Rainy Gotham Nights [Open]

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It was raining.

Which - Okay, Gotham, miserable weather was pretty much par for the course, particularly since it was spring, but that didn't make sitting in the middle of the pouring rain any less god-awful. Robin tugged his cape up a little higher over his head, huddling a little farther beneath it and pressing in closer to the wall of the high, shadowed ledge he was crouching on. It was a futile hope, the thought of staying at least some semblance of dry, but at the very least he could get the rain to stop running that half-inch into his cape and dripping on him. He shifted the binoculars in his other hand up a little higher, getting a better view of the warehouse doors he was watching.

Stakeouts weren't the most fun even under the best circumstances, but at least they were usually more tolerable than this. Spring or not, the nights hadn't quite started warming up the way the days had, and the result was a cold, damp vigilante who couldn't quite stop daydreaming about Alfred's hot chocolate. The teenager wrinkled his nose as one fat, chilly wet drop found its way to the relatively dry part of the arm he was using to hold his cape up and started sliding uncomfortably down towards his sleeve. Uuuuggghh. No way to get rid of it - he couldn't stop watching the doors, and he risked getting hit by a whole lot more rain if he moved the arm supporting his cape.

At least the water would eventually warm to his body heat once it got past his sleeve, Robin consoled himself. It was a small sacrifice to make for the success of the Mission; he could take it. And it was only until the smugglers he was waiting for showed up. Once they arrived, he could get the evidence he needed, follow them back to their base, and then break their faces for subjecting him to this misery. One call to the GCPD after that, and he could beg off the rest of patrol with only minimal guilt. He'd get to spend the rest of the night manning the computer banks, running forensics, and actually drinking Alfred's hot cocoa instead of just dreaming about it. It would be nice.

Those dang smugglers just needed to get here first. Robin cringed a little as the water seeped into his body armor, frigid against what little body heat he'd managed to retain. He tried to squish himself further under his cape and hoped desperately that the smugglers turned up soon.

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What is it with this rain in this damn city? I mean, it never just drizzles, no... when it rains it pours, no pun intended. There the Black Canary was on a stake out in the pouring rain, the weather didn't stop crime, it also didn't stop the one's who protect. She had gotten a tip that some smugglers were meeting in this location. It's been a while since she took out smugglers, pieces of trash. With binoculars with heat detection, night vision, the works included in hand she scanned the area but nothing yet, hope they weren't no shows.

The rain was cold and heavy on her hood, yea, she was wearing a hood. Her normal attire wasn't the best choice for this weather, what she had on now was totally different from the norm. She was in black skin tight leather tights, a leather jacket, boots, and a black mask. The jacket and boots had yellow motifs on them and looked damn good. No one wants to catch hypothermia, right?

She then sighed. Criminals are so unpredictable, can't ever be on time. She then began to scan across the roof tops and then her binoculars picked something up, someone was perched on the ledge of the other building across the way... "What the... Who could that be? Does it see me?" Dinah mumbled to herself, trying to stay hidden. Who would be crazy enough to be in weather like this. Umm, Dinah! You are as well, pretty bird!!! 

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Carmine Falcone prided himself on having a nose for good business, and tonight his sinuses were telling him to head into East Gotham. Of course, by sinuses he meant informants.

Apparently the Maroni were storing a shipment of cigarettes to sell tax-free, and they were doing it on the north side of the river. Falcone territory. Sure, it had been years since he had asserted the outfit's traditional domain, but Maroni had made an agreement and by God or by Satan Carmine would see that he stuck to the deal.

He felt a chill on the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the cold, wet rain. "Stop the car," he said, and his driver obliged. His escort stopped with him and he stepped out of the car, his hat protecting his face from the rain. Milos quickly got out of the front passenger seat and opened an umbrella over Carmine's head.

"What's wrong boss?" He asked.

"I don't know. You don't feel that? It's the same feeling I got right before Cannae."

Milos quickly stuck his hand towards his holster when he heard his boss. "Don't bother Milos," Carmine said as he patted him fraternally on the shoulder, "If he's here there's nothing we can do about it."

Carmine sighed then, and opened his pocketwatch. "10:30. We don't have time. Order the men to get into position and be ready to stop any Maroni who show up. We're taking those cigarettes and we're telling whatever smugglers show up to sell it that they have a new boss to answer to. A building of free cigarettes should send a good message to them, and pay us backtaxes for whatever they've done on our territory before."

