glances over at the husband. "I can appreciate someone who already knows how to prepare their arrangements, she's even inspired me now and again for ideas of my own to sell."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    She offers a bright smile, before glancing back to her husband for the translation that follows in softly spoken Russian. "So kind, so kind Madam."And a pause, before turning to trade more russian still with her husband. Then theres a hushed silence, and a few more sharp words exchanged before she frowns. Arms crossing as she proceeds to give the old man "The look", and Polina has it down.

    "Excuse me miss, this may sound strange but my wife.."The husband pauses, swollowing dryly as he glances back between Dinah and Polina for a moment. "Did you come across somone, unusual recently? Somone with an unusual, device? Something you came into posession of perhaps, a pin or bolt or..something of the linke?"

Black Canary has posed:
    Her hands slow on selecting the flowers, as she turns, her brow furrowing a bit as she flicks her eyes between the two. "Yes." she says slowly. "I did find something like that...a nail." She's a little more wary now, mostly because she's not sure how they would know that. Unless they have a connection to that...thing?

    She moves over behind the counter, where the wrappers for the flowers are, along with a selection of ribbons and small vases. "Why do you ask?" she says, once she's got the counter between her and them. "Do you ...know something about that sort of thing?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    The husband, clears his throat before stepping closer to offer his hand. "I'm sorry to spring this on you suddenly, I'm also being terribly rude I know. My name is Herbert Sauer, this is my wife Polina Sauer who you obviously know. I am quite familar with those kind of devices, I'm afraid their use was quite widespread once upon a time."He lifts his hat free, before lifting a hand to his temple and grabbing onto something. Then gently he begins pulling, and it fades into view slowly. Forming from thin air visually atleast, it's a pin. It's slender and delicate, made of a charcoal black material not entirely unlike the iron nail itself just..less grey.

    He doesn't pull the thing all the way out, just enough so it can be seen. Then delicately he presses it back into place, letting it fade from view. "Luckily the local emitter was damaged in 86', and we were able to slip across the border into Austria. I thought we had accounted for all the caged, Do you know the name of the person it came from? We have a few old colleages still missing from the program."

Black Canary has posed:
    Well, that's...different. Dinah tilts her head a bit, slowing as she rests her hands on the counter. "It's a receiver..." she says softly. "The ones I ran into, there were two. One looked like a doll, the other looked like a big luchadore guy. After the nails were out, anyway. There was this...spider thing.' she says, frowning. "...what are those things? Who made them, and is using them like this? The way you're talking, these were an old project?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "A lucha, like a Mexican wrestler?"Herb seems momentarily confused, chattering back with Polina for a moment. "Oh yes it's made from "product T-U", a material harvested from the Tunguska event. They were used on and off in the soviet union, way to control anyone who had unusual talents. Scientists, powered peoples who could be a threat to the state? They would be, pinned as it were. From there they used a specific frequency of infrasound, it caused the material to produce a weak electrical discharge. The result was a loss of self will, loss of empathy and an emotional torpor. You were extremely suggestable in such a state, and were able to be commanded to act. Everyone at Vector had them, most of the scientists at the bioprepetat too."

    He pauses, exchanging more russian with Polina for a moment. "May, may we see the nail you have? Most of them have a serial number, we have friends we had to leave behind. Knowing who died would, answer some questions certainly."

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah mmms, turing that over in her thoughs as she digests the explantion. "...hold on." She steps into the back room, climbing the stairs up, then coming back down a minute later with the nail as she lifts it up, squinting at it to try and read the number in question. "This seemed a lot more than just torpor...more like puppetry, honestly. Metahuman abilities on top of everything else...this came from Tunguska, huh? Figured, that it didn't really burn up in the air like was reported." She'll read off the numbers to the gentleman, then lower her hand, flicking the nail around her fingers absently. "When we pulled it out, they dropped like stones. I'm not sure why they were even there exactly, except maybe as part of a trap for us...."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "This is new."He mumbles, leaning in to peer at the thing. "It's, derivative. This is a copy, see how large the shaft is? Different material too, diluted perhaps. Those markings are, English as well. Maybe from the CIA pin program?"He shrugs, glancing back to prattle at Polina for a moment. Then casually he reaches inside of his jacket to fiddle with a notebook, before he sets off scribbling. "This is, not a Soviet Pin. I'm unclear where it came from, but I know the man who ran the US pin program. He's over in New York, retired now."
    George Fisher, address and phone number. Right off the top of Herbert's head. "He's quite approachable, the US program was as I understand far less horrific. They were looking for someway to reform criminals or something, it's rather unclear. Anyway you should take that to him, he'd know what to do."

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah frowns at that, tucking the nail away in a pocket, then taking the piece of paper. "Hmm. Thank you Mr. Sauer, I'll do that..." she says thoughfully. "You said the emitter burned out, do you know how that happened? Age, or was there something that damaged it? If I run into others with these...would be nice to be able to diable them without hurting the people they're in." Of course, that might not be possible, considering they were stuck in the head, and a nail does a heck of a lot more damage than a pin. "Do you want me to keep you informed, I'm guessing?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Oh no need to keep me informed."He shrugs casually, muttering back at his wife again in russian for a moment. "Somone turned off the emitter, we don't know who. We expect it's one of the missing, but well it doesn't matter. Anyway, talk to George. Tell him Herbet Sauer and Polina sent you, he'll want to talk to you I'm certain of it. He might know more about the nails than we do, I haven't seen this sort before."Frowning somewhat at that. "Just remember, the material is such that people with the nail will feel the presence of another nearby. Like magnets, drawn together. Be careful where you store that, alright?"

