Cop Central

Summary:
December 21, 2014: A police party, eyes in the sky, and more.

NYC

Somewhere in Little Italy…


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
None


Constantine sits on a rooftop, legs dangling out over the street. He is idly flicking gravel at cars passing a few stories down. "For christ sake, you didn't tell me stakeouts were this /boring/," Constantine complains, looking skyward and directing his ire at the woman more tactically clinging to the shadows a pace behind him. The Brit is making no effort to hide himself, and cranes his neck around to look at Kate. "We've been out here half the bloody night. You said this would take an hour, tops." He reaches into his pocket for his flask and goes to take a sip, then upends it with a grimace, to no avail. "Blimey, and I'm out of scotch. Not good juju working an angle like this with me stone sober," Constantine advises Kate, reaching for his valise nearby and shifting it a few inches closer. "I get a bit less accurate with my aim when I'm off my kip."

*

"I'm scheduling you an intervention," Kate informs Constantine. They're not far from a small, local ballroom space in Little Italy, where a local precinct of the NYPD is holding an award ceremony for a retiring detective. They're cops. Surely they can handle their own security. But with another message out on the web from the mirror woman, Kate is both protective of the men in blue, and hoping for a chance to catch the woman who killed her friend. Temporarily, at least. She let Clint know her plans before she went out for the night, but she didn't really wait for a response before heading out.

"And there's no booze at interventions. Not that kind of party."

*

How long has it been..? It doesn't matter. Domino still doesn't care for this city. The last time she had been here several groups were all hunting her down, some trying to make the catch while others were trying to make the kill. Fleeing the Tri-City area had worked for a while but ultimately it led to other complications. Her luck may be able to work miracles but it cannot make the impossible possible.

Which means she had to come back. So much for playing the odds.

"And tonight just keeps getting better," she mutters with a sigh while scouting the area from another rooftop (what are the odds!) with a pair of fancy imagers. Is..that a herd of New York's finest down there? Why yes, yes it is. "Five minutes back in the city and I'm already neck deep in pork."

This is going to affect her travel plans. Ever so slightly. She's pretty sure the warrant for her arrest didn't disappear when she did.

*

Stakeouts don't bother the 'other' Hawkeye. If anything, they're far preferred than having to do mad dashes all over creation; leaping up to catch the bottom rungs of fire-escapes, climbing hand over hand in order to swing up and over and onto roof-tops. Sure, it can be done, but fun?

It's not hard to find at least one of the 'pair', just look for the guy that looks out of place on the roof of a building overlooking an event that is brimming with cops and guns. And then there's Kate.

"You know, she used to complain about stakeouts too, until she saw how much better it was to be high rather than low." Okay, it's a lesson Clint is still trying to teach her. In hand, there's a thermos of coffee with the markings of a local coffee shop; in the other hand, a black plastic valise that Kate, at least, would recognize as the case for his 'weapon of choice'.

Clint is just getting there, using this moment as just a little more training, and he looks at Constantine before he nods his greeting.
"Hey."

*

"Piss on that, darling," Constantine scoffs. "You can go find yourself another mage to work up those handy little toys you're so fond of- and you can watch my well-toned arse walking off into the sunset while you're at it," he says, scoffing.

At that moment Clint arrives and Constantine looks over his shoulder at the man. "Oh, friend of yours? There's a good chap- refill right here," Constantine says, waggling his empty disposable coffeecup at Clint as he spots the the thermos. If anyone's spotted Domino yet, it's not John, apparently.

*

"Not that well-toned," Kate smirks back at the mage, tipping her chin up at Clint with a grin as the other archer arrives. "Hey, Clint. Clint, this is Constantine. Constantine, this is Clint. Hawkeye the elder. Constantine's a…" She pauses, looking over at the mage. "Wizard, sort of? Exorcist. Magic dude, but not one of the ones who's inherently magic. Alchemist?" She reaches for a pocket, considering. "What's on the business card?"

*

"Left back pocket, luv," Constantine says, getting to his feet. "Right next to that shapely derriere. At ease there, Hawkeye Senior," Constantine says, bumbling a salute at Clint. "Here, I'm going to get some shuteye in House. Wake me when something happens, eh?" And Constantine opens the rooftop door- which should be shut- and it opens onto a massive Victorian-era parlour lit by a fireplace, which is just patently absurd. And the door slams behind him and Constantine vanishes, along with the firelight.

*

(You realize this could work to your advantage, right? If most of these kids are down here that means they aren't patrolling the rest of the city.)

"Yeah, except that I'll still have to go several blocks out of my way just to get around their merry blue shindig," Domino mutters in response to her own thoughts.

The imagers are lowered slightly as she looks around with unaided eyes. Failing to see any useful difference she goes right back to using the fancy tech a moment later. "Two blocks if I want to brush whiskers, three if I want to burn more time. Or I could just cut right through the middle of it." Given her ability, it's a definite option.

The clock's ticking, which means she needs to make a decision. The albino stands upright and lowers the imagers, frowning slightly as the cold wind whips her chopped black hair around.

"Shoulda stayed in 'Frisco."

*

"Pfft. Get your own. First rule of stake-outs. It's never as short as you think it'll be, so be prepared. You know, like a Boy Scout. Or something."

Clint sets his thermos down by his case and with a *click*, opens it up to reveal his 'baby'. Blinky lights and all. And a couple of arrows that lie in the case with it. With a quick shake of his hand, the bow forms completely and it looks to come 'online'.