Milos nodded and sent a quick text. The cars in Carmine's entourage pulled out on to the street and headed for an empty lot they could safely park in. The men would be ready to take the warehouse by 10:45, and all it would take is his order.

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Whoa. Those cars did not belong to the smugglers he was waiting for. Really, really did not belong to the smugglers he waiting for, Robin amended as Carmine Falcone climbed out onto the street. Dang it - that was definitely Not Good. Mouth pressing into a thin line, he adjusted the zoom on his binoculars and took stock of the developing situation.

Yeah. Crap.

Robin tucked the binoculars away and vanished into the shadows. Stealth was something he'd always had something of a natural talent for, but Batman had definitely turned that into something far, far more effective than an affinity for moving quietly: Robin was all but invisible when he wanted to be. And tonight, he definitely wanted to be, particularly as he did some recon of the men moving into position around the warehouse. This wasn't something he could handle alone - Batman would kill him if he tried. But there wasn't enough time to call B in, so...

"Black Canary?" Robin asked as he settled behind the woman, voice only just loud enough to catch her attention. "Sorry, hi."

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 Stood in the alleyway, foot rested against the brick work and cigarette sat between the lips, John plucked the smoke from his mouth and cocked his head back, blowing into the air. Hid in the shadows under a fire escape, John observed the road and waited for a sign, a glint of number plate, anything. The police radio that sat on his belt crackled with passing chatter, a new tool in his new found fight on crime. After emigrating, John needed something to pass away the time and upon discovering his Greater Manchester warrant card and police badge, he found that old habits die hard. Re-awakening the old copper in him, Constantine took on his first job to get back in the saddle.

Pulling open his coat and drawing up the revolver from the holster in his belt, John extinguished his cigarette and leant around the corner into the road. Seeing a black car pull up, John bit his bottom lip and strained his eyes to see. He leant around the edge of the brick work, spotting the sight of a familiar shape on Gotham's streets.

"Falcone. Bollocks..."

Sliding the revolver back into it's holster, John ran his hand down his face, stretching the skin away from his bone. He retook his position underneath the fire escape and let his head lol against the brickwork. He needed a way around if he was to find out what the score Falcone was after. He gazed up and quickly acted upon his thoughts of climbing up the fire escape. John quickly ascended the ladder and stepped onto the roof, flicking his coat collar up to protect himself from the rain. I front of him crouched a blonde haired woman in leather, hiding from sight. Slightly behind her, a teenager in the recognisable attire of Robin, The Dark Knight's sidekick. John slid out a cigarette and lighter as he made his way towards the pair on the rooftop. He again reached for his revolver.

"Funny place for a meetin' a rooftop..."

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All of a sudden a black car pulled up and two men exited. One with a gun and the other just looked around and examined the area. Canary stayed hidden as the man observed the rooftops. When he began talking to what was obviously his body guard, Dinah then gave him another look and zoomed in on him. "The Roman!" Was all Dinah said, he was back. Here Dinah was expecting some stupid smugglers but then the don of the Falcone family shows up, what the hell! Someone got their facts wrong, damn informants. I doubt the Falcone Family are the smugglers, right?

In disbelief she then noticed that her unknown company across the way was gone. She then heard a voice behind her. It was the voice of a young boy. "Oh! Hi Robin!" It was the boy wonder, well the latest installment to take the identity. "So, you had gotten the tip too?" She then signaled down below. "Falcone! Definitely not what I was expecting..." She then went on to watch the two men. Then all of a sudden another voice appeared behind the duo. It was a gruff and deep sounding voice. Might have been the rain, but wait was that also a English accent?

Canary then turned around to a fighting position. It was a man in a trench coat and tie smoking a cigarette. What? Canary then lowered her guard and put her hand on her hip with a confused look on her face looking to Robin and then to the man. "Who the hell are you?"

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Carmine stared about at the pouring rain. This was one thing he hadn't missed while he was in exile. The Riviera was generally sunny and bright, and people there were still willing to cater to those with money and the knowledge to use it.

He heard what sounded like rattling metal coming from a nearby alley. Probably cats fighting on the fire escape. Whatever it was he knew the Bat family wouldn't make so much noise, so he kept his mind at ease. Milos stood silently next to him, his eyes scanning the area with practiced ease. Sometimes Carmine wondered if the man had X-Ray vision like Superman. He never missed a thing.

