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Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2013 19:30:50 GMT -5
“Join the Air Force, they said,” she thought to herself, rolling her blue eyes as the photographer’s flash momentarily blinded her. “You’ll be a service to your country, they said.” She changed positions. This was not what she had in mind. Her image was being used as pin up fodder for the USAF and recruitment posters; not the difference that the blonde bombshell from Nebraska had in mind when she had enlisted. She had wanted to become a Blackhawk, one of the most prestigious fighter squadrons in the Air Force, second only to the British Aces who flew daring missions across the channel, dropping fire bombs on Dresden. It was January 1942, and the tide was starting to turn on the war. Female heroes such as the Amazon Queen, Wonder Woman, and the Black Canary, were kicking butt without hiding their gender. Miss Fury was doing her own thing, helping the Allies fight back Rommel in Africa, and what was Zinda doing? She was posing in a provocative stance over a mock atomic bomb. Her mother, one of the first suffragettes, would be ashamed of her. Her father, who had been among the first airmen in WWI, wouldn’t have been impressed either. He had taught his daughter to fly using a crop dusting plane on their farm. He taught her every trick he knew, and she even figured out a few new ones on her own, as well as how to defend herself should something go awry. Zinda dove head first into training, practicing with weapons and hand to hand combat, all in hopes of earning the right to call herself a Blackhawk. But, even with all that skill because she was a woman she was relegated to homefront duties.
Flash Forward: January, 1944 - It took sometime; two long, hard years of fighting, scrapping, begging and pleading to even be acknowledged by the Blackhawks. When she rescued one of their team members, she hoped that would be the kick in the pants the old boy’s club needed to come into the 20th century, but apparently there was no room for women in the Blackhawks, according to their charter. “Well then change the charter!” she had challenged, balling her fists at the out dated concept of gender binaries. Her spirit must have been as impressive as her skill set, because Blackhawk, the man in charge himself, made her an honorary member. Sure, the title started off a little derogatory, and every now and then she would still be roped into doing sexy pin up poses to promote the team, but at least she was part of the action now. She got to fly in mission, participate in training exercises and help her country against the Emperor and Fuhrer.
Flash Forward: September, 1959 - In time, the guys grew to respect her as a pilot, a fighter and, most heart warmingly, a teammate; she was not just a pretty face and a great set of body parts. In fact, if ever there was a time where Zinda couldn’t handle herself, and they were few and far between, the team would circle the wagons and protect her the same as they would Olaf or Blackhawk himself. She had bonded with the other American, Chuck, sharing stories of growing up in rural American; he was from Texas and she from Nebraska., not that she didn’t think of each Blackhawk fondly, but her and Chuck had lots in common. The guys had come to respect her, and she even started getting missions on her own, including the one she was running on now. Zinda was flying south over the Atlantic, there were some fishy lights people had been seeing; bright green lights and bolts coming from the sky. Her craft was starting to get buffeted by the high winds as she got closer to the disturbance. It was as if a hand reached out from the oceans and grabbed her plane. She didn't even have a chance to radio for help, it came upon her so fast. Darknes surrounded her; there was no light, no sound, nothing.
Flash Forward: January, 1960 - After four months, Zinda was declared KIA and a small funeral was held with only the Blackhawks in attendance.
