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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"Why don't you take a seat," Bane indicated that the stool next to him. He could see a couple of older teens, who had seen the girl's display, were coming over. Bane sent them a cold glare, which was enough to convince the boys to find fun elsewhere. He ordered a glass of water and placed it in front of the girl.
"Where are you from?" Bane didn't immediately address her age and appearance. He didn't want to risk angering her and causing her to flee. This would have to be handled carefully if he was going to help her.
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"Uh.. around." she replies and then adds a hasty lie, "I uh..came here with friends."
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He spotted another older teen making his way toward the girl. Bane glared at the man-child, who pointedly made his way elsewhere. 'Dios, this is a den of wolves.'
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"Uh, no..I'm cool, I.."
Then her eyes become wary and a little childish and petulant.
"Hey, are you a cop?"
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The bouncer mutters that the scrawny turd is a dealer, and leaves the new guy (that would be Bane) to deal with the mess. The drug pusher starts to scrabble away upon seeing the size of who he's up against.
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He doesn't bother trying to get to his feet. "Not tonight though. Or the last week. My action's being all taken up by dealers who treat it as more of a profession than a hobby, if you catch my meaning. You can hardly tell them apart from the rest of this crowd of schmucks."
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He points across the dance floor at a middle-aged man with greying hair, in a dark business suit. "He's got contacts with them, that's for sure. His name's Blakely."
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Normally he may have approached Blakely for "work", bur he felt he couldn't just abandon the girl to whatever undoubtedly cruel fate that would befall her here. He looked back at her.
"Is that why you're here?" No judgement in his voice, simply a question.
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Bane's question and return of his focus onto her results in something perhaps unexpected but very natural. The little girl burst into tears.
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