New Gotham
Dinah Lance blondecanary
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New Gotham City, Saturday evening (later that night)
Continued from part 1 here.

When Dinah woke up, she was handcuffed to a bed, comm earrings and necklace missing, and her lower legs were beating out a steady rhythm of pain.

Creote came in for a minute; Dinah whispered what she thought of him in English, Spanish, what few Japanese curse words she knew, and every other swear word in every language she could dredge up. Her throat was too swollen to even think about the Canary Cry. When he put a hand over her mouth to make her quieter, she bit him. Which may not have been smart; trying to telepathically get into his head might have helped, for however long that could've lasted. With her gloves on and wrists cuffed, she hadn't a chance of grabbing anyone to try.

But it was really satisfying anyway. And he went away. For long enough for her to get very nervous.

"...she bites," she heard Creote complaining outside the door.

"And she's a biter, evidently," Savant said, sounding amused. "Now, I don't want either one of you upsetting her. Let me do that."






Savant

"Good morning, beloved! Hungry?" Savant chirped as he opened the door. Dinah glared at him, and quit trying to wriggle out of the cuffs. Savant was holding out a tray with two covered plates as he sat down next to her. Creote and Fisher followed him in, Fisher guiltily looking away, Creote hovering just over Savant's shoulder. "Just for fun, I'm letting you pick which one you want. Under one is a delicious meal of tricked-up linguini with clams. And under the other, a venomous, bird-eating snake!"



Black Canary

What? Dinah stared, then managed to whisper, "Not... hungry."



Savant

"Just as well. Now that I think about it, I can't remember which one I put the snake under. Or maybe there was more than one snake?" Savant looked thoughtful. And absolutely sincere. "Two snakes? Where's the fun in that?"

"There were no snakes, Mr. Savant," Creote said, tone deadpan.

"Never mind, then. They're a pain to clean up after, anyway." He gave Dinah a grin. "You, though-- aside from that little alleged biting incident-- have been a perfect guest!"

"The reason you're having trouble talking is that someone hit you in the trachea." Savant's smile widened. "I took the liberty of a preliminary exam, no nurse, but I swear I was the soul of discretion.... It turns out that your vocal cords and esophagus are a finely-tuned weapon, and the blow taken from my associate put a crack in the ol' Liberty Bell. You'll recover, but not any time soon." He uncovered one of the plates and started digging into the linguini. "Anyway, if you should pass on at any time while you're visiting us, I was hoping you could give me permission to dissect you. Really study the whole circuit." He frowned again, looking up at Creote. "Wait, did I already do that?"




Creote


"You have not, sir." Creote didn't appear to be joking any more than Savant was. Dinah's flesh was trying to crawl.



Savant

"Ah, well, we can do that later." Savant put down his plate, leaning forward. "First, tell me about your partner. Oracle. She's the clever one, right? I contacted her through Mr. Fisher's e-mail, and we had a nice little audio chat. I had to be sure I had the right woman, after all. So I asked her if she knew what a quatrain was."



Dinah


Dinah blinked. "Random, much?" she whispered, mind racing. By now, Barbara had to called in Helena, at the very least. They had to be looking for her-- she couldn't tell where they were, aside from not in Fisher's penthouse any longer, by the look of it. She just had to hold out and survive this until the cavalry showed up. "What'd she... say?"



Savant


"She not only gave me the dictionary definition, she composed one on the spot!" Savant looked so thrilled.

"You had better not try to deceive me,
you quivering cowardly swine.
And if you hurt my partner believe me,
I promise I'll rip out your spine!


Isn't that adorable?"




Black Canary


"Sounds like... her." And so, so reassuring to know Barbara was still on the case.



Savant

"I think I have things to do." Savant frowned again, finishing off one plate of clams. "Or maybe I've already done it." He pointed the fork at her and then got up. "Don't go anywhere!" And he practically bounced out the door.