Settling down in that spot that is half-shadow and half-dimly lit, Clint's brows rise though he keeps a reasonably professional mien. (Yes, yes, g-man.) "Hey. Heard your name before. Figured I'd-"

With Constantine excusing himself, however, Clint's gaze moves, following him before he looks back at Kate. "Something I said?"

Still, the archer sets up and settles in for a watch, checking the rooftops, "All clear on top-" and his voice drops. "Goddammit.."

Up comes the bow, and Clint pulls one of his 'regular' arrows from a spot behind him, and in a single nock, pull and release, it's sent flying across the street and down a ways, landing right before Domino, only a scant couple of inches from actually striking her. "Someone is back in town."

*

"I threatened him with an intervention," Kate grimaces at Clint's question. "He's kind of sensitive about the drinking thing. Coping mechanism." She shifts from her spot, taking a closer look down toward the banquet hall when Clint fires that arrow. One finger rises to tap at the side of her glasses, and she wrinkles her nose as Domino comes into focus. "Did you do something to get another hit put out on you? Again?"

*

*TWRRRR*

"That didn't take long," Domino remarks as the arrow embeds itself beside the statue-still woman. There's only one person (okay, maybe two people) with the motivation to fire a warning -arrow- her way simply because she happens to be nearby, which means that if they wanted to hit her the second arrow would have already found its mark.

So, it's with another drawn-out breath that she puts the imagers away and removes one of her pistols and a suppressor can, making no effort to hide the fact that she's threading one onto the other. Slow…and…deliberate. It also gives her a little time to follow the arrow's flight path back to its source.

Her motions are anything but slow (though still deliberate) when she snaps her weapon out at arm's length. The suppressor does its job, there's no flash and a delayed audial response that's faint in the night air. What comes to greet the pair of archers much sooner is a .45 caliber slug smacking into part of the rooftop. Right next to Clint.

Hey, yourself.

*

"'Yeah, but 'at ease Hawkeye senior'?" Clint shrugs it off as one of the many unanswered questions of the universe. The bow is down once again, and he reaches out for the coffee carafe with one hand, still watching the goings on. Blue eyes are narrowed with each movement the albino makes.

"Nah, not to my knowledge. I'd like to think she's going to give me a heads up before she comes in to kill me."

There is no noise from the weapon, not even a little *pop* for the bullet in breaking the sound barrier. The dust *pfffffs* from the bullet embedding into a spot very close to Clint serves as its greeting. Remarkably, Clint doesn't flinch (much). If she wanted to kill him, she could have. Messages have been sent.

"Things with Madripoor died down a little, so pretty sure they're not going to try and pull me off the streets again." And here's Clint talking as if a bullet didn't just embed near him as he pulls the top of his coffee carafe off, revealing steaming caffeine goodness. Crouching next to his protege, he's got his bow on his lap and a couple of arrows near him.

"What about you? Anyone take a shot at you lately because of your investigations? Haven't heard back from Oracle, yet."

*

Kate eyes the bullet mark in the rooftop, then arches a brow at Clint. "Slept with her, did you?"

She shrugs at the other question, shaking her head. "No one's after me, that I can see. I'm sort of hoping the mirror woman tries to make a move here. I want to see if this charm I got from Constantine works. And put her down, fast." There's an awkward pause, and she clears her throat. "I think someone - or something - brought Damian back."

*

Message sent, message received. Dom has no further reason to hang around, especially now that she knows at least one familiar face has already clocked her return to the city. Her current business has nothing to do with him, or his protege. So far. With any luck it will stay that way.

Knowing these people, it won't.

She's the first to break eye contact, falling back into motion as the weapon is tucked away beneath the trench once more. So long as the two bow snipers leave her to it she'll disappear over the edge of her chosen rooftop, off to do god knows what and where.

*

"What? Why is it…?" Clint begins before he simply stops trying and exhales in a long suffering sigh. "Not every female I know wants to kill me." There's a pause before, "Kate."

Oh, hey… there's coffee.

Watching as Domino begins to pack up, he's got his attention split three ways. Kate's words, however, brings him completely around. "You're what? Trying to be bait? What the hell, Kate? Haven't we gone over this more than a couple of times in the past? You're not bait. You're up here, watching so you can shoot their ass. Not have them come after you first." Shifting in his crouch, he's up close and personal, "And I just met the guy. You think that little thing is going to protect you while he's watching your," and here, he's got airquotes going on, "'shapely little ass'?"

A barked exhale escapes as Clint gets himself back together, and he's got his gaze leveled on the other archer. "That's a death wish, Katie."

Speaking of death, however, Clint gets sidetracked with, 'brought Damian back'. "What?" Oh, jeez. Merry Christmas? "What exactly do you mean. As in, animating a dead body, or zombie.. or is the guy walking around again AFTER we buried him?"

*

"I'm not the bait," Kate protests. "I'm up here on the rooftop with an anti-scrying amulet, dummy. They're the bait." She points down toward the banquet hall, grimacing as she does. "And not even really bait. They're just something I figure she'd see as a good target, so I'm making sure they can celebrate a decorated officer in peace, okay?"

And as the rest of the questions come, she's suddenly very invested in watching the area around the banquet hall. "He showed up at the apartment last night," she answers, clearly still torn on the matter. "New costume. Said his grandfather brought him back. He was…" She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Not all there, I don't think. Like maybe some of him got left behind. Or someone was trying to control him."

*

(Continues…)


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