The place is technically a private party as far as the law is concerned. The people at the door know what they are doing and it makes it virtually impossible for officers of the law to get in. Combined with an insufficient GCPD budget, the recent invasion and numerous other problems that plague the city's services, what lies behind the door is
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He quickly made his decision and went to the nearby bar and sat on a stool. He turned his head a little in her direction, a neutral expression on his face. Smiling may make him appear as a solicitor. When he spoke it was in a mild, but not overly friendly tone.
"You look lost, chiquita. Are you looking for someone?"
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"Uhh.. yeah. Maybe you can, you know..."
She licks her lips.
"Help me get my head together? you know?"
Bane's trained eye notes the rapid pulse in the vein at her throat. The girl is clearly out of her depth.
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The gauzy drapings the served as visual barriers between the booths added both to the ambiance and to plausible deniability. Indistinct figures lounged here and there. Some singularly, most in groups. The scent of clove smoke was hinted here, despite the efficiency of the ventilation system.
A powerfully build boy brooded in a booth near the edge of the railed platform. His manner seemed to put off interest by others. Perhaps he was in a mood, or perhaps it was just difficult for him to socialize well in this environment. In either case, he sat alone as he slowly nursed a conspicuously nonalcoholic drink.
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A man in his early twenties accompanied by a trio of girls, all decked out in shimmering club gear have stopped by Connor's table.
"Tara here was wondering if you wanted to dance."
He lifts his chin to the thin blond in the trio. She smiles coyly, as if shy.
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Superboy, master of the glib tongue. Not.
Images of Cassie kicking his ass, the girl's ass, and Robin's ass, comes to mind.
"I'm um..."
He nods over to Tim, who is tearing it up with a group of club kids on the dance floor.
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A number of young men, and a few young ladies, are all very interested in either buying her a drink or getting her onto the dance floor, or both. There are also a number of jealous looks , but they are from afar. Steph's life experience communicates a level of confidence that few teens posses. In short, she commands attention.
Some of that attention comes from fellow in his late twenties. He has a more polished and casual approach than the more fawning attempts of Steph's more youthful 'fans'. His outfit is well cultivated for the scene and he clearly knows the place and is comfortable in it.
"Hi, sorry to bug you but aren't you the model from the cover of Gotham Vogue? The Summer edition from last year?"
The publication he's referencing is a fairly high end fashion catalog.
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"Well damn, you should be a model. I know a bunch of talent scouts in the business, if you're ever interested. In fact, they're having a mixer tomorrow night at Gotham Tower Penthouses if you'd like to meet them."
He offers a card with an address written on the back.
"I know they'd like to meet you, that's for sure."
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He's managed to spill most of his drink here and there surreptitiously. That and clever affectations to his body language made for a convincing cover that he was really knocking back the alcohol.
He never realized that it would be so hard to get amoral club dealers to offer him drugs. He's rubbed elbows with the 'right' people, lived up to the playboy image that would make Bruce look stodgy, thrown money around, demonstrated a shallow and self centered moral character, blah blah blah. Sure he had LOTS of new 'friends' now, but no one so far has even hinted towards an offer of doing anything illicit recreationaly ( ... )
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He tips his head and looks at Tim, adjusting his spectacles. "Ah no, you clearly have your faculties intact. Well good for you, I say. Nothing wrong with standing out among the idiot crowd."
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"Yeah, that's me. Special." a subtle hint of self-loathing mixed with narcissistic arrogance crafted into his tone.
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He rests his back on the bar and casts his glance over Tim from head to toe. "What are you drinking?"
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The roof of the building across the street from the club sports a water tower a few large blocks of venting machinery and a number of gargoyles. Gotham is replete with ornate and Gothic architecture.
Robin alights on the roof, reeling his grappling line back in. It;s good to be outside again and back in uniform.
How does Bruce put up with that? undercover wasn't hard, but this tour sure left him feeling skeeved.
Opening a comm line he sends a signal out to Steph and Connor, letting them know he was at the rendezvous point.
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"About a week ago, I barely managed to save a local teen from dying from a lethal dose of a new designer drug called 'Blur'. Spoiler and I tracked the source to the Club. I've been working an undercover angle to try and get closer to the distributor, so we can take this operation down at the root."
He gives the huge man a sidelong look.
"How did you get involved?"
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