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Canary Corrupted - 1.2
🕑 Added 2025-02-13 03:17:15 +0000 UTCThe sparring bot reeled back, just barely keeping balance on stumbling, mechanical legs. A solid thwack rang out as Dinah’s boot connected with the padded head. The bot lurched again, staggering. It crashed to the floor. There it twitched and jerked in vain, unable to get back up.
Dinah watched the sparring bot writhe helplessly, briefly entertaining the fantasy that it was Ollie who was lying there instead. Other than that, the blonde fighter felt no satisfaction. Nothing seemed to scratch that itch these days. She didn’t get it from fighting, she didn’t get it from Ollie back home. God, it was like he was afraid to touch her now. As if losing her powers made her some kind of leper.
He doesn’t even have any powers, either. Fucking ridiculous.
Anger flashed hot. Another sparring bot booted up and rose. It advanced on Dinah. She saw red.
An instant later, the bot was sent flying back. The hunk of bolts and metal struck the chamber wall with a loud crash. It fell to the floor in a heap… just as the doors slid open and Stargirl walked in.
The younger heroine jumped as the bot twitched on the ground, sparks flying. She clutched her golden staff close, giving Dinah a timid look.
“Woah. Didn’t mean to cut in on your venting time.” Stargirl sounded apologetic… and a little fearful. A part of Dinah liked that.
“It’s fine.” Dinah waved the star-spangled teen to stay at the edge of the sparring ring. “I was just finishing up here.”
A third sparring bot powered up. Dinah heard it coming, closing in on her from behind. She poised to lay it out like the others, her body tense, ready to strike hard.
The kick came sloppy. The bot barreled down on her, too close to repel cleanly. It forced Dinah to grapple as it took them both to the ground. Dinah cried out, rolling out of the way just in time… except for her ankle, which got caught tangled in the bot’s legs. The snag tripped her up, sending her sprawling forward. Dinah spat out a venomous curse.
“Fuck’s sake!”
“Jeez! Are you okay?”
Stargirl bolted over, eyes wide under her mask. The concern etched on the girl’s face was sincere - because of course it was. Stargirl was a superhero, compelled by her nature to help.
Dinah couldn’t stand it. But the teenager was offering her a hand up all the same. Dinah untangled herself from the limp sparring bot, making an effort to mask her ire.
I’m fuc- I’m fine.” She had to watch her tone. Stargirl was just a kid… and none of the bullshit screwing up Dinah’s life was her fault. Dinah got to her feet, brushing herself off. “Don’t worry about it.”
Stargirl made a face. She clearly didn’t buy it, but the teenager backed off anyway. For Dinah, it was a small relief.
“If you say so.” Stargirl conceded, giving Dinah extra space. The younger heroine eyed the sparring bots, busted and broken, that littered the floor. It looked like she wanted to say something else. Dinah didn’t give her the chance.
The blonde brawler made for the exit.
“Room’s all yours.” She told the teen. “I’m out of here.”
The tumble with that last bot had hurt, but Dinah did her utmost best to hide her limp. She strutted out, chin held high.
She was so sick of it all. The Justice League. Oliver Queen. Everyone treating her like she was about to break - or worse: like she was already broken.
Dinah didn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit.
The Black Canary wanted to crack some heads.
- - -
One zeta beam later and Dinah was stalking the streets and alleys of Gotham City.
Her home away from home. As grimy and dour as the place was, a part of Dinah loved it. Gotham was a target rich environment, after all. Opportunity around every corner.
The Black Canary just needed a little push in the right direction.
Dinah found a secluded alley, away from prying eyes. She fished out her comm device, tapping a few buttons. A call went out to an old friend.
“Canary.” The familiar, digitally modulated voice answered. “It’s been a minute.”
“Oracle. Long time indeed. Some stuff came up. All that cosmic bullshit. You know that.” Canary started to pace, kicking an empty beer can further down the dingy alleyway.
“I’m assuming you didn’t call just to chat.” Oracle said pointedly.
“Maybe I just missed the sound of your artificially deep voice. You got any work for me?”
“There’s always work in our line of business. What are you thinking?”
There was a warmth blooming in Dinah’s chest. The prospect of getting back to her old bare-knuckle habits had the blonde genuinely excited. Damn near giddy, actually.