Milos' phone buzzed and he took it out to read the text. "They're ready," he told Carmine and the Roman nodded. He checked his pocket watch. 10:40. "They moved fast," he said to Milos.

"Well Gazzo kept them in good shape for you boss," Milos answered. Carmine had to admit that his consigliere and Metropolis business partner had a way with training soldiers. "Give them the go," he said and after Milos sent the text the two men turned towards the warehouse and began to walk towards it.

"Do you see anything," he asked Milos, who started to shake his head before freezing suddenly. He scanned around them nervously.

"What is it Milos?"

"I don't know Mr. Falcone, but you were right. All the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up."

"Do you think it's the Maroni?" Falcone let his hand drift to the snub nosed pistol he had taken for this rendezvous. The Maroni he could deal with. Sal would probably even be apologetic, and withdraw across the river in exchange for some of the cigarettes in the warehouse, but at the same time it paid to be careful.

"No, boss, the Maroni don't set me off like this," Milos told him.

Falcone gritted his teeth. What kind of trouble was floating out there tonight? "Let's make this fast then," he told Milos, "We'll tell the men they get one trip, so make sure everyone takes as much as they can carry."

Milos nodded and they heard raised, but purposefully not yelling voices coming from the warehouse. His men were in there already it seemed. He would have to call Gazzo and thank him for his work. He didn't hear shots being fired, so that was definitely a good sign that these smugglers would see reason.

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"No, I'm not here on a tip," Robin told Canary a little distractedly as he narrowed his eyes behind his mask at the trench-coated man. He looked familiar, and Robin was sure he'd seen him in Batman's files... "I've been working this case for a while. Mr. Constantine, I'd appreciate it if you didn't pull that gun. There's no need, and I'm not a fan."

There was a small beep from his comm, inaudible to anyone else - one of the small audio bugs he'd left on the warehouse doors to let him know when Falcone's people moved. And they were moving; already entering the warehouse. Robin's expression tightened slightly, and he gave the two adults a hard look.

"Sorry, but I don't have the time to stand around and chat right now," he informed them, matter-of-fact. "Falcone's moving, and I need to get down there before the people I was actually waiting for show up."

Robin reached into his belt, pulling out two spare earpieces and offering them to the older heroes. "Here. If you decide you'd like to help, put that in and let me know; I'll fill you in on the plan. If you decide you don't want to help, then please stay up here and out of the way so I can work around you."

The words were clipped and professional, but polite, much like the short nod he gave the pair before walking away. He vanished into the darkness again at the first available opportunity and made his way back down to the warehouse.

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 John walked slowly towards the woman and Robin as he held the revolver in his hand. He listened to the comments brought forth by the two that accompanied him on the rooftop. He stared down at Falcone and his men as he reached who he now knew to be Black Canary. He eyed her slyly before speaking.

"Relax Treacle, I'm on your side..."

He rooted around in his pocket for his old warrant card and passed it over to The Canary. He was quick to comment on his status as a ex-police officer.

"Not in The Force now mind you, got kicked out as they deemed my methods a bit..."

John drew another cigarette from the packet and placed it between his lips. He paused briefly and lit the smoke using a small jet of flame sparked from his fingertips.

"...'unfamiliar'."

Glancing down at the small communicator that now lay in the palm of his hand, John huffed a sigh of sarcastic impression.

"Looks like somebody's planned ahead."

Placing the communicator in his ear, John whipped open the trench coat and drew his revolver, checking the six chambers.

"Right, let's get this over and done with so we can all get down the pub and get the beers in..."

Revolver in hand, John lunged the shadows after Robin...

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Carmine waited for his men to send the all clear. When Milos indicated it was safe he stepped towards the warehouse, which now had 15 of his men inside, along with the four smugglers who had expected a simple dropoff.

"Tell the men to guard the perimeter, we don't need any Maroni surprises. Keep their guns holstered unless trouble shows up. No accidents. We just take the cigarettes and get out. Hopefully Cobblepot or one of the others will pay us for them and we can offload quickly and cleanly," he commanded Milos.

Normally Carmine would have assigned this duty to one of his capos, but tonight was the night to send a message to the Maroni, and so he had turned up personally to make sure it was delivered. He hoped that they had only sent four men, enough to match the smugglers, but given the volume of the cargo he suspected it would be closer to ten. He still had the numbers, and hopefully that would be enough. This would also be a good way to test his intelligence network.

