jla_watchtower | Entries tagged with cris eleni

flame-of-green.livejournal.com

"Gimme!" *gigglepoke*

She's desperately trying to hog the blankets...again...from Cris. Apparently, this is the funniest game ever if you judge by the grin on her face and the bad case of giggles she has.

She's put Guy's apartment at Warrior's to good use. In exchange for staying here, using the internet connection and the bed, she's made sure there is always a roll of toilet paper on the core. Fair exchange in her mind.

Current Mood: amused

jla-extras.livejournal.com

There is unrest in the land of the casinos. The gaming commission is investigating a series of high payouts looking for fixed games and finding nothing. And yet the money continues to pour out.

What does a casino do in a case like this? It can't shut down or close it's doors so it has to go on with a fixed smile while money leaks out without explanation. Eventually it will have no choice but to go offline with its slots and Keno until a solution or saboteur is found.

In the meantime it still has it's regular and high stakes card games. Black Jack and Texas hold 'em in private rooms will keep some income trickling in.

Jack Mercer is on scene with his newest lucky charm on his arm. A lovely brunette in a distracting red dress who keeps him company through the games. A brunette who is getting them candid shots of every player to go with names and descriptions from Cris back in the surveillance room.

Without the good graces of the high stakes players they lose a lot of business in a casino. There is a reason that these people get comped dinners and drinks, they bring a lot of cash into the business.

What would happen if they dried up and went away?

arch-rogue.livejournal.com

Viva Las Vegas indeed.

Two Birds of Prey, one green flame superheroine, a mysterious talking head and a thief. It's not exactly Ocean's team of 11 but they might just make this work.

How does one take down the biggest mob family in Las Vegas? By hitting them where it hurts, in the wallet. Careful manipulation of the gaming in certain casinos is the way to start. Apparently the talking head (who Cris still thinks of as the 'great and terrible Oz' instead of Oracle) has set up careful intrusions into the computer systems to make things interesting.

Cris can't exactly wander around the strip since he was supposed to be dead with a couple of bullets in his skull. Instead he gets to be the watchdog. They have a room set up as headquarters with camera feeds to wherever the girls will be working so he can relay names or information as they need it.

It's not going to be fun being left behind in the room while they get to go out and have all the fun.

http://users.livejournal.com/_black_canary_/

I'll give you a f'rinstance. When I gave her her new laptop, the ultraslim ultramodern ultra-ultra-everything one Oracle put together for her, Bea hit a note only dogs can hear and called me "Santa." Then there was a lot of Portuguese, and I only know enough to order my favorite drink and understand when someone's saying, "Kill her!"

That's "Batida, por favor!" and "Mate-a!" Don't mix 'em up.

Then she found out I'd planted a bug on Cris, and the first thing she asked was "Where?" I don't think she believed me. Or maybe she hoped I didn't mean the hair on his head.

Things got interesting once I told her Cris was headed back to Vegas, and not on a plane. Oracle tells me what Bea said was "Você tá zoando! That monga! Que se foda essa merda! Tô caindo fora!" Babs refused to translate it because Mary was in earshot and she's at that age where she repeats everything, but I know a call to ass-kicking when I hear it.

Naturally I offered to help. Uh, if you can translate "You're not going there without backup" as "offer." But hey, what are friends for? I'm pretty sure "going to Vegas and finding the people who want to kill you" is covered in the gal pal code, and if it isn't, it should be. So here I am in Sin City, looking for a guy who looks great in leather pants. Too bad his morals aren't as fine as his ass.

arch-rogue.livejournal.com

He'd had the cab drop him only a couple of blocks from the park, old habit die hard and he doesn't want to make it to easy on someone trailing him. Even though the Black canary isn't somthing he has to worry about.

The room he'd been staying in was a dank hole in one of the cheaper parts of town. No need to steal and get into trouble in the Bat's town, he had enough problems. They were waiting for him when he went inside.

"Mr. Faccone is terribly disappointed in you Mr. Eleni. It's time to come home now." Cris recognizes them, the one speaking is the one to worry about. The second man is there for brute strenth and show, Michael on the other hand is smart and has about as much mercy as a striking snake.

"Yes, well my mother always told me I didn't live up to expectations, too much to hope I'd change my stripes now." There was a gun stashed behind the dresser taped to the back of the mirror. Yes, it's a little godfatherish but it works if you don't want people to find it easily. "Just let me get my things and we'll go."

There's nothing but a dangling swath of broken tape on the back of the mirror.

"I knew you were going to make this difficult." The brutish Micky grabs him by the shirtfront when Michael nods. "And I have to admit I was hoping I was right."

Cris found out where the gun went when it was smashed into the side of his head. Michael crouched beside him while he tried to get his eyes to focus again. "You aren't family, and you've got to answer for interfering." A quick nod to Mickey. "Get him in the car. I hope you went to the bathroom Mr. Eleni, it's a long trip home..."

Especially when you don't get to ride in the car but get thrown in the trunk instead. Cris doesn't often resort to his mothers language but sometimes swearing is just more satisfying in something other than English.

It's over a thousand miles to vegas, and there's not a lot of padding in the trunk.

There's a lot to swear about.

Current Mood: resigned
Current Music: Exile - Kate Rusby

arch-rogue.livejournal.com

He was supposed to have gone back to Vegas before now, but he's still in Gotham. Of course the idiots had sent people to take Fire out...well technically he was just supposed to rough her up but the guy wasn't the brightest and he had a punch like an anvil.

But the stolen laptop? That was all Cris.

He took it because he figured (and rightly so) that she was the type to let Internet explorer keep her passwords on hand for her. So he'd used that to get into her email and journals and set it up so that he'd get notified as well when she changed her password. Soon as she did he took his information back out where he'd set it up to forward to him.

So now he had access to her email and communications. She was staying at Warriors so he figured she was safe there for now. He didn't want to fiddle too much with her email because while he knew enough to do what he did, hacker extraordinairre he was not. He'd get caught sure as hell.

Now if he could just figure out what to do next.

flame-of-green.livejournal.com

There is a reason she never actually buys a piece of property for herself. Ok, more than one reason, but one main one. She's never there for very long. Even living in Vegas, the longest she's ever stayed in one city lately, she had to move from one apartment or rental house to another. Hazard of the job, she figured. One or another of the enemies she's made always found her. The burning bag of offensiveness on her doorstep was the worst in her opinion, and she's had a rental house burnt to the ground.

So it was that she found herself setting up base in Gotham, and it hadn't started out well at all. Already had to step in with an assist on some fight and boy wasn't that fun.

She had herself a flat of moderate means, nothing too flamboyant or too shabby. Nondescript. It suited her needs. It accomadated her cable modem so her webcam business still ran. Right now that was her priority.

That accomplished, groceries were in order. Frozen dinners and other non-complicated meals, soda and beer and some munchies obtained, and she's humming along with her mp3 player into her sanctum, fumbling with the bags and keys in her hands.

Humming becomes singing along as she puts the groceries away in the smallish kitchen. Singing then becomes a bit muffled as she removes her shirt on the way to the bedroom. Shower. Or maybe a bath. Hhhmmmm.

Oh, 4,5,6 c'mon and get your kicks
now you dont need that money
with a face like that, do ya.

Big black boots,
long brown hair,
she's so sweet
with her jet back stare.