“I’m thinking there’s got to be some asshole out there who needs a few broken bones. And it just so happens that the Black Canary is back in town. And she’s got plenty of steam to let off.”
“Don’t you always?”
“Funny. What have you got for me?”
There was a pause on the other end. A brief one… but still too long for Dinah’s liking. Oracle’s next question only grated on the brawler’s nerves.
“Are you sure you want to jump back into the fight so soon?”
“Why not?” Dinah stopped pacing, frowning at her comm device. As if Oracle could see her sour look. “Everyone else is. The War World stuff is ancient history. I’m thinking about today.”
“I just don’t want to send you out if you’re not at one hundred percent.” Oracle clarified. Not that it did her point any good. All Dinah heard was the implication.
“I am at a hundred percent.” Dinah replied hotly. Now she was pacing again, just about ready to throw her hands up. “I’m fit. I’m healthy. I’m ready to work. Fuck. I lost my Canary Cry, but that doesn’t make me a cripple.”
“I didn’t say that.” Oracle cut in quickly. “I’m just saying it’s not a good idea to go running into things half-cocked. You’re angry-”
“Of course I’m angry!” Dinah snapped. Her words echoed off the alley walls, fading, fading, fading. The blonde took a deep breath, calming herself. “That son of a bitch Mongul steals my powers and now everyone acts like I’m made of porcelain. Oracle… I’m sick of waiting on the sidelines. I’m one of the best martial artists on the planet and just because I don’t have any powers-”
“Alright. I’m sorry.” Oracle relented. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Dinah slowed herself, blowing air out of her nostrils. Her ears still burned. There was warmth on her cheeks, too. The brawler leaned back against the alley wall, closing her eyes. Her hold on her comm device had become a tight grip.
“Just… I’ll take anything. I’m serious. Just point me at a bad guy. Any bad guy. I need to work.” It sounded close to begging… but Dinah didn’t care anymore.
There was a stretch of silence. Dinah held up her communicator, waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, Oracle answered.
“Okay. I got one for you. Jackson Stone. Person of interest, just blipped on the GCPD’s radar. Suspected gun runner. New associate of Salvatore Maroni, other connections to the Sionis crime family, Neon Dragons, The Hammer Mafia. This guy gets around.”
Her interest piqued, Dinah pushed off the wall. Her blood began to pump at the possibilities. Her mind was already racing with all the ways she could take this scumbag down.
“Sounds like he’s in deep.”
“Many fingers in many pies. Making money off of Gotham misery. I’m sure the Black Canary would love some one-on-one time with him.”
Dinah cracked a smile.
“You know me too well. How about we discourage Mr. Stone from any more poor life choices?”
- - -
From there, it was as simple as marking down a list of Stone’s frequent hang-outs. It turned out to be a short list. Gotham criminals, for better or worse, had evolved into creatures of habit.
A short search and a quick change of clothes later and Dinah was looking at one of Gotham’s many dens of debauchery. An exotic nightclub called The Cage.
The Canary made her approach. All she had to do was ditch the leather jacket, fluff up her hair, and swap her boots for a pair of heeled knee-highs. Now she looked more dancer than brawler. She even donned some lipstick too, just to be safe. A shade of deep, cherry red.
There was a line stretching down the block, men and women ready to party. Dinah just glided on by, her strut confident, graceful, acting like she belonged there. There were hoots, catcalls, snide whispers from some of the more jealous girls. Dinah ignored them all, flashing a bright smile as she drew up to the bouncer. He was a large, rounded fellow with thick, tatted-up arms. Even with his black shades, his boredom was clear.
“Hi. Do you remember me?” Dinah adopted a ditzy cadence, sweet as sugar, dumb as rocks. “I’m the new girl. Had an interview just last week-”
“Dancers go in through the back.” The bouncer cut her off. His expression - his boredom - remained unchanged.
Dinah faked a sheepish laugh. She shifted on her feet nervously, playing up the helpless ‘babe in the woods’ act.
“I tried. The back door is locked.” She whined pitifully. “I even tried knocking but nobody came.”
Though his shades were solid black, Dinah could tell the man was rolling his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh and muttered a curse.
“Fucking told them to keep it down in the dressing room…”
“Sorry about this.” Dinah offered a sympathetic wince. “But I’m already late. It’s my first night and-”
The bouncer stepped aside with an exasperated shake of his head.
