noir_canary (noir_canary) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-08-10 14:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | black canary |
Who: Black Canary
NPCS: Thugs, victims, Dr. Sarah Garnett (a diplomat)
What: Dinah follows up on her new lead in the docks. The pieces start to come together.
Where: Tricorner Shipping Yards, Gotham City NJ
When: Friday, August 10th
Rating: PG-13/R
Notes: Miss Round One? Find it here
She slept, showered, ate and did research until the sun went down. Then it was time for round two-- the Streets of Gotham vs. Black Canary.
With the lead she'd gotten last night, at least she had a solid idea where to start looking. The phone calls and internet research she'd spent most of the afternoon on had yielded nothing immediately telling-- except for the fact that several large cargo shipments from a corporation called 'K.C. Alloys' were either leaving or entering the docks every two weeks. This in and of itself wasn't interesting-- it wasn't even enough for probable cause-- but what was interesting was that other than their appearance on the shipping manifests; K.C. Alloys didn't exist. They brought their cargo on (seemingly) unsuspecting freight ships based out of Beijing, swapped the shipping crates out with half a dozen others that were ready on the docks, sent them back over to China and waited for the next batch.
Like a canary in a coalmine, Dinah could smell trouble. And that made Tricorner Yards her first stop for the night. She wanted to see for herself what was in those crates entering and leaving the country through a ghost corporation.
Unfortunately, motorcycles (at least any motorcycle worth having in Dinah's opinion) weren't conducive to a stealthy entrance. She left her bike in an alley a few blocks away, moving through side streets, back entrances and alleyways. Were Dinah to ever have a sidekick of her very own (which was a long shot to say the least), she decided right then and there that Lesson #1 would be knowing each street, cubbyhole, alley and entrance like a 30-year native. Only after they knew all that would she start teaching them any martial arts. All the martial arts and superpowers in the world amounted to nothing if you couldn't even find your way to the fight.
Sticking to the shadows, Dinah moved into the shipping yard, around the guards at the front entrance. They were 9-5ers anyway and didn't pay enough attention to look above them where the blonde heroine leaped off of a fire escape onto the roof of one of the front correlated steel tent-buildings.
The search light from the lighthouse in the harbor brushed from one side of the dock to the over, outlining each building in sharp, direct light before passing again. Dinah pressed down flat against the top of the building. She stilled and waited for the searchlight to pass over her before moving to the edge of the roof, wrapping her legs around the steel pole, locking her ankles together, and holding onto said pole with the crook of her elbow. She let go of the roof with her other hand and slid down like a fireman heading off into danger.
Landing in a crouch, Canary kept low as she darted behind a set of shipping crates. Her target ship, The Goody Faith Brown, designation #FKL40318Z, was only a couple hundred yards away. The problem with ships though was there was only one way on- or off- a ship that didn't involve swimming and while Dinah was a strong swimmer, she knew she didn't have the upper body strength to scale the hull and climb aboard without thoroughly exhausting herself. Maybe on a smaller ship that plan would have stood a chance, but with the size of this freighter... there was no way that it wouldn't end badly.
So it was to be the old fashioned way after all.
As she had done the night before, Dinah waited from her spot in the darkness. It may have been only a few minutes, or maybe an hour, or even more before she was ready to make her move. She'd been studying the movements of the guards on the gangplank and the twist of the search light. She would need to get past the guards and run, silently, through the open of the gangplank in the 20 second cover of darkness and hide immediately on the ship.
Well. She was sure she'd done more difficult things in her life.
For the second time in as many days, Dinah wished she had some place to put a grappling hook. It really did seem like it would come in handy, now that she thought about it.
Dinah took off her boots and tied them together, throwing them over her shoulder and sat back to wait. Thankfully she'd had a tetanus shot in the past couple years, so as long as the rusty nails she stepped on didn't go through her feet, this should work...
The searchlight moved, the guards parted, and Canary darted out, keeping low until her cover ended, then bolted full tilt up the gangplank, taking the rungs two at a time. She didn't even bother wasting the time to stand up completely, opting instead to use both hands and feet to haul herself up. She leapt straight from the gangplank for the side of the ship and grunted as she pulled herself over the edge and rolled onto her feet behind a large wooden shipping crate. Other than that one grunt, her run had been silent and the guards never the wiser. She put her boots back on quickly, her mind already turning to the next step.
Find the crates.
She had memorized the crate numbers that she needed-- #DEH8321, -8322, and -8323. Now it was just a matter of searching the ship for them. Which was going to take forever if she didn't get smart about this.
Dinah frowned, looking around for anything that might spark a plan. That was when she saw the bridge, rising up out of the ship like a miniature mountain. Any captain worth his salt would know exactly where each crate was... all she had to do was find his notes. Her frown was replaced with a grin as Dinah made her way towards the bridge.
Canaries not being sea birds, Dinah had no clue who was sleeping in the bridge. She was almost positive it wasn't the Captain- but it could have been anyone from the First Mate on down to a cabin boy (were cabin boys still a thing?). No matter who he was, waking him was the last thing she wanted to do.
Creeping onto the bridge, Dinah was pleased to find a diagram of the ship posted along one of the walls with shipping crates marked in with dry-erase marker. She was going to have to thank the Captain for his fastidiousness some day.