Flash Forward: September, 2013 - "There is still no change in the vitals of the woman found washed up on the shores of Gotham Bay earlier this month," the even voice of the television reporter comented. "Gotham Police are asking that anyone who might have information regarding the indentity of Jane Doe, who might know her family, please come forward." There was a pause as an image of Zinda unconcious in a hospital bed, hooked up to a respirator and IV units, flashed across the screen. "The woman is approximately five foot seven inches tall, shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes. Police have confirmed that she was found wearing what looked to be a stylized military fetish costume with the logo of Blackhawk Logistics Incorporated on the chest. When contacted for information, the president, Bartholemew Hawk III, had no comment, saying he had never seen the woman before. Police do not suspect the philantropit in any foul play at the moment." Zinda's body had washed up, looking the exact same as she had when she went down over fifty years ago, even down to her uniform. Doctors at Gotham General Hospital and the Gotham City PD had been working tirelessly to figure out who she was, but could find no trace of the mystery woman.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2013 21:05:37 GMT -5
Lady Blackhawk: Gotham General Hospital. Day 14 of Jane Doe's observation. Doctor's have confirmed that her breathing and heart rate are normal, and that aside from nutritional needs, she would be able to sustain herself. She is taken off ventilators but remains on an IV drip and heart monitors. "Jane Doe, the woman pulled from Gotham Harbour two weeks ago, has been pulled off of assisted respirators,. Doctors say her condition is stable, but she remains unconscious. Police and medical officials are still hoping that someone will come forward and help investigators identify this young woman." The impassive voice of the television newswoman reflected a genuine, all be it passing, interest in the story. Zinda's face had made national and international headlines in the first days surrounding her discovery on the shores of Gotham Bay, but now interest was waining. In the hospital, however, her eyes flickered, blonde lashes shivering and twitching. Something was happening... -e-
Black Canary: Dinah sleepily hit the mute button on her cell phone as the alarm woke her up. It was too early, 5am but she wanted to do some training and have some granola for breakfast before her mom got up. Her mom. She sighed and smirked as got up off the hide-a-bed couch and stretched. Oof how that hurt her back. Dinah's mom had been visiting her for the last couple days. It always made for a tense and busy time. Her mom still didn't approve of her heroics, but at least she was more open minded about it since her and wonder woman spoke with her. That was why she was going to sneak her training in early. That was when she heard the sounds in the kitchen and walked in to what looked like a image from her childhood. Her mom at the stove making breakfast and it looked like a big one too. Was she making pancakes and sausage?
"Good morning lazy bones I thought you would never get up." smiled her mom.
Dinah could could look at her mom stunned. "You do know how early it is don't you?" she said plopping into a chair. "And I was just going to have granola. I like having a light start."
Her mom smiled and nodded. "I figured you had a busy day planned so I got up early. And for that you need a good breakfast." she gave Dinah the mom look. "Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes." Dinah sighed and plopped down into a chair looking a little defeated, her mom was her mom. She turned on the TV and the news report came on. Might as well see what thug was doing what in town today. The report about Jane Doe came on, it was old news, but Dinah sighed softly, she felt bad for the mystery woman in the coma. At least she was doing okay. She then heard a clatter. Her mom was staring at the tv open mouthed she had dropped a full plate of breakfast all over the floor. Dinah rushed to her, "Mom?! What's wrong?"
Her mom just stared. "That's Zinda Blake!" she looked at her daughter who was giving her a blank look. "Zinda Blake, one of the best pilots in the world! She disappeared decades ago..." Dinah just looked at her mom and at the screen, no way, it couldn't be. She looked to be Dinah's age. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: Her eyes fluttered and her heart rate spiked. The brain wave monitors started going off the charts, various beeps, alarms and sirens began to wail from her room. Nursing staff and On duty doctors rushed into the room just in time to see Jane Doe shoot into a sitting position, gasping for air, gaging on the feeding tube in her throat. Before anyone could stop her she pulled it out, gaging and drooling in a very unceremonious manner, but a manner that Dinah Drake would recognize as truly Zinda. She tugged at the other wires and machines, terrified that she was part of some communist experiment, who other than the Russian's would have such advanced technology? She was shocked when the doctors, two of whom were female, came forward and tried to calm her. "Who are ya!?" she demanded, throwing a punch at the first woman and catching her in the cheek. Orderlies were called and a shot of diazepam was administered. The next time Zinda would wake up she would be restrained and two Gotham PD detectives, Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock, were present. "Well good morning Miss Doe," Renee started. "Quite a punch you got there." Zinda shot daggers at both detectives. "Mind tellin' us who you are?" "I ain't telling you pinkos anything!" she shouted defiantly. Bullock and Montoya exchanged glances. Who was this woman. -e-
