Dinah would be lying if she said that it didn't bring at least a modicum of comfort to know that you had back up-- in a freaking helicopter. Oh yes, the sound of the chopper (barely audible over the roar of her motorcycle) was a welcome, soothing one.
"I don't see him-- is he behind me?" Canary asked, trying to glance back to find the SUV that, for the moment, was a block behind her but quickly cutting up through traffic.
That's when the white Escalade in front of the Lincoln towncar hit the brakes-- and hard, a group of thug types who didn't bother to uphold the mafia pin-stripped suit dress code jumped out. The FBI agents inside the car began evasive maneuvers a few of them leaning out of the car and firing at the mobsters. The bystanders on the parkway were honking and screaming, but Dinah was already gunning her engine and pulling into the space between lanes, trying to get to the car to help the FBI Agents.
The car behind-- one silver SUV-- couldn't get through due to the stopped traffic so instead the driver and passengers (about eight of them by the looks of it) rolled down their windows and opened fire, half aiming at the blonde careening for the stopped towncar, and half at the Agents who were fighting back.
"So this is what swiss cheese in a bad guy sandwich feels like..." Dinah commented more to herself than anyone else, keeping her head down and zigzagging between cars up the Parkway.