3374/Negotiations over drinks

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Negotiations over drinks
Date of Scene: 12 December 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Natasha and Zinda come to very agreeable terms. In exchange for Zinda's support for a renewed takeover bid of Blackhawk Freight, Natasha will support Zinda's efforts to rebuild the original Blackhawks. In the meantime, the CEO of Cranston Multinational Shipping obtains the services of an excellent personal pilot and test pilot...
Cast of Characters: Lady Blackhawk, Shadow




Lady Blackhawk has posed:
If there's a bar by an airport, it's likely that Zinda Blake has been there. If it's by a *military* airport then the odds of her having been in a fight there are about triple. Right now it's after dark but well before closing time at an off-base bar somewhere along the East Coast. The crowd is pretty thin, but that's not too discouraging to the loyal patrons.

A blonde bombshell sits at the bar, lining up empty longneck bottles as she sucks them down. Zinda is dressed in knee boots and her patented pleated miniskirt, with a leather jacket over a snug-fitting white tee. The jacket has the Blackhawks emblem, and looks to be a good WWII replica. Good enough to be the real thing.

Shadow has posed:
    A veteran bar brawler - such as Zinda certainly is - learns to develop a sense of the atmosphere of a bar, the better to know when a brawl is going to erupt before it does. So when the door opens and Natasha walks in, she can tell a great deal just from the change in tone without having to look over her shoulder: This is a stranger, it's a woman, and she's not dressed like the usual clientele... And by the way several of the heads in her field of view suddenly turn, she's at least moderately a looker.

    Natasha walks down the line of bar stools in calm, measured steps, the points of her heels - slightly higher than her personal preference, but much more appropriate for the sensible yet tasteful coat that's much more in style for the 60s than her usual garb. "Miss Blake?" she asks as she comes to a halt a comfortable step outside of the woman's personal space, polite yet not timid. "You were not an easy woman to find. I have a proposition I wish to discuss with you," she continues, then casts a pointed glance at the bottles. "Could I impose on you to clear some time in your personal schedule?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda's raising a beer when the tone of the bar shifts, drinking a bit more slowly at the sound of those approaching heels. Her other hand remains on the bar, keeping it in sight as if adhering to some unspoken rules of engagement. A nudge with the toe of a boot sends the bar stool in a slow, lazy turn that's stopped when Zinda rests an elbow on the bar. The blonde flashes a wide smile, letting her gaze roam along the coat and pumps only after she's taken in the other woman's face.
    "Oh c'mon, honey. I ain't THAT hard to find. Last I checked I'm even in the phone book." Gesturing with the bottle in hand, she offers the adjacent stool. "Step right into my office, if you want. Although that really does sorta depend on what you're proposing."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha inclines her head, not at all fazed by Zinda's response as she sits herself down. She looks around the room, the occupants, the selection of bottles on the wall, then finally at the bartender, and takes a checquebook out of her purse and starts writing in it as the bartender approaches.

    "You're closing for the evening as of now. Leave the keys and we'll lock the place when we're finished." The voice comes out with a certain degree of steely authority, a declaration of certainty what the world will be like rather than merely describing a desired outcome. The bartender stiffens, his mouth opening to demand who this woman thinks she is, but then he takes a good look at the checque and his eyes widen. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before words manage to come out. "... Everyone out. We're closing for the evening, your tabs are covered."

    The hubbub rises for a moment, but at the magic words of 'tabs are covered' people suddenly decide to shelve their objections, and the bar empties with alacrity.

