My friend Bea has a way with words

[_black_canary_]

I'll give you a f'rinstance. When I gave her her new laptop, the ultraslim ultramodern ultra-ultra-everything one Oracle put together for her, Bea hit a note only dogs can hear and called me "Santa." Then there was a lot of Portuguese, and I only know enough to order my favorite drink and understand when someone's saying, "Kill her!"

That's "

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[flame_of_green]

She's pacing a path in the carpet of the hotel they've checked into in Vegas. Choice phrases in Portuguese flow from her mouth like heartfelt prayers from a revered nun. Ok maybe that's stretching the realm of disbelief. The things she's saying are far from sacred.

She stops in front of Dinah, making an overly-dramatic gesture of impatience.

"Tell me again, why we aren't out talking to my contacts and getting that stupid parte de carne quente back before they put a bullet into the back of his head?!"

[_black_canary_]

"Because the tracker is still working? Oooh, technology."

[flame_of_green]

She mouths the words "Oooh, technology" with a mocking expression and wobble of her head before returning to her pacing.

A few moments pass before she's stopped in front of Dinah again.

"How do you know it just hasn't fallen off or they found it or something equally possible?!"

[sexy_huntress]

Huntress is standing -- as always -- with her arms folded, an impatient and surly look on her face. "Because it has a unique body heat sensor. If it falls off, it lets us know."

[jla_extras]

One thing that's always true about Las Vegas is it never stops growing. Already filled to capacity more people come here every day and they must have somewhere to live. Or in some cases someplace to make more money from those that will be living here.

The tracer leads them to the construction site of the new Seven Seas casino and hotel. Not to be opened until 2009 it's filled with large holes and empty spaces where someone inconvenient can be left and not discovered for a long time if ever.

There are three sets of tracks leading them into the pit that will one day be a parking garage. Two that are normal and one that is being dragged reluctantly between them. The sun is over the horizon and the heat is starting to leach out of the air when the source of the trails are spotted.

One man on his knees, and two with guns are in the center of the open space.

[_black_canary_]

The Canary parks her cycle half a block away, in the shadow of the construction trailer, and takes point, narrowing her eyes at what she sees. "We've got guns. Fire, don't shoot. I think these guys have itchy trigger fingers."

[flame_of_green]

"Dammit!"

Regardless of her display of impatience earlier, she seems fairly calm now, outwardly. She's got her own experience in waiting out a mark.

[arch_rogue]

He looks up at the two with the guns with a faint smirk on his face.

"What, no last meal? No last request? What kind of execution is this?"

[arch_rogue]

"What took you so long green hair?" He had managed to get to his feet and stumble to the side with Bea's help.

Shrugging one shoulder and rotating his hands to get his lockpick in hand Cris opens the cuffs and tosses them on the ground.

"I don't think I'll be needing those."

[flame_of_green]

"YOU are such an ass!"

With that, she grabs him by the front of the shirt and pulls him in for a nice, deep hello.

[arch_rogue]

He laughs quietly when she lets him up for air.

"Nice to see you too. Guess your friends decided I wasn't Jack the Ripper after all?"

[sexy_huntress]

Huntress's boot pushes the mobster over on his back. "The jury's still out."