Black Canary: There were some voices in the hallway enough to catch the detective's attentions. An older dark haired woman with blue eyes was arguing with the nurse at the nurses staion. Running down the hall to catch up with her was another dark haired woman, younger obviously her daughter, wearing a rather vintage black leather coat. "Mom, we just can't come barging in here... you are not even sure if she's... look the police could verify this if they..." Dinah was silence by a motherly glare. Ms Drake just turned back to the nurse. "Look, I know who you Jane Doe is, just let me see her!" the nurse although stubborn didn't seem to be a match to the spunky older woman before her. "I'm afraid I can't, besides some detective are visiting her right now. The mother and daughter glanced at each other briefly. Ms Drake smirked a familiar smirk. "So you're saying she is conscious and being questioned?" The nurse spurttered. "I didn't say that." Dinah Lace just smiles. "No, but why else would the police be visiting a woman in a coma unless she came to?" (d)
Lady Blackhawk: "I'm telling you, I'm Zinda Blake! I flew with the Blackhawk Squadron against the Nazis!" "Look lady," Harvey said, trying to calm her down. "I know that's what you keep saying, but it can't be the truth..." "Ma'am, it's 2013; Zinda Blake has been dead since 1960. She disappeared and was never heard from again." "And you keep saying that, and I keep saying I'm here! Find the Captain, find Blackhawk. He'll vouche for me!" "Bart Hawk is dead; he died in 1982." "Olaf Friedriksen?" "1985." "Chuck Wilson?!" "1986." The dates hit Zinda like a brick, each one taking more fight out of the feisty blonde. She settled back against the hospital bed as numbness spread from her face into her body. Everyone she knew and loved was dead. She swallowed hard and felt the hand of Renee Montoya press against her shoulder. "Look, we aren't calling you a lair, but we're wondering how could you get here?" Renee knew stranger things had happened in the past; some of the stories Kate would tell her had Renee questioning everything she ever held as a solid belief at times. "I don't know." "Did the USAF take your finger prints when you signed up?" Harvey suggested. Zinda Nodded. "We'll get them then, see if we can find a match." Harvey poked his head out to call for a uniform to get a finger print kit. In the crack of the door Zinda saw a familiar face, her eyes going so wide she thought they might just fall out. Of course, she was looking at Laurel, not Drake - the younger one being the spitting image of her mother in the youth Zinda had known her in.[/]font
Black Canary: Ms Drake proceeded to argue with the nurse even more as she heard a raised voice down down the all. "If she really is who I think she is, I could help confirm things." as her mother argued she saw a door open down the hall and saw Harvey poke his head out of the door and talk to one of the police officers, hearing him mention the finger printing kit. Dinah Lance smirked, finally someone was doing something right to help clear all this up. As she looked at Harvey she caught a glimpse of the blonde behind him staring at her like she had seen a ghost. She quietly backed away from her mom towards the room, her mom too busy with her nurse to notice what was going on. "Excuse me detective. I know you're busy, but I think I can help clear things up here. May I see Zinda?" she smirked, her hands resting on her hips. She wasn't sure if Jane Doe was Zinda Blake, but things were adding up, her mother's sureness of the fact, the arguing in the room, the request for a fingerprint kit? she might as well take a chance if it would let them into the room. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: "We haven't confirmed her identity yet," the large, square jawed detective said to Dinah L while the uniform left to get the kit. Zinda tried to get out of the bed, though she was restrained and unable to get up. "Dinah!" she shouted, both panic and recognition in her voice. She was desperate for someone she could trust. How could it really be over fifty years since she disappeared? Dinah looked exactly the same as she did the day she disappeared. "Dinah! Help!" she screamed, struggling against her bonds, her wrists bruising as she thrashed. "Sh... Miss Blake," Renee tried to calm her. Detective Bullock shut the door in Dinah Lance's face.
Black Canary: Dinah nodded at the large detective and then got a shock as Jane Doe started to shout her name. She could just glimpse the woman starting thrash about as she called for her. Not her, perhaps her mother. They were similar in many ways... maybe her mom was right! "Look she..." Dinah L was cut off as the detective shut the door in her face. She knocked hearing more noise. "She recognized me, perhaps I could get her to quiet down..." she said through the door. She waited a long moment to see if she got a response. She sighed and turned about to go back to her mom, who still leaning on the nurses' desk, was staring at her questioningly, wondering what was going on. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: Zinda narrowed her eyes at Renee. "I know that woman out there!" she protested. "I know her!" She continued trying to struggle as she was given another shot of sedatives. The world throbbed then went dark. Out side of the hospital room Harvey approached the dark haired women. "She seemed to recognize you," he said rather matter of factly. "How do you know her?" he asked Dinah Laurel, assuming because they looked to be the same age the younger Canary was the connection.