    Once the door closes behind the final customer, Natasha turns back to regard Zinda. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss Blake. I'm Natasha Cranston, and I may have a business proposal for you..."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda's brows lift as the woman starts writing the check, working on finishing the lipstick stain on the beer bottle. For a moment she just holds the bottle, waiting for the bartender's reaction as well as the other patrons. She watches with dumbfounded amusement as the bar clears, leaning back against the bar with both elbows.
    "Miss Cranston, you sure do have a way with people, I'll give you that." drawls the blonde. "Honestly wasn't sure how that was gonna go down, but I'm pretty sure I could clear a .45 before Jack reached the shotgun behind the bar." Her head tilts, then, and the drunken amusement melts from her features as if wiped away with a towel. "You got my attention, honey. Seeing as you've gone to a lot of trouble to get it, what's on your mind?"

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha smiles. "I admit, it's almost refreshing when someone doesn't recognize my name outright. I'll get to the point, then; I am the CEO of Cranston Multinational Shipping, and earlier this week my company, at my instruction, made a bid to buy Blackhawk Freight as a subsidiary. A vote was held - one you weren't present for, despite owning twelve percent of voting stock - and the proposal was rejected. I decided to see if I could convince you to cast your votes in support of my bid when I propose it again."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    The mention of Cranston Multinational Shipping draws a curious look from the blonde and she sets the mostly-empty bottle on the bar, turning her seat slowly to face the other woman. "That ain't surprising, really. Blackhawk Freight sorta prefers I stay outta the way, if you know what I mean. I'm part of their history and a pretty figurehead to put on the company logo, but they treat me like the loud Aunt who has too much to drink at Thanksgiving. Can't really send me home, but nobody likes to sit beside me either."
    She crosses one leg over the other, which isn't helped by the short skirt. "Let's speak plainly, lady. Supposin' I throw in my share with CMS. What's in it for me? And more importantly, what do YOU want with Blackhawk Freight?"

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha nods and steeples her fingers. "Excellent questions, both. As to the second - for the most part it's good old-fashioned diversification. Air shipping has always been CMS' weak point, and I aim to change that. I'll also freely admit I need the positive press of a successful acquisition to restore some confidence after I unilaterally cut loose a number ... ethically questionable, if technically legal and certainly profitable... ventures and subsidiaries. My company's reputation is more important to me than its bottom line, but that doesn't mean I'm entirely at liberty to ignore the latter. I have other plans of possible expansion as well; a subsidiary specializing in air freight would serve very nicely."

    "As for what I'd have to offer /you/, well..." She pauses, once again taking in the bar, the already empty bottles, and Zinda herself. "I suspect you can tell me." She smiles. "But before you do, permit me to make a few observations and guesses. You are, by most standards, independently wealthy and very well off. You are not, perhaps, among the ranks of the millionaires, but with your current income you could live your entire life with almost every imaginable luxury without ever lifting another finger. Yet, by all rumor and report, what you instead choose to do is collect airplanes you rarely fly anymore, and travel from one city to the next once you've been thrown out of every local bar for causing a braw. That suggests, to me, that you're unhappy with your current situation and don't see a viable way for improving it, or you'd be working on that rather than killing your liver. Given your financial situation, what you're looking for either can't be bought outright, or will cost an order of magnitude more than your income will ever allow. You also haven't cashed out your shares, suggesting that their value still wouldn't be sufficient."

