Black Canary

"For the record? My boyfriend would hate the idea of the two of us hanging out. Which means, obviously, that I need to make you my new best friend." MJ beamed, pumping her eyebrows in shared mischief before leaning back against the cracked leather of her seat in their quiet corner booth. "I mean if Babs vouches for you that's good enough for me, but you know how those superhero types can be. I don't think there's anything I could do to get him to stop worrying, short of sitting home covered in bubble wrap. And even then he'd probably find some way to fret that I was choking on it, poor guy. It's actually really cute, how obsessed he is with me. I mean if a man's not willing to fist fight the gods for your relationship then what's the point, you know?"

Dinah barked out a laugh and lifted her glass in salute. "Okay, first of all? That's a dangerously convincing sales pitch." She pointed at MJ with the rim of her drink. "Second, if your boyfriend's already decided I'm a bad influence, I feel like I owe it to both of us to live up to the reputation." The smile softened slightly.

"Always  the  charmer.'  Selina  purred  as  she  took  the  seat.

       Was  she  in  the  process  of  creating  an  alibi  for  later  on  in  the  evening?  Maybe.  Was  she  genuinely  pleased  to  see  Dinah,  absolutely  sort  of.  Ordering  a  Brandy  Alexander,  Selina  watched  the  bartender  make  it  before  turning  and  setting  her  elbows  on  the  bar  top.  The  pose  arched  her  back,  parted  fabric,  exposed  a  lot  of  skin.

       Give  them  something  to  look  at,  start  a  ruckus,  dip  out  while  everyone  was  having  a  very  loud  good  time,  circle  back.  It  was  a  very  easy  way  to  make  sure  she  wasn't  immediately  suspected  f  she  didn't  want  to  be.  Dinah  was  a  bit  of  a  complication...

"That look means one of two things." What a surprise, Selina would choose to sit with her. Not a friend, nor an enemy - let's call their relationship as complicated. Like old couples. They've crossed paths so many times, sometimes on the same side, others times figthing one another. Dinah tapped the rim of her glass, thoughtful.

"Either you're about to ask me for a favor, or Gotham's about to wake up missing something expensive." She welcomed her with a grin, a tilt of her head, knowing that she had read her perfectly, "I give you two seconds to not lie to me, that shouldn't be that hard."

When Dinah finally approached her table, Pepper measured her with a swift gaze. Having run a global empire for years, she could read people in a matter of seconds, and the blonde standing before her carried the undeniable, dangerous poise of a natural fighter. The redhead didn't flinch under Canary's sharp stare, which was undoubtedly trying to judge whether this New York girl was just another rich socialite in over her head. Pep simply gestured with an elegant movement of her hand to the empty seat opposite her, opening the meeting with a quiet, entirely composed authority.

"Miss Lance, thank you for coming. I know you aren't accustomed to dealing with people from my world, and frankly, I am not used to yours," she began, her voice smooth, yet carrying an exhausted urgency in the depths of her eyes. She placed an encrypted data file on the scarred wooden table, sliding it forward to the other woman. "Someone in this district is utilizing our old logistics routes to smuggle weapons, and the people I pay to prevent that are looking away all too easily. I was told Black Canary has a weakness for protecting those who can't fight back, and I am running out of options in this city that won't trigger an international scandal. So tell me -- how much do you know about the people operating right under your nose?"

Dinah's gaze dropped briefly to the data file, but she didn't touch it. Not yet. Instead, she slid into the booth across from Pepper, the worn leather creaking beneath her weight. Up close, the contrast between them was almost comical—one looked like she'd stepped out of a boardroom overlooking Manhattan, the other like she'd just walked out of a bar fight she happened to win.

The thing was, Dinah knew better than most that appearances lied. "First mistake?" she said, her voice calm. "Assuming they're operating under my nose." Her eyes lifted to Pepper's. "New York's a big place. Gotham's worse. You can spend twenty years kicking in doors and still discover somebody's been running guns three blocks from your apartment."

Finally, she pulled the file toward herself. "But if they're using routes that belong to Stark Industries, that's not some neighborhood crew moving stolen pistols out of a van." She opened the file, scanning the first few pages. "That's organized. Funded. Protected." A humorless smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "And protection is usually where things get interesting."

Dinah looked back up. "You say your people are looking away. That tells me one of two things. Either somebody's paying them enough to forget what they're seeing..." She tilted her head slightly.

The second possibility hung between them. Dinah had spent enough time around criminals, mercenaries, and intelligence agencies to know fear was often the more expensive currency.

"What I know is that weapons don't move through dock districts without somebody noticing. Longshoremen notice. Bartenders notice. Union reps notice. The guy sweeping the warehouse floor notices."

She leaned back against the booth. "The question isn't who knows. It's who's still alive and willing to talk." For the first time, genuine curiosity crossed her expression.

