Nightwing found himself a good vantage point to watch the meet from. The roof was fairly barren except for the silver air-conditioning units spread out at even intervals across the rooftop.
Dick crouched in the shadow of one of these now, pulling equipment from his belt silently. A device the size and shape of an iPhone, and flexible tripod he wrapped around a solid piece of pipe. He fiddled with the equipment silently, his attention never leaving the two groups of men on the rooftop.
Apparently done with his preparations, Nightwing inched his way to a better position. It was painstakingly slow, but he knew better than to rush himself. Finally, he was within earshot, albeit less than two meters from one of the armed guards.
Colonel Darby stood with his four guards, all clad in matching black trenchcoats. The guards clustered around Darby, each man delegated a field-of-fire which was his to monitor. Rifle butts protruded from under their coats, slung to allow instant functionality should the need arise.
Standard close-protection training at the least, have to see them in action to get a better read on their skillset.
Across from Darby stood six men. They wore dark jackets and workmen's coveralls, the kind of attire you might expect from mafia thugs- which these were. They were armed with an assortment of weapons, shotguns, pistols and the like.
He caught the Colonel as he finished berating the lead mafioso.
"-nd let me assure you, my men do more than kill fat old men in restaurants for a living. There is a difference between assassins and warriors, son. I brought the latter." The Colonel's voice was hard edged and level. He wasn't angry, merely supremely confident.
Not exactly surprising, considering how much of this guy's Agency files were redacted...
"Now did you want to see my merchandise, or have a shootout at 2 in the morning on an abandoned rooftop?" the Colonel asked. He waved one of his men forward, and the man stepped slowly toward the other group, pulling something out of his jacket and handing it to the lead Mafioso.
Nightwing watched intently, trying in vain to figure out what it was. The Mafioso held it up in front of his face, and a pair of glowing red dots suddenly sprang to life in front of his eyes. Eyes which happened, by sheer coincidence, to be aimed directly at where Dick was hiding. Thermal optics! They're trading goddam- Dick didn't even have time to finish his thought, as the Mafioso immediately pointed at him, starting to yell.
"Merry Christmas dirtbags!" Nightwing yelled, throwing a pair of flash grenades into the air as he sprang forward.
He was just glad Bruce wasn't around to see this...
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