Black Canary


"So... your boss is more than a few fries short... of a Happy Meal, hunh?" Dinah asked Creote, trying not to strain her voice as she attempted to get a read on him. "That makes you... what? Assistant? Disciple? Keeper?"



Creote


Creote gave her a flat stare. "There is no great man that does not have some madness in him." He stayed out of reach, staring at her a moment. "When Mr. Savant hurts someone, he feels emotions much like a child. Elation, satisfaction, euphoria, realization... remorse." He paused. "I? Feel nothing. Best that you remember that, Canary."

He left, leaving her alone with Fisher.



Dinah

"My partner and I... went easy on you," she whispered. "We showed you mercy. Didn't... call the cops yet." She fought for breath. "But you still... let them do this to me." She nodded down to her legs (please let them just be bruised, but she suspected they were broken by how much they hurt).



Mr. Fisher


"I know," Fisher said, expression deeply concerned. "But-- they have my family. In an undisclosed location." He waited a beat, and then headed to the door. "I'm sorry. I can't help you, Black Canary. Please don't ask me again."



Dinah


Right. So.

Dinah, handcuffed to a bed. Cuffs over her head, legs out of commission. (Don't think about that.)

Time to get out of here... and after a half hour of trying, it was obvious that her TK wasn't going to do the trick. She was going to have to dislocate her thumb, in the gloves. And then somehow get out of here.

Steel yourself, Dinah.

She was just about to do that when the door opened again.



Savant

This time Savant had a knife.

"Black Canary. I think we got off on the wrong... Let me put this another way." He got a distracted look on his face. "Your partner is very intelligent. Very. French, Chinese, Greek, she knows all of them. My ah, question is: is she beautiful?"



Dinah

Oh dear Lord. Dinah was wondering which one of them had lost their minds, because this was ridiculous.



Savant

"I knew it! I knew she'd be gorgeous!" Behind Savant, Creote was looking extremely unhappy. Savant, by contrast, bounced on the bed, and held the knife at Dinah's wrists. "I want to know everything about your partner, Canary. Everything. Starting with her name." The knife trailed down to her stomach, and Dinah's insides turned to ice. "Who is Oracle?"



Mr. Fisher


"Wait! Just. Wait a minute." It was Fisher, standing in the doorway with a teapot and cups. "I made some hot tea. With lemon. For her voice. She can't really talk like that." He hurried over and held the cup to her lips. "Careful. It's boiling hot."



Black Canary


It wasn't. It was completely cold. And there was something in the cup.

After a second, Dinah nodded that she was ready, then coughed experimentally. She had an idea. An idea that had worked on Priestly, once, but might not work on these guys-- except, Savant wasn't the sanest, and Creote was far, far to macho, so...

"If you're... going to keep me here. Much longer.... I'm going to need some... products." She took a breath. "Feminine. Products."



Savant


Creote and Savant exchanged panicked glances, then stared at her.

"She needs...? Well. You should go buy those." Savant gave Creote an expectant look.

"I would prefer not to," the bodyguard growled.

"Soon," Dinah whispered.

"...we'll continue this conversation when Creote returns, Miss Canary," Savant said, already on the other side of the door, shepherding Fisher and Creote in front of him.



Dinah

The little thing in the teacup? Her transmitter. Dinah tongued it on, and whispered, "Oracle? Black Canary on the air."

And... nothing for it. No way to know how long until the cavalry followed that signal.

CRACK! oh holy crap that thumb hurt, but one hand was out of the cuffs now. So all she had to do was-- get out of here with three busted limbs. Past a guy with Batman-level fighting skills and someone the size of a tree.

If it were easy, anybody could do it.




[ooc: WARNING: For canon-level violence, and threats of torture.
Thanks to Ana's Happy Preplay Coder for the template.
Characters, plot (and some dialogue) taken from Birds of Prey comic #57 & #58, "Of Like Minds" by Gail Simone.
Almost finished-- one more To Be Continued! ]

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