Black Canary has posed:
    Dinah tugs the nail out again as she looks it over. "Hmm. Noted." she says thoughfully, before wrapping the flowers up. "Free of charge today. Enjoy, and thank you, both of you. This is a big help to know." And after they head home, she will close up the shop. But this time, she'll go suit up...

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    The couple collect their flowers and they set out, pausing just outside as the pair peer at each other for a long moment. "Upakovat veshchi suki, da?" With that the pair trudge home together without another word spoken.

    George Fisher's address is an ancient brownstone, and well the neighborhood looks a little rundown. His place at least is neatly painted and cleaned, with a large american flag flying outside. Inside, George is hard at work doing what George does these days. Carefully working with knife and tweezer, shaving fuzz from slivers of balsa. Constructing improbably tiny, detailed sailing ships from scratch but of course. He's got the Rolling stones turned up on the radio, and a pot of stew going in the kitchen but the place is still. A house decorated with model ships, fantastic paintings of sailing ships, army medals, browning photographs of a time long ago and of course more than a few framed letters from more than a few people with names you might recognize. "George Bush Sr, CIA Director", Ronald Reagan..you get the picture.

    George himself is easily eighty years old, and even now he's broad shouldered and whilst he may not be quite as intimidating as he once was. His frame is still packed with enough aging muscle to put more than a few kids to shame. Worn out jeans, and a holed "I <3 Warcrimes" T-shirt tucked in. Otherwise well he's barefoot, bearded and for the moment? Utterly absorbed in his work.

Black Canary has posed:
    It's definitely evening by the time Black Canary can get out to the brownstone in question, parking her bike on the street before she slides off it, dropping the kickstand. She walks up to the door, and does something she always sort of gets a kick out of doing in Gotham...she actually rings the doorbell. She keeps imagining Bats doing this and always has to keep herself from grinning. She politely waits for him to come to the door.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    George lifts his head with a sigh, before setting down his tools. Casually coming his fingers through that white beard, before ascending the staircase to the first floor. He takes a moment to shove that careworn 45 into the back of his jeans, before opening the door. Then slowly, an eyebrow raises. "Heh, wow. Miss I think you've got the wrong address, but this might be a different discussion in my youth I assure you. What address were you looking for?"

Black Canary has posed:
    She's sort of used to these openings, putting a hand on her hip. "Wrong profession, sorry. Rooftops, not escort bars." she says, without much heat, then asks. "You're George Fisher? Herbet Sauer and Polina sent me, they said you might be able to help with a little problem I've run into...." She quietly holds up the nail, shielding it a bit from her body so only George can see it. "This, specifically...and another one like it."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Herbert Sauer, he said that was his name?"He sighs, eyes narrowing as the nail finally comes into view. "Jesus christ, that Fascist son of a bitch never quits."Stepping back to lead on inside. "Come on, I've got the files in the basement. Let me guess, regular looking guy with thick glasses? Dressed like some dandy ass cock sucker out for a sunday picnic?" The basement is home to a cute little bar, and a little work area. Beyond that, there are rows and rows of neat carboard boxes.

    "Pour yourself a drink honey, and you're going to want to take a seat for this. You didn't meet Herbert I'm afraid."He sets off into the racks of boxes, digging around for files. "Herbert Sauer was murdered in Colombia back when I was station chief there, right after they capped Pablo Escobar."

Black Canary has posed:
    "That'd be him..." Canary says, following him inside and downstairs, her boots making soft clumps as she descends. "Fascist, huh? I'm guessing you know who he actually is, despite the name he gave." She frowns, a bit worried about Polina now...did he force her to come there? How did he know she had the nail then? She finds herself a seat. "On the clock, but thanks.." she says politely to the drink, crossing her legs as she watches him dig. "I was wondering why I'd never seen him before. She leans back in the chair, crossing her arms under her chest as she waits patiently.
    

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Polina Vanchev, she was KGB back in the day. Defected in like 88', they sent him after her. She'd brought the nails with her, and then that set off a firestorm once we had a look at them."He returns after a spell and sets the box down. From within, he produces the goods. A thick file which he opens and sets on the bar. It's the kind of thing you're not supposed to have at home, because well CIA files stay at the CIA theoretically right?

    "Hauptman Armin Keller,Felix Dzerzhinsky Guards Regiment Kommando 4, Stasi Service foreign affairs office of clandestine affairs. He used the pin on Polina, and turned her back to his side. Then decided he didn't want to go home, and vanished off the face of the earth. He's the best interrogator the Stasi ever had, specialized in medical torture. Fingers and teeth most specifically, anyway he's one of the worst still out there. Like an animal, brutal beyond words."He settles back to let Dinah have her look. "And the guy who sold the Needles on the open market."