DC: 2012-04-05 - Rumble In Club 90s

Back in Bludhaven after a couple days down in St. Roch, Kendra's..irritated. It isn't the biggest surprise for those that know her, but that's the thing about dying and coming back - not a lot know her, and some that do have found it rather suspicious so far. Having laid low for months might have something to do with it. Attempting to distract herself, she's decided to give the club scene in the city a test. The evenings are still cool out this way so she's gone with a loose, long-sleeved top and an actual skirt, above the knees, and knee-high black boots all under a long coat. Hair's short, small gold earrings are worn as well.

Dick is at the club tonight as well, leaving his pistol, and his more.. covert... gear behind in his apartment. Right now he's just Dick Greyson, party animal. It's good to have a way to vent stress that doesn't involve beating criminals senseless when that's what he does for a job.. both jobs actually. Right now he's in the club jamming, dancing with some club hopping vixen who probably won't remember the night by the smell of booze on her. But still, it's fun. Loose fitting jeans and a tightish T-shirt make up his clubbing outfit, along with a good pair of adida's.

Kendra's completely sober and plans to stay that way tonight, wanting to keep a clear head. Fortunately, being a woman means most clubs let you in without a cover charge. Leave that for the guys. In she goes after a minimal wait, though she gives the bouncer a look after feeling his eyes lingering on her a second or two longer than they need to. "Whatever," she murmurs, unimpressed. Looks like a typical dudebro. Then she's in, making her way toward the bar for a drink - just a soda.

Dick has his gaze on Kendra the instant she enters his field of vision. The boozed up brunette grinding on him is forgotten for the moment it takes to size the girl up. Confidence, strong and graceful walk unless she's purposely hiding it.. Althete. A pang of familiarity strikes at him but he can't put his finger on it. But then she's lost in the crowd, headed for the bar and Dick turns his attention back to the girl on his leg. A gentle push turns her attentions elsewhere and Dick is free.

There is a certain level of self-assuredness about Kendra's demeanor, though it's hard to tell whether or not it's a mask of some kind. The drink she picks is a clear one, bubbly, probably one of those lemon-lime sodas as she sips from the narrow glass while watching the dancefloor. It /would/ be good to unwind here, just forget about some of the other things going on. Eyes pass over one man, then another, then another before pausing on Dick.

Dick catches Kendra's gaze as she returns his, and he offers a small nod to her. Not the typical 'dudebro' nod between guys, but an acknowlegement of presumed skill. A silent greeting by those in the life, an informal martial bow. He's not sure about her, but something is familiar, and he's learned to trust that feeling in his work. If she's not, no harm done, she'll just think he's odd. The music surges and suddenly it feels like the whole club is moving, dancing all at once.

Kendra squints at him, as if attempting to read what that look might mean. On the surface she probably ought not to know, but there's more to her than meets the eye. The top is snug enough, red and a little shimmery, the skirt a sort of shiny black pleather, boots probably real leather and also black. Sipping and approaching, she stops for a moment when the dancing really picks up. No further motion toward it just yet, eyes still on the other one.

Dick pulls his gaze from the girl, instead closing his eyes and moving with the pulsing rhythm that permeates the club. It jars the bones and sets the blood racing, not to mention a touch of deafness if one lingers too long. In the center of the crowd, he moves with it rather than fight it. This is why he came here, to relax and escape.

Not all is well in the club though, as the security vanishes via the backdoor, and quietly.. well.. muffled by the thumping.. armed thugs move in, all carrying some sort of automatic weapon. Looks to be five or six of them in all, moving slowly to predetermined spots in the crowd. At the height of the song though, a single gunshot cracks off, and the music dies apruptly, the DJ's kiosk spitting angry sparks. "This is what we in the biz call a stick up.. please.. make no fuss and nobody gets hurt. Wallets, jewlery and cash all in the bags, and please.. no fakes.. we're distinguished criminals." One of them yells out, apparently the leader carrying a large bore shotgun.

About to move closer to the man - she's curious - Kendra instead stops at the sudden sound of thugs making their presence known. People scream then duck and cover from the gunshot. Even Kendra ducks away back near the bar, her first instincts probably a good one. If she had her costume she could...no. She isn't Hawkgirl. Not any more. That's been made clear to her in no uncertain terms. She's just Kendra, isn't she? Keeping low, green eyes dart quickly from side to side. For what, though?