Black Canary: Dinah was talking to her mom in hushed tones filling her in as the detective came up behind her. They noticed how Zinda seemed to quiet down, obviously she forced to take a nap. Her mom started to reply to harvey but with a glance from her daughter she went quiet. Dinah Lance smiled kindly. "Actually Detective she is a family friend, who has been missing for a long time. My mother recognized her from the news reports and suggested we come in to help the police and Miss Blake." Younger Dinah noticing how the detective was focusing on her and smiled. "We just want to help our friend as best we can. I have missed her." she let her expression turn sad and longing playing the part. "Perhaps, we could arrange to see her once she can see visitors. You might get better answers with a familiar face." she said hopefully. Ms Drake turned away to hide a smirk. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: Detective Bullock's face remained grim as he eyed the two Dinahs. "She says she's Zinda Blake, and you're co-oberating this?" he asked, his tone implying that he was skeptical of the women. Montoya came out of the room and eyed the younger woman up; something about her seemed familiar. "The uniform has the kit; they sent it down against Blake's prints from 1942. Normally a finger print match can take over a week, but hopefully it'll be quicker with only two sets to deal with. It'll either be a match or it wont," Renee said, digging her hands under her trench coat and putting her hands on her hips. "So, family friend? How exactly do you know the alleged Miss Blake?" she asked, her tone as skeptical as her partner's.
Black Canary: The Dinahs smiled at Bullock, the younger spoke, "I am, but there is so much in a name. afterall my mother and I were both Dinah Lance." the senior Dinah smiled and nodded. "Yes, until I went back to my maiden name after my husband passed away." she smiled. Dinah Lance had a knowing look in her eye as she saw Detective Montoya join them. "Who knows about the prints Detective, but as you know so much is possible." she teased a little. "But honestly, our familys have known each other since the 40s. Many of them worked together during the war and after. You have know reason to believe us, but do you have any real reason to doubt us? Until today who else knew her name? Of course her friends would recognize her." she smiled. "I'm sure you both have plenty to do, but why don't you give us a call if anything changes or if we can visit Zinda." she pulls one of the business cards for her flower shop and writes her personal phone number on the back and hands it to Montoya. Mother and daughter walk off and Dinah whispered to her mom. "Thanks for playing along, I'm just trying to get us to meet her so we can figure this all out. From the movements I caught it looks like she is restrained you think it will hold her." Ms Drake smiled. "I think you did good and I appreciate your help. The last they need to think is that I'm a crazy old woman." her daughter smirked at that. "And with zinda, anything is possible, she was as tough as nails. Had to be to fly and fight with the boys back then." Her daughter nods, thinking she might have to visit the hospital that night as black canary. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: The detectives would give each other a moderately exasperated look. "Do you think the prints will turn up positive?" Montoya asked, with perhaps a little too much of her natural optimism showing through. Even after all of her years on the force, Renee had never let go of the desire to believe in the best of people. Kate sometimes didn't understand that, but she always respected it. That reminded her, she needed to call the redhead; with Jane Doe waking up, chances are they wouldn't be able to make their rendevouze. She was already dreading the fight that it would cause, but the make up would be worth it. "Really, Montoya? I'm hoping they don't come back positive," Bullock's harsh voice barked with a laugh. "We'd have a bigger mystery on our hands if she does turn out to be Zinda Blake, the Lady Blackhawk." Truth was, Bullock had idolized the Blackhawk's when he was a kid, but chubbiness and near sightedness had kept him out of the air force. He was well versed in Blackhawk lore and legend, which was why he had been able to tell her when the other members had died. Thinking on that, there was something to her reaction. It was always rumored that the two American fliers, Chuck and Zinda, were having a long standing fling. The blonde woman in the hospital bed certainly did react the most when they mentioned Chuck's death, becoming withdrawn and quiet for a moment.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2013 9:51:43 GMT -5
"Well I'll be…" Detective Harvey Bullock muttered when he and his partner, Renee Montoya, received the results of the finger print analysis. "Turns out she's a one-hundred percent match; right down to the scar on the right thumb. Jane Doe is Zinda Blake."
Montoya's eyebrows raised, the right higher than the left. "So how'd she get from 1959 to 2013?"
"Well, her plane went missing during a strange storm over the Gulf," the male detective shrugged. As a fan bou of the Blackhawk Squadron, Bullock had more information about the team than anyone else on the force, and when puberty kicked in there was no one who occupied more of his bedroom wall than Zinda Blake, aka Lady Blackhawk. "Maybe the Lady Blackhawk will have some better answers for us."