"So why me, Pepper?"

Not Miss Pots. Pepper. "You've got lawyers. Private security. Intelligence contacts. Probably a dozen superheroes who'd answer your call before breakfast." Her blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Yet you're sitting in a dive bar asking a street-level vigilante for help. That tells me there's a part of this story you're not putting on the table yet."

Dinah folded her arms.

As soon as the class was over, Matt turned around to gather his things. As usual, his plan had been to immediately bolt to the roof to change into his suit, but something stopped him— or rather, someone.

He frowned as she stopped next to him, unsure if she was one of his students. Admittedly, he hadn't put any effort into recognizing most of them— the good news is that being blind absolves him from that sort of thing anyway.

It's been forever since Dinah hadn't entered college - for the sole reason that she never went to university actually. The only class remotely close she had attended was Helena's in order to help you but they were kids & teens.

She had waited for the class to finish to enter the room, letting the students hurry out, running past her, just like their teacher was about to do. She sat on the nearer desk, nonchalantly on her chair, she tapped her fingers on top of it to notify her presence. Dinah had observed him for quite a few weeks now, she knew his secret. & he didn't surprise her when he acknowledged her presence. A smirk though, that he couldn't see, rose upon her pink lips.

"I don't know. You're making it sound like getting a minute of your time requires an appointment. Should I have called ahead?"

OLYMPIA PHOTO STUDIO THANKS YOU FOR YOUR PREFERENCE, MS. @sonicanary ! So… Did you see Roy lately? Asking for a friend.

ADAPTATION WAS KEY, SOMETHING THE STAR OF WONDER WAS RATHER GOOD AT BESIDES MATCHING IN SYNC. Invitations are extended and usually cordial as per say, however this one seemed to be a long time coming once being properly introduced to the the already assembled team, somehow a female knitt together she had only experienced back at the Paradise Island. Barbara, or rather the infamous Oracle, had gathered enough women to fufill the needs and Donna was the latest addition to the grandiousity of it all.

A couple of months past settling in she found herself partly at home, between the bonding with Babs and her furr child, little Oracle, that'd expanded and even embracing one Helena Bertinelli as casual drinking buddy every now and then after facing some relucctancy from the woman. Then, of course, there was Dinah Laurel Lance, Black Canary 𝄖 who was no strange to the greek princess at all. Donna was introduced to her a decade and something prior, if her memory served her right. Around the time she and Roy had first dated, before what would've been his first fall out with his father figure. Then a recurrance across his treatment, fighiting against his addiction, which Donna had been around and supporting ... Eventually the breakup came about, something that would happen with certain regularly throughout their attempts at trying again 𝄖 the timing never seemed right, until now, for nearly three years, they finally got to settle.

Something had happened over the last two months though, something Roy didn't quite explain fully, rather left it implied 𝄖 so it didn't take a genius to guess Oliver Queen had been probably involved once again.

Dinah had been turning the question over in her head for weeks, looking for the right moment and never quite finding it. Donna always seemed to be moving—between missions, between conversations, between people who needed something from her. Maybe that was why she'd kept putting it off.

Or maybe because she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the answer. At the mention of Roy, something tightened behind her ribs. Not pain exactly. Just an old ache she thought she'd gotten better at ignoring. Of course he was talking about the kids. For a second she could almost picture it: paint on the walls, Roy trying and failing to sound exasperated, the kind of domestic chaos that somehow suited him better than any rooftop stakeout ever had. It was a good life. Hard-earned.

Then Donna asked the question. What was it this time around? Dinah looked away first.

The training room suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than Donna's face. A humorless laugh escaped her. "God. That's the thing, isn't it? There's always a this time." Her arms folded across her chest, less defensive than thoughtful. "Nobody gets surprised anymore when Oliver and I blow up. People just start asking for the details."

She shook her head and let out a slow breath. "I don't even know where to start." Because where did you start with Oliver Queen? With the lies? The secrets? The fact that he could make you feel like the most important person in the world one minute and completely alone the next? With the years spent trying to convince herself that loving someone and being good for them were the same thing?

Her jaw tightened. "Roy's probably being vague because he doesn't want to get in the middle of it. Smart man."

A faint smile flickered there before disappearing. She finally met Donna's eyes. "You know what the worst part is ? " The question hung there for a moment. "It wasn't some huge betrayal this time. No city-ending crisis. No secret family. No world-shattering revelation."

Her voice had gone quieter now. "It was just me realizing I was tired." Tired of fighting. Tired of forgiving. Tired of waiting for things to become easier.

Dinah rubbed a hand across the back of her neck and looked away again. "I spent so long believing that if I loved him enough, if I was patient enough, eventually we'd stop breaking each other. Turns out wanting something isn't always enough."