Dinah left the bridge and hurried down to the three marked crates she was after which were- of course- locked. She was just having one of those nights. Stalking around each crate in turn and looking for an alternate way in-- again, she came up empty handed. Canary frowned at the locks. She could pick them, if she had lockpicks (really, she should look into getting a utility belt or something) but then again, she'd never been very good at picking locks. She could do it, mind you, just not very quickly or without a lot of swearing. And this lock and steel door weren't about to break under a heavy kick like most of the other doors she ran into. Damn doors. She put her ear to the crate to see if she could hear anything suspicious, but it was a fruitless endeavor. She was just about to start Screaming the blasted things open when she saw a pair of bolt cutters nearby. How fortuitous. Maybe it wasn't such an unlucky day after all.
Cutting the locks was difficult (this was what happened when you focused much of your strength training on your lower body, and were a woman, who naturally carry their strength in their legs) but not impossible. The first lock cracked and Dinah pulled it off, carefully rolling the door back enough that she could use the light of the moon to peek inside. Though she had a small flashlight in her jacket pocket, Dinah didn't use it yet. After all, you never knew what was hiding behind the door.
When nothing moved, made noise or attacked, Dinah pushed the door back further so she could shine her flashlight inside.
Empty. Completely empty.
Stepping into the crate- and keeping one eye on the door at all times- Dinah scoured the entire structure for clues. There was a worn, busted tennis shoe, an empty bag of Fritos and a couple bottles of water, but other than those trash items, nothing. A frown settled on her face. Maybe the next crate would prove more worthwhile.
But it didn't. In fact, none of the three crates had anything more interesting than a dirty blanket and a couple junk food wrappers which were easily explained if you figured that homeless people were likely to use the crates for shelter when they were on dry land. All of that work, and nothing. A dead end. Scowling her frustration, Dinah pocketed her flashlight and carefully closed each of the crates. If her luck held, she'd be long gone for they realized the locks had been cut.
Of course, speaking of luck always made it vanish, and Canary lifted her head as she heard voices, calling to each other from some distance. Peeking around the side of the crate she saw two of the crew walking from either end of the ship. They were going to meet right in front of her and there was no where to hide except back inside one of the crates that only had one entrance and were pitch black. It was too easy to get shut in there with no way out, and dropped into the harbor. Thanks, but no thanks. If she was going in the drink, she'd be doing it under her own power.
Which, unfortunately, seemed like the only way out of this little pickle.
While the guards were distracted, Canary bolted for the edge of the ship and launched herself off of it, bringing her hands over her head and tucking her chin in a not-anywhere-near-perfect dive.
Yes, the water hurt when she hit it and she was probably going to be bruised. Yes, she made noise with her splash. But when the guards leaned over to see what the hell had just happened, they saw nothing- and their attention was immediately drawn elsewhere as the Captain came onboard, telling everyone to get back to work.
With the breath knocked out of her from the high dive, Dinah couldn't help but gasp when she surfaced again, dragging air back into her lungs. Her boots were heavy and a leather jacket wasn't really conducive to a night swim, but she flicked her hair back out of her face and swam for the dock.
She was just about to pull herself back up onto the dock when she noticed a car parked on one of the large piers (usually reserved for the big trucks that brought the cargo crates to the ships). Clinging to the edge of the dock with her fingertips, Dinah dropped down and moved under the dock, only her face above water, watching the goings-on above.
The Captain from the ship had come down the gangplank and was standing right over her. She heard the dull thud of high heels on the wooden pier.
"Captain. Is everything ready for our shipment next week?" A woman's voice (older, mid-fourties?) said in an accent that Dinah didn't recognize.
"It'll be ready."
"I need assurance."
"And I need my money."
The woman scoffed. "You'll get your money once you've completed your end of the deal."
"Come by on Monday, I'll show you the ship."
"Not Monday." The woman said, eyeing the docks as though she clearly had better places to be. "I have a gala at the Embassy on Monday."
"Tuesday then." The Captain offered.
"Dr. Garnett?" A young male voice added to the conversation. Peeking through the slats the best she could, Dinah noted that he must have been the woman's driver (wearing the usual, chauffeur's hat and suit), was probably only in his early-mid twenties and notably easy on the eyes.
"Yes, Todd?"
"It's time."
"Of course, go wait in the car." She instructed, turning back to the Captain, "And you, Captain. I will see you on Tuesday and I trust that everything will be to my liking."
"Yes'm." The Captain said with a nod, glancing towards the young man, "Smart young man to be getting in your good graces, Dr. Garnett."
The woman rolled her eyes, "Please, Captain. I don't keep him for his brains. Tuesday. Do not disappoint me." She said, then walked back to her car which left the docks only a few moments later.
The Captain stood by, watching the car until it disappeared from sight, then went back up onto his ship. Canary waited another full five minutes before she climbed out of the water and made her way back to her motorcycle outside of the docks.
So she knew the what but not the why or the where... but there was an Embassy function on Monday that this Dr. Garnett would be attending. Now Dinah just needed an excuse to get herself invited and to put a tracer on her which might be more easily said than done unless she was a good-looking twenty something ma-- Oh wait. It was so obvious.
All Dinah needed to seal this case was a little bit of Cougar Bait.
And she knew just who to call.