Renee smirked; she was well aware of Bullock's boyhood infatuation with Zinda Blake. In fact, the possibility that this woman really was Blake was a repeated topic of conversation for the two detectives. That said, talking to her was definitely a start, though from the state she was in the last time the two saw her, Montoya wasn’t holding her breath that the pilot would have any new information for them.
The detectives found Miss Blake still in her hospital room. She had been allowed to get up, finally convinced that there was no one coming to harm her in the hospital. One of the nurses had taken her measurements and purchased a set of clothes, a pair of jeans, disposable fashion boots, a plain navy blue fitted t shirt and a dark coloured corduroy jacket.
"Going somewhere?" Bullock's naturally harsh voice called from the door.
"Well, the docs say they can't keep me any longer," she said with a shrug, pulling her blonde hair into a pony tail before flashing the smirk that had stared down at Bullock from his ceiling for so many years. She didn’t know it, but she was pushing the male detective’s buttons and playing him like a fiddle. “So I was fixing on getting my little backside out into the wide world.”
"Miss Blake," Montoya started.
"So you've realized I ain't lying?" She turned to face them fully.
"Yes Ma'am," Renee said, trying to not smirk. She was a fire cracker. Well, Kate had her mystery blonde crush... "But we still have a lot of questions."
"So do I," the other woman said adjusting her collar. "Like does Dinah Lance still own the flower shop on Maple? What's the process of proving I'm not dead? The nurses were telling me the docs have started paper work, but it's long and drawn out -..."
"I think we have some to ask you first, Miss Blake," Montoya insisted, trying to get a word in edgewise on the blonde.
"And I'm gonna have a hell of a time getting my AARP card, aren't I?"
"Miss Blake," Montoya's voice was starting to get a tired tone she normally reserved for when Kate was running over her in a conversation.
"Miss Lance does own the flower shop still, but it's moved," Harvey offered while his partner stared on dumb founded. Men really were stupid.
"Thanks hun," Blake said with a wink as she sauntered past the two police officers, her hips swinging in the fitted jeans.
As the blonde woman disappeared down the hallway Montoya turned to her partner, arms crossed over her chest. Her dark lips were pursed into an unimpressed line and the expression on her face said “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
For his part, Bullock simply put on a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? She was my first crush,” he tried to defend himself, but his partner’s stern expression said she was having none of it. “C’mon, Lance and Drake seemed to know who she was yesterday. Maybe she really does know the flower keepers; it’d make it easier to find her. It’s not like we can place her under arrest, at least this way we know where she’s going.”
Montoya mused over his logic for a moment fully aware of the fact he came up with it on the spot as a way of defending letting Blake walk away without answering any questions. It was a pretty good excuse, and after a few seconds of thought, Montoya was confident that it would at least past Gordon’s mustard. “You’ve got a point,” Montoya ended up finally admitting as they left the hospital room. “Even if it is in your pants…” Her tone was half playful, half warning that if he let his dream girl fantasies get in the way of his job again they’d have problems.
“Of course I do,” he laughed as the two headed towards the elevator. “And besides,” he paused to push the call button. “Tell me if that wasn’t Antonio Bandaras or Brad Pitt you wouldn’t be letting them get away with a little extra on account that you find them attractive,” he teased, completely unaware of the fact Montoya was homosexual.
She had to hold back a bark of bitter laughter, instead settling for allowing a smirk to pull across her lips. “Oh, I think I’d be able to keep my cool,” she challenged.
The two laughed and entered the elevator.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 30, 2013 18:41:32 GMT -5
Lady Blackhawk: Getting past the police officers was easier than Zinda had anticipated, but it still made her heart race and a small, polite smirk pull onto her lips as she stepped out into modern Gotham. The city had been a marvel in the 1950s, a beacon of financial innovation whose architecture was second only to Metropolis, the academic centre of the country. Her neck craned to look at the sky scrapers and turned to see the people, all different sizes, colours and kinds, wearing all manner of dress, wandering the streets. There certainly was a culture shock aspect to it, but like any good agent she internally shrugged it off and entered the flow of foot traffic, trying to blend in without putting any effort into it. She learned long ago, exceptionally long so if you accounted for the time, the easiest way to get spotted would be to try hard to blend in. The male detective had told her where she could find the flower shop, and so she headed that way, walking down the north side of the street. Finding the shop, she poked her head in, hearing the soft ding of the bell as she pushed the glass door open. She was hit with an almost over powering scent of carnations and roses and all manner of exotic flowers, the air thick with their perfume and the humidity and heat required to keep them in beautiful bloom. "Excuse me?" she called, her steps a little unsure as she walked through the aisle.