Dick is extraordinarily calm for the situation. Does it help that he's faced down legions of men better armed and far better trained than these guys? Definately.. but It's more because he's got backup on this one.. or so he believes. Hands up slightly, the supposed correct 'surrender' posture, he waits for one of the thugs to make his rounds to him. Even as the man growls out for his money, Dick drives a fist into the mans chin, then spinning on his heel, gripping the machine pistol the man carries, aiming it up and away from himself and the crowd. His other arm drives an elbow into the mans solar plexus, the bundle of nerves just below the sternum, and drops him like a sack of bricks. Before he can let himself think though, practiced hands, move across the magazine catch and slide release on the weapon and it comes apart in his hands. The people around him part like the red sea, and suddenly he's got two more guns trained on him, one in his face, and one in his back. "No heroics!" The leader shouts over everyone, seeing what Dick did.

Like the other patrons paying close enough attention, Kendra watches what Dick does with a look of surprise. Maybe she's not who or what he thought she was, since she hasn't taken any steps to involve herself in this incident past being a frozen bystander. She mouths a 'Damn' without verbalizing it, and it sure looks like Dick's just put himself in a really bad spot when there's no help immediately forthcoming. He must have read her wrong, and it could end up costing him. That is, before there's a sudden breaking of glass and red showing up on the side of the leader's head. Over Kendra's way, she can be seen following through on the throw, looking ready to run if they turn and fire on her.

Dick dares to glance Kendra's way, and seeing her frozen like the rest of the crowd, he silently sighs to himself. That's what he gets for trusting... And the glass explodes on the gang leaders head. Seizing on the opportunity, as the men training guns on him turn to look at Mr. Bossman, then turning to fire into the crowd to get at Kendra. Dual identities be damned, he needed Nightwing now, neither Dick the club hopper or Officer Greyson was going to cut it. With Kendra drawing their attention, the man, grips the shoulders of the thug in front of him, and leaps up and over, summersaulting neatly to land behind the man. Spinning while crouched, he lashes out with a leg, and drops the man to the ground, suprised but unhurt. A deft few fingers on his own belt and when he moves to throw, it's the steel belt buckle leading the way into the other man's face. But still, he's just bruised, and now pissed., but their attention is back on Dick now, both with automatic weapons.

That was a bad idea. Kendra's going to get shot now and she isn't wearing anything that would protect her from it, not even wings to protectively guard herself with. That's what she gets for not just staying out of it. The words Batman told her a few days ago about picking fights without knowing whether or not someone had a gun pop up in the back of her head. How right he was. Fortunately Grayson's acting further, drawing attention back his way. Against her better judgment, Kendra decides she's got to do something else so /he/ doesn't get shot, if for no other reason than to find out afterward why he was looking at her the way he was. She ducks past a few crouching patrons huddling together, too afraid to move, and she uses the bar for a bit of extra cover. It's only a few seconds at the most before she's seen again, coming from one side of a gunman with a hard right thrown at his jaw before swinging down at his gun hand with a chop. "Kyaaah!"

Dick perks up. He KNEW it! That cry is one of the more distinctive of the masked community. But.. wasn't she dead? But he's got much more immediate problems. With both men recovering from his initial assault, Nightwing emerges in full, minus the mask, armored bodysuit or tech toys. Dick leaps up into the standing thugs very suprised face, checking him with an extended knee to the chin. Rolling as he lands beyond the man, he doesn't even pause, rolling up to a running position. But the bar is just a few feet away. Long years of hard fought combat have taught him well. A foot up on the bar, and a hard kick off sends him airborne, even as the machine pistol in the hands of the prone thug barks and stutters, several rounds perforating the bar under Dick. Tucking into a twisting spin, he lands on the floor facing the prone man and lunges, sliding across the dance floor, his foot finding the man's groin and well.. lets hope he already has kids as he won't be having any now. "Sorry pal.. I know that hurt." He rattles off, flipping to his feet in search of his next target. Kendra dropped the man by the door, leaving... the Boss. Who is now pointing a shotgun in vry close proximity.. at Dick's chest. No dodging that. "Uhm.. I give up?" He asks, hands comeing up again, and hoping Kendra has a .. something to prevent him from being shot.