“Get your ass inside.” He waved through brusquely.
Dinah beamed. She clapped her hands together and gave a happy little hop. Had to sell the act.
“Thank you so much!” She poured on the gratitude. But underneath she felt absolutely skeevy. She couldn’t help but think, just for a moment, that her bimbo routine was working a little too well.
Dinah ducked her head as she stepped through the open doors. Crossing that threshold brought instant change.
The base boomed faintly, though it grew stronger with each step deeper into the bowels of The Cage. The air thickened around Dinah, permeated with heat, with scent, feeling like it was sticking to her skin. And the people…
The Cage’s lounge wasn’t packed but neither was it sparse. Men of ill repute stood, sat, relaxed. Sipping on scotch or vodka or what have you, taking puffs from cigars, chatting, laughing with their boys while scantily-dressed women sat beside, quiet, obedient.
Of course their eyes were drawn to the new arrival, the leggy blonde in heels, fishnets, and tight, black bodice. Some spared her only a passing glance, turning their attention back to whatever drink or conversation originally held their focus. But others stared. And stared. And stared.
Dinah pushed on ahead. She could feel their eyes on her tits. On her ass.
They were all pigs, of course. Though there was a part of Dinah that didn’t entirely hate the appreciation. It was more than what Ollie was giving her back home, for one.
The heroine playing at dancer pressed on, moving deeper into The Cage. The scents from before only grew stronger, becoming even thicker in her nostrils.
Alcohol. Cigar smoke. Sweat. Other things. They became a haze, a cloud right in her face. Dinah had to ignore it all.
The Black Canary had a target to find.
- - -
Dinah slipped through the patrons, searching, searching. The mingling scents of beer and sweat tingled in her nose, the atmosphere ghosting over her skin. Already she felt like she needed a shower.
The music, shockingly, wasn’t hammering at her ears. The bass was loud of course, booming, thumping down to her bones, but the tracks were slow, lazy beats. Dinah could actually hear herself think.
The blonde eased her way to a railing that overlooked the main floor. There were no flashing lights or even a true dance floor, she saw. Instead, there were tables, small raised platforms for the dancers, and groupings of lounge chairs. It was an establishment built around men and their enjoyment. The men sat and drank while the women performed for their viewing pleasure. More of a strip joint than a nightclub.
Dinah was thoroughly unimpressed. She scanned the room, seeking a face that matched the profile Oracle had sent her. It didn’t take very long to pick him out.
Jackson Stone towered over his fellow patrons, standing more than a head above the next tallest man. According to Oracle’s profile, the man stood at an imposing 6’7. Stone was tall. Very tall and very broad. His build was equally striking, solid strength and muscle obvious to Dinah’s eyes, even under the layers of his tailored suit. If not for Oracle’s intel, Dinah might have had the man pegged as a fellow superhero from his figure alone.
But there were other tells, of course. Just from watching the man. It was in the way he carried himself, the casual arrogance in his gate, his posture. It was the taste of sleaziness that not even his nice clothes could hide. From this distance, Dinah could make out the edge of his neck tattoo. Other markings as well, etched onto the backs of his hands, his knuckles. Gang tats.
A tiger can’t change its stripes…
His hair, light brown, was cut short and styled with crisp neatness - his file did note a brief stint in the military. Perhaps some habits carried over. His face was hard, masculine, with the lower half darkened with stubble. His jawline looked like it could cut diamond. Everything about the man made him seem like he was carved out of stone. So fitting was his name.
Tonight, the Black Canary was going to bring him crumbling down.
She could already taste the fight, imagining how the tremble through her arms and legs would feel when she finally landed some hits on the poor bastard. The rush through her veins drove her to move.
Other men, sleazier, pig-faced types, tried to gain her attention as she went. Dinah didn’t break her stride for any of them. Not even as they tried to grab for her. Her vision was locked on Stone.
Only Stone.
Dinah crossed the main floor. By the time she reached her man, he was sitting, drink in hand as he enjoyed the performance of another young woman. But when Dinah came up to him, he drew his eyes from the half-naked brunette, focusing on her - which really shouldn’t have stoked feelings of pride.
Dinah picked the chair beside Stone’s, settling her fishnet-clad butt on the armrest. Up close, she took in the details of his face. The line of his brow. That solid jaw. Those cold blue eyes. His mouth, full lips set in a curious grin. She offered a smile of her own, putting on the face of an eager coquette.