If the Maroni showed up with enough men to take him, he would know he had spies in his gang already. If they showed up with four men, he knew that his spies were well placed and could influence the gang's actions. Either way, this was an important test for the resurging Falcone outfit, and he would make sure that it went off with as few hitches as possible.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to show up tonight boss?" Milos asked him as they walked into the warehouse.

"Quod scripsi, scripsi Milos," Carmine responded fatalistically. It was far too late to change his mind now. Besides, he could handle a few Maroni.

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Alright, so Constantine was in. Robin paused on the warehouse roof, just moments from letting himself inside.

"Constantine, there's a back entrance on the south-eastern wall," he muttered. "Come in through there on my signal. Black Canary, if you'll take the street side door? Just everyone stay out of sight."

Maybe they'd actually be able to keep this clean. Robin ducked into the warehouse, feet silent as he stepped onto the rafting. Moving carefully, he traveled out across the girders, taking stock of the situation. Fifteen men, armed - wonderful, at least four assault rifles, three shotguns... A mini-uzi? No way was he calling Constantine and Canary in until he'd at least taken care of that problem. Four warehouse workers, currently being held hostage at gunpoint. Robin recognized them from earlier surveillance. 

He hopped across the rafters, little more than a shadow, following a couple of the gunmen as they walked away to search the warehouse for anyone else. Robin grinned a little when they parted ways, putting a high stack of crates between them. Easy pickings - perfect. He dropped down, all but a ghost as he landed behind the first man. Three quick steps to catch up, and it didn't much matter that Robin was barely half the man's size: the takedown was clean and perfectly quiet. He moved to the corner of the crate wall, waiting, then dropped the second man just as he finished calling in the all-clear. Perfect. Robin popped the magazines out of the assault rifles, removed the firing pins to disable them more permanently, then got back up into the ceiling to see what other damage he could do.

He managed to put down one more man before Falcone himself walked in - and thankfully, it was the one with the mini-uzi. Like they really needed to be dealing with that kind of firepower tonight, sheesh. Though... It presented a couple questions. Did Falcone actually know what this was? Robin narrowed his eyes as he caught the name 'Maroni'. 

The comm units picked up the vibrations of the cartilage in his inner ear, so even though his voice was nearly inaudible even to himself, he knew Canary and Constantine would be able to hear him perfectly when he murmured grimly, "I think we might be expecting some extra company. Falcone thinks this is a Maroni operation - and Maroni definitely has nothing to do with the crew I tracked here."

He'd checked. Twice. This... Was going to be a problem.

[Deleted]

Everything was going fine. Carmine watched as his men carefully checked their newfound cargo and confirmed the steal. Some started to load up hand trucks with the crates of cigarettes while the perimeter guards kept up a patrol that was well practiced.

"They just called in the all clear," Milos told him as he entered the warehouse. Carmine nodded and turned his head towards the small group of men huddled in the middle of the workspace on their knees. He walked towards them, tailed by Milos.

"Evening, gentlemen," he greeted them as he grabbed a nearby crate and used it as a seat. "Long night?"

He gave them a few moments to consider their position. It was unlikely any of them had ever been in the presence of one of Gotham's largest bosses, and Carmine had noticed that people tended not to think clearly on their first try.

"So, who wants to tell me when the Maroni are coming?" He finally asked.

"W-what?" One of the men sputtered, "Maroni?"

He glanced at one of the other men, "There's no Maroni here," the other man said.

Carmine frowned and looked to Milos for a moment, then back to the men. "I didn't ask about who was here," he clarified with a note of irritation in his voice, "I asked when they were coming."

"There are Maroni coming?" A third man spoke up, "I didn't sign up to work in the mob."

His companions quickly shushed him while Carmine raised an eyebrow to Milos and the lieutenant who had just joined the men. "Milos, what is going on here?"

"I can have Joe take a whack at them," Milos started to suggest.

"Milos, something is wrong here. I doubt broken knee caps will solve it," Carmine ignored the whimpers coming from the men on the ground.

He stood up so that his height was increased relative to the men, and stared into the eyes of the nearest one.

"So you boys work here? You sell any of the cigarettes you bring in?"

Carmine listened to them answer as he heard a radio crackle with a report to Milos from one of the guards around the warehouse.