Nightwing Nightwing is dressed in his work clothes, and business is apparently booming. Well honed muscles and athletic grace fill Nightwing's costume nicely, giving him a sleek, predatory appearance not unlike a jungle cat. Adding to the predatory appearance are the two piercing blue eyes that peer from the eyeholes of his angular bird-shaped mask. Nightwing's costume is a form fitting black bodysuit with only a stylized blue bird breaking the monotony of the black. The 'bird' begins at a point on the middle of his chest, the 'wings' running into stripes of the same blue over his shoulders and down the outside of each arm into the ring and middle fingers of each hand. From the rear, the same blue 'bird' design can be seen, the lowest point falling to the middle of his back. The costume seems to be more flexible around the joints and tougher elsewhere. Just where this change form soft to hard takes place is hard to tell with just a passing glance. On his hands and feet there are gloves and boots which extend to the middle of the lower arms and feet. At their terminating point, the boots and gloves appear thicker than they do around the hand and foot area, and almost look compartmented around their 'cuffs'. On the man's back on either side below his shoulder blades there is a single 'holster' holding an 'escrima' fighting stick around two feet long. Gotham: Uptown Uptown was once the neighborhood in which to live in Gotham City, but that position has been usurped by Bristol and Neville. It has not deteriorated as much as it has become socially mixed. You can find the professional, the factory worker, the small town shop owner, the very rich, and the rather weird, all living in Uptown. Residential hotels that charge several thousand dollars a month in rent are next to free legal clinics, and a Porche 911 Turbo will often be found parked next to a Dodge Omni. Uptown is a very tolerant neighborhood, and the mix of people here makes it the most vibrant of Gotham's neighborhoods. At least, in the opinion of Uptowners, that is. Contents: Nightwing Obvious exits: Robinson Park Charon Business District Little Stockton Glendale Nightwing sits on the roof of a three story hotel listening to a bug in his ear and looking over the shadowy ledge at the street below. In one hand Nightwing holds a half sandwich. (OOC) Nightwing says, "Earpiece, not a bug. D'oh. Boy am I tired. ;)" The restaurant isn't shadowy. It's brightly lit. It's cheery. A family place. If you know what I mean. The booth in the back has worn red leather seats, and Boss Cataglia sits in the seat across from his son-in-law Mario, a vast plate of spaghetti between them. Mario is thin and angular where the boss is round and thick, but although their tones are genial and their conversation isn't attracting any attention (it never does, but it's not surprising here), their words betray a common casual brutality. "So, Padrino." Mario says finally, "We ought ta talk about Milt." Nightwing takes a bite of his sandwich, taling to himself as he chews. "Yeah...let's talk about...(munch)... Milt." The older man's voice sounds thick and scratchy in the earpiece. "Yeah? What's to talk about?" "He ain't earning, Papa." Mario says. "He used to be a good earner. No more." You can almost hear the shrug. "You talk to him? Send someone to talk to him?" "I called him, Papa." Mario says. "On the telephone. He says the Joker's putting the screws to his players and they're jumping ship." Nightwing stops chewing and adjusts his earpiece. . o ) (Joker? This small eavesdropping session is already getting interesting.) The older man is contemptuous. "Bah. Joker nothin'. You got to -talk- to him, Mario." he says. "You know I didn't let you marry Sylvia for you to talk on the phone, yes?" Mario says "Yes, Padrino. I'll get a couple of fellows down there to talk to him." Cataglia snarls, "You do it tonight. You do it now. Right now. Got me? If Milt hadn't known your #&*#^ uncle, I never would have let that yellow no-good swindler drag his gypsies and his bagmen around my family, you got me?" "I get you, Papa." Mario says gently. "Keep your voice down. I'll take care of it right now." Mario's voice fades for a minute. "Mike. Vince. C'mere." Papa Cataglia chuckles. A moment later a pair of men in ill-fitting suits, one of whom is definitely Vince Giannotta, strong-arm man, and the other of whom is almost certainly "Mike", whoever that is, emerge from the little Family restaurant and head for the cramped alleyway. Nightwing takes a couple of big bites from his sandwich and rises to his knees, providing a better view of the street. A small smile crosses Nightwing's lips as he thinks, . o 0 ( Yeah Mario, let's me, you, and the guys go take care of Milt.) A moment later their car emerges and eases into the late-night, but seemingly endless, Gotham traffic. They're headed south. Nightwing finishes his sandwich and stands fully, watching the three men exit the restaurant. (Well well well, Vince Gianotta...another name I've heard before.0 0 o . thinks Nightwing as he pulls a swingline and grapple from a glove compartment. Nightwing throws the line and swings after the car.