    She leans one elbow on the table, sapphire eyes locked onto Zinda's. "I also remember stories my grandfather liked to tell me about a particularly glamourously photogenic group of flying mercenaries during the War. So tell me, miss Blake. What unattainable need is weighing down the wings of the last of the Blackhawks?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda lifts a brow and rolls the words around a bit in her head. "...ethically questionable, if technically legal... Honey in the right circles that could mean just about anything. But I s'pose the important words in play are 'cut loose'. I do appreciate a company with a solid moral compass."
     When Natasha pauses Zinda takes the opportunity to reach behind the bar and help herself to another bottle. Holding the cap on the edge of the bar, she pops it off with a deft <smack> of her palm in what is no doubt a well-practiced technique. Raising the bottle to her lips, she takes a deep swig as the other woman starts her speculation. Still gripping the neck of the bottle, she points and replies. "For the record, as the last member of Blackhawk Squadron, the company's sorta got a LOT of sentimental value to me. More than you'd know. So whatever happens, the name and the logo stay put."
    Her bar stool swivels back and forth as she considers, nursing the beer with an occasional pull from the bottle. "You ain't wrong, though. About any of it." Zinda admits eventually, her voice getting a bit softer. "'Cept the part about me killin' my liver. I was *weaned* on cheap beer and cigarettes." A wink dispels any momentary serious air, before she says simply. "Blackhawk Island. That's what I want. Our old base, off the charts someplace that only me and a few weather satellites know about. Last time I was there, the place was pretty much a ghost town."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha nods, clearly having no objection to the first of Zinda's demands, and when Zinda starts talking about the island, she just listens, leaning slightly forward, eyes flickering just a bit as she studies Zinda's expression and body language as much as she hears the words, and leaps to a conclusion. "... You want to revive the Blackhawks. I see..."

    She lets her voice trail off, her gaze drawing inward as she starts working the numbers in her head. "Modern planes, of course; you want them to be a /true/ fighting force, not a group of performers for nostalgic crowds... The airfields would need to be inspected, possibly the runways lengthened or reinforced, depending on what kind of craft you intend to field... Maintenance, fuel, ammo, a logistics chain, although depending on the size of the island some of it might be self-sufficient, especially if you've no objections to a seafood diet... Yes, that would cost quite a great deal. Anywhere between sixty and a hundred fifty million, depending on the state of the facilities and the size squadron you want to be able to field..."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda smiles wryly, showing that she's not nearly as drunk as she should be, with all those empties at hand. "Now you're talkin' my language. I'd need a full support staff, logistics, and the works. That's actually the easy part." Uncrossing her legs, she leans forward and rests one elbow on the bar. Natasha can smell the beer on her breath and can see the intensity in those blue eyes.

    "Last I checked, the UN frowns real big when you start talkin' about mercenary fighting forces, even outside the 200 mile offshore range. Soon as you mention supersonic interceptors they call in the CIA and things get ugly real fast." And she knows this -how-...? "I can set up the base installation details. Hell, I even got my eyes on a few good pilots. Planes we can buy on the open market from US manufacturers, same as the Israelis. I know people." Of course she does.

    "The trick is gonna be *keeping* the whole operation off the radar, while finding the sorta jobs that might just need our kind of capabilities."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha nods. "CMS has /some/ goodwill built up at the United Nations thanks to our sterling record at supporting charities, but not nearly enough for the kind of clout to tolerate a PMC with access to military aircraft. And with all respect, I don't think it's possible to do the kind of jobs you're hoping to do and /not/ start to draw attention. Lady Blackhawk." She emphasizes the title slightly to make her point. "This will not be easy, and will likely require a great deal of work behind the scenes aside from money. However, I /am/ willing to promise my backing as a silent partner. I'm fairly certain I can arrange for supply shipments to be delivered off the record, at least. But that would perforce be a long-term goal. In the interim, I'd have several positions for you in mind, all of which combined would pay very well and hopefully appeal to your proclivities. Firstly, to continue your unofficial position as figurehead of Blackhawk Freight; having your public support will be good press, which I do admit I need. Second, while I'm not anticipating any /immediate/ need to travel abroad... I've been persuaded that when I do, I would do well to pick a pilot I can trust. And thirdly... CMS also has an R&D division that is not, currently, doing anything productive. I have plans for them as well. Plans that will require a skilled test pilot, who enjoys flying, new challenges, and the opportunity to be the first person ever to fly a new design."

    She leans back in her seat. "I don't suppose you'd know where I'd find someone like that?" she asks, smiling.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda listens, eyes brightening and smile widening with every word. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't take so much as another sip of her beer either. At the end of Natasha's proposal she simply lifts her beer in a toast and quotes a line from an old movie.

    "Miss Cranston, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."