It's all wrong. No, it's right. She shouldn't be doing this, getting involved in the middle of a potential massacre without weapons of her own, yet so far Kendra's making a difference. Stunning the one she punched, she finishes him off with a hard kick snapped at his temple, as if her body just knows where to direct it. Down he goes and finally the bloody boss is left with Dick in a compromised position. Now what? There's not enough time to grab another glass and go for a repeat performance, but..ah. He's really not far away and as Dick tries to buy himself some time there's a click behind the leader, the end of the other thug's gun prodding the small of his back. "You pull that trigger and we'll see if you ever walk again." It's a female's voice, Kendra's.

Dick winces, as though she were shoving the gun in his back. Yep.. defitately her. The boss turns to look at who's got a gun on him now.. a supposedly easy mark all gone wrong. As he turns though, Dick lunges forward, seizing the barrel of the mossberg and forcing it up high. A deafening boom cracks off, a buckshot round punching into the ceiling, and raining small debris on people. Twisting the weapon out of the man's hands, then back around, Dick clubs him in the side of the head with the stock, dropping him before Kendra has a chance to. Hopefully. Then once more, the weapon falls apart in his hands. A quick look around tells him that noone is hurt except the assailants, and apart from a few bullet holes here and there.. place doesn't look too bad. Usually looks worse after a fight.

And it's clearing out fast as people beat feet to safety. Kendra steps back out of the way as Dick finishes things, dropping the gun before she has to use it. Would she have? It might be a good thing nobody had to find out. The important thing is the threat gave him the opening he needed. She flinches away from the boom of the shotgun, grimacing as she turns away to shield her head just in case, more steps taken to put some room between Dick and her.

With the situation more or less wrapped up, Officer Greyson takes over. "Relax folks.. it's all over.." Normally he'd be demanding that people stick around, to answer questions when the cops get here, but he's already here. That, and the less people able to attribute his skills to his face.. the better. "I'm a police officer, everyone just calm down." He calls out, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a badge out. But his attentions turn toward Kendra. "Thanks for the assist, Ms...?"

Oh, great. It's a cop. Well, that saves having to wait around for them to show up, no doubt about it. Kendra's waiting to see what else is going to happen when he asks for her name along with showing his appreciation, leaving her to hesitate for a moment as she looks like she'd rather be somewhere else. "Yeah..no problem. It's Saunders, or Kendra. Look, I wasn't really going to shoot him. I was just trying to get his attention away from you." So she says, but there's still something a bit odd about her. She showed some skill not everyone has, but the attitude isn't quite right.

Dick folds the wallet with the badge in it, but doesn't tuck it away. "I know.. you did the right thing, and that's what matters in the end." He reassures her. "Those were some impressive moves Ms. Saunders. If you don't mind, where'd you pick them up? Not many average club hoppers could take down a guy packing heat like that and not walk away with a few extra holes in them."

Kendra is a contrast right now, a combination of someone who has the skill to be more than she seems, but the demeanor that suggests something different is going on, akin to an uncertain reluctance struggling with the mindset of someone used to these kinds of things. "I know. I couldn't just do nothing," she explains, gesturing toward the downed thugs. "And let them get away with it. I..picked some things up along the way, some from my grandfather."

Dick knows she's hiding something, knows it just as surely as he knew she'd step in. Call it instinct or just experience dealing with masks and thugs alike. A soft smile and he lets it go as he has a feeling he'll be seeing her again. "Course. If you like, you can leave Ms. Saunders.. I can wrap things up here." He says, looking back toward the door as sirens begin to be heard.

Only there's more to it Dick doesn't know yet, things he may perhaps find out about sooner or later. She almost /didn't/ step in before it was too late, and that alone is a big clue. Leaving sounds good to her now, the mood for clubbing now in the past - for tonight. "Right, of course. Uh, glad I could help and things. See you around, maybe." She moves to exit the back way, avoiding being out in front when other members of law enforcement get there.

(News Post)

CLUB ROBBERY FOILED

A small club in Bludhaven was the site of a failed robbery attempt.

A regular night at Club 90s was interrupted when a group of gunmen burst in through a back door and announced a robbery was taking place. Patrons scattered as a shot was fired before one of them, off-duty police officer Dick Grayson, engaged the robbers as a fight broke out.

He was assisted by an unknown woman, alleged to have thrown a glass at the head gunman before disarming another with a punch, and together the two were able to subdue the would-be robbers without injury to any of the customers, though another shot was reported before the end of it. By the time detectives arrived on the scene, Grayson explained she had been allowed to leave.

Without this turn of good fortune, chances are the night would have ended much differently for those there.