Full Tilt

[jla_extras]

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

Comments

[tim_drake_robin]

Tim finds a seat on a chrome stool that's been articulated with glowing firewire. It provides him a good view of the main dancefloor bellow.

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.

Maybe he was trying too hard. He wondered how Seph and Connor were doing. There hadn't been any commotion, nor a distress signal. not that he could think of anything here that would put Superboy or Spoiler in a real bind.

Tim let out a sigh of slight exasperation and watched the throng bellow.

[jla_villains]

"Excuse me young man," a middle-aged gent wearing a charcoal coloured suit stands at the bar beside Drake, and gestures to the barman for a refill of his cola as he speaks to the young man, "you wouldn't happen to be one of those awful drug-addled youths, would you?"

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."

[tim_drake_robin]

Tim offers a bleary eye. He repeatedly changes the focus of his eyes between the man and the stairway thirty feet directly behind him, mimicking the behavior of pupils influenced by psychoactives.

"Yeah, that's me. Special." a subtle hint of self-loathing mixed with narcissistic arrogance crafted into his tone.

[jla_villains]

"No, you really are." The man, who must be in his late 40s, laughs in a good-natured manner. "You're a cut above the rest of these users. No plain old crack or smack for you, I'll bet."

He rests his back on the bar and casts his glance over Tim from head to toe. "What are you drinking?"

[tim_drake_robin]

He squints at the glass.

"Wow, hey. I don't remember."

Opps. He accidentally knocks the glass over as he reaches for it.

"Heh." he grins dumbly.

"Guess I need a new one."

[jla_villains]

"Please, allow me." The man grabs Tim's wrist tightly, yet not aggressively, and rights the glass. He raises a hand and another drink is brought over.

"You'll like this one. It's a special of mine. Vodka, lemonade, fresh mango juice, a touch of schnapps, and a hint of something extra. It'll blow your mind, I can assure you." He smiles and hands the drink to young Mr. Drake.

[i_am_bane]

As the two converse, a large, mountain of a man approaches them.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Blakely?" Bane sees the youth and for a brief instant his eyes widen in recognition. He composes himself quickly before the older man can see him. 'Well, there goes my plan to break this dog's spine.' A variety of curses in a variety of languages go through Bane's mind, but outwardly he's the epitome of composure. Even with his hair and the mustache, he doubted it would be enough to fool Drake, so he might as well try and make the best of the situation.

[tim_drake_robin]

Bane. Wow. That was a twist. Tim keeps his cool however and his act is uninterrupted.

The huge man's arrival into the scene actually is useful, I causes the shady fellow proffering Tim a drink to look away for a moment. Tim uses the opportunity to slosh a hefty amount of the drink over the railing unseen. Too bad for those bellow, but in this place it'll go unmentioned. He allows his index finger to get wettened by the drink as he does and then retrieves what looks like a smart phone from his pocket. His finger comes in contact with a plate on the back of the device that is designed to preform chemical analysis on substances it comes in contact with. Tim pretends to be texting, as many of his generation rabidly do, while looking at what the spectrometer tells him about what was in the drink. He needs to be able to act accordingly.

[jla_villains]

Blakely closes his eyes and brings his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, pinching it in frustration as Bane interrupts his conversation with the charming young man.

"Indeed." Blakely turns to look at the big man, and raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

[i_am_bane]

Bane's look is cold, professional, at least to cover his own annoyance at the man's disgusting intentions.

"My name's Tito Alvarez. I'm looking for more..profitable employment than what this facility can provide. It's my understanding that you're a part of a group of gentlemen who are making waves lately."

[tim_drake_robin]

"Whoah.." Tim slurs. He gets up and stands a bit wobbilly. The hint of a disoriented grin sneaking into his features. He's got a pretty good idea of how this stuff should be hitting him, so he's got a convincing show going.

"I uh... I need to use the bathroom..."

he stumbles off.

Roofies for teenagers. Man, talk about scumbags.

[i_am_bane]

Bane spares a glance at the retreating Drake. 'Like Wayne,' Bane mused. The boy could have been a sucessful actor. Bane contemplated how he would have to alter his plans as he turned his attention back to Blakely.

[jla_villains]

Blakely drums his fingers on the bar as he looks at Bane's muscular body.

"While I am a member of a group with certain influences, I can't think of a use for brawn. Well, not for the organisation anyway." He smiles a thin flirty smile at Bane, admiring the man's biceps.

"The question is, do you have a brain to go with that body? Or do you need to take a trip to Oz with the Scarecrow to fill that head of yours?" His eyes glisten in the light from the mirror ball.

[i_am_bane]

Bane resisted the urge to cave in the little vermin's face. He reminded Bane far too much of the wretches that haunted his adolescence in Santa Prisca. Still, he was careful not to let any of that show. He saw a notepad and pen on the table and quickly picked up. In less than a minute he wrote down a few basic and several more complicated drug formulas and sat it back down in front of Blakely.

"Does that answer your question, jefe?"

[jla_villains]

The man adjusts his glasses, reads the pad, and actually nods with appreciation. "Why, you are quite the little scientist. More than just a lunk with a meth lab. Some of these these formulae could go towards making that drug called venom that we're always hearing so much about..."

He smiles, and holds out a hand for you to shake. He talks through clenched teeth. "Just keep looking at my face. There's a vial of something you should try in my palm. Try it and you pass the test."

[i_am_bane]

Of course Bane had anticipated this. Before he spoke with Blakely, Bane had innoculated himself with a chemical of his own design. It should fight the drug's addictive properties. Bane knew the drug's symptoms and knew he could adequately simulate its affects.

After retrieving the vial, Bane takes a sample, albeit inwardly reluctant. The innoculation works, but he can still feel a distinct buzzing in his head. The stuff was powerful, he can only imagine what it would have felt like unfiltered.

Bane gives a slight shake of his head, as if he were trying to clear something from it. "Potent stuff."