“Hey.” Her tone was soft, light, girly.
Stone looked her over, appreciating. Admiring.
“Hey, yourself.” His voice was deep, firm. Smooth. For a man his size, it was exactly what Dinah expected.
Dinah crossed her legs - noting with some satisfaction how Stone’s gaze dipped down to drink them in.
Enjoy them now, buddy. You’ll be seeing them up-close later. Feeling them, too.
“You look like a man who could use some…” Dinah pressed her lips together, dragging out the ‘M’ sound. “Close company.”
Stone cracked a toothy smile. Dinah, for whatever reason, was relieved to see no fillings. No silver, no gold, nothing. Pearly white smile, handsome and charming - at least on the surface.
“How could you tell?” He asked.
“I’ve got a sixth sense for this sort of thing.” Dinah bragged, learning in some, giving the man a good look at the cleavage offered by her tight, black bodice.
While Stone enjoyed a look, Dinah took a close look of her own. He really was a big man. Even sitting down as he was, his size was starkly apparent. Wide shoulders filled out his suit, as did his arms. Thick biceps, bigger than Dinah’s own thighs! The material was shaped to his body, flattering to say the least. And his hands… Just from looking, Dinah had to guess that the spread of his fingers was bigger than her face.
“Is that your superpower?” Stone joked.
Dinah blinked. Superpower. The word rang in her head. Once. Twice. Again. And again. The blonde forced a giggle. She almost forgot herself. And the mission.
“You could say that.” She answered after a moment. She kept the smile up, along with the bright eyes, hoping her mark didn’t notice them falter.
“I come here pretty often.” Stone said, settling aside his drink. He drew his eyes over her legs again, over her hips, her tight belly, up to her cleavage, then her face. Admiring… but also scrutinizing. “Never seen you around.”
“I’m the new girl. Donna.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Donna. I’m Jackson.” Stone offered one of his tatted-up hands. Up close, everything about Jackson Stone seemed even larger. And his hand absolutely dwarfed hers. Dinah took it, noting again the markings, the skulls, bones, other etchings, printed across the knuckles. And she couldn’t ignore how warm his touch felt. “This your first night?”
The suave bigshot act was close to making Dinah gag. She pushed it down, forcing fluttering eyelashes in its place.
“It’s a little intimidating.” She said to him, looking around the main floor. Hands in her lap, shoulders slightly slumped, making herself seem small, vulnerable, delicate. Perfect bait for a man like Stone.
The man wore a smirk now. Dinah felt her skin crawl at the hunger in his eyes. The shudder wormed its way deeper, down into her belly.
That’s when Stone reached out and placed one hand - one very large hand - on Dinah’s knee.
“The Cage isn’t so bad. We’re all about having fun here. So just relax. Have a drink. Loosen up.” His eyes lit up then. “Hell, I was just heading to the VIP section.”
Dinah perked up at that. A chance to get him alone.
“VIP?” She inched forward a bit, ignoring the disgust stirred up by the placement of his hand. The scumbag was practically checking himself into the hospital now. How could she not smile?
“Oh, yeah. The club within the club.” Stone bragged. “Much better atmosphere. Got that ambiance. You could be my plus one.”
“Well…” Dinah glanced around, not looking at anyone in particular. Just feigning hesitation. She had to sell the act. “If you’re inviting…”
Stone looked pleased. His cocky grin spread across his scruffy face as he rose from his seat.
Up. Up. Up. He towered over Dinah.
God. He’s taller than Bruce. Way taller than Ollie.
It didn’t concern the Black Canary. She’d taken down bigger men than Jackson Stone.
The man stood over her, offering his hand. She took it… and tried not to dwell on how dainty her own hand looked against his. She let him draw her to her feet. She let his touch linger.
“You’re gonna love it. I promise.” He gestured towards a set of doors at the far end of the room, ushering Dinah by a faint touch at the small of her back. Daringly low… but Dinah had to let it slide.
She caught that look in his eye before they moved on. That same look she’d seen on so many cocky, arrogant men - hero and villain alike.
He thinks he’s getting some action tonight.
But that was the beauty of it all. He was. Just not the kind of action he wanted.
Excitement coiled in Dinah’s belly. She could already hear the bastard crying out for his mother.
“Lead the way, handsome.”