Black Canary: Inside the flowershop, there were aisles of flowers and garden decorations. There was only a couple customers parousing the store. At a display at an endcap was a dark haired woman spraying african violets with an older glass spritzer, the scent of the flowers about her like perfume. Dinah Lance was wearing a purple polo, with the shops logo and name on it The top couple buttons undone due to the warmth and humidity in the store, paired with some black skinny jeans. She smiled hearing the voice turning around. "Yes? How can... Zinda?!" she blinked kind of surprised to see the jane doe from yesterday in her shop. She hadn't heard anything from the detectives yet. "All released? How are you doing?" She smiled casually.
Lady Blackhawk: She accepted the hug, assuming it was from her old friend and former idol, Dinah Drake, rather than her daughter Dinah Lance. "Yeah, well, I guess," she chuckled. "You know how they can be sometimes. Easily distracted," she flashed a grin and winked at the dark haired woman. The senior Dinah had shared her secret identity with Zinda during their service time together, but given that Zinda disappeared before anyone was married off and having kids, she wouldn't have thought that this was Dinah's daughter. "You look... I mean, they tell me it's 2013... and the world certainly looks and sounds different," she spoke with her blue eyes a little wide, her midwestern drawl making her "r"s a little harder and dropping the odd hard consonant. "But I don't know; you look the same as you did when we were servin t'gether." There was still clearly a lot that Zinda was confused about. One of the customers gave her a strange look before asking if she could pay for her flower arrangement.
Black Canary: She smiled and hugged Zinda back. Just glad to see the woman was out of the hospital and doing better. Dinah smirked hearing about the detectives. And knowing those two, both were a bit distracted. She laughed grinning back. "I know!" She had a slight sheepish look as the woman looked her over and then blinked at the comment about serving together. The confusion gave way as she realized that Zinda thought she was her own mother, which actually did make her blush for once. Apparently she took after mom more than she thought. She looked at the customer and gave them both an apologetic look. "We have a lot to catch up on don't we?" she smiled at zinda. "Let me just take care of these flowers real quick. She guided the customer to the built in counter with the cash register and took care of them, then peeked her head into the supply room and had her assistant Angie come out and take care of the shop. Dinah rejoined Zinda. "Let's go upstairs where we can talk." she smiled, guiding her to the back hall and the door that led up stairs to the apartment. As they went up could smell the scent of banana bread being baked. As they walked into the rather mod furnished apartment, Dinah called out. "Mom? We have a guest I think you would like to meet." Ms Drake stepped out of the kitchen undoing her daughter's apron and gasped smiling. "Zinda?!" she came over and gave her a big hug. "God knows I have been worrying about you." (d)
Lady Blackhawk: She was led upstairs, and passed the confusion of Dinah off as something caused by the stress of working; her mother had warned her about that. It was not until the second, senior Dinah swung out of the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her that Zinda's eyes went wide. "Two... " she pulled Drake off her, holding her at arm's distance to inspect her. This Dinah had clearly aged, the other one not... Clenching her eyes closed, the blonde woman shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Two?" she managed to squeak out, looking at the women, going from one to the other and back. "I do think you're right, lots to catch up on..." she said, her brows knitting together as she helped herself to a seat on the sofa, feeling a little dizzy from trying to comprehend everything.
Black Canary: Both Dinahs stood in front of Zinda in front of the couch, sharing the same look of concern. The senior Dinah sat down next to Zinda. "I'm sure this is very confusing..." she took her hands, in a rather familiar way. "But yes, I'm the Dinah Drake, that tough blonde you used to fight and drink with." she smirked. "A lot has happened since you disappeared, "And this..." she gestured toward the other Dinah. "Is my daughter Dinah Laurel, who against my better judgement follwed in my footsteps." she laughed a little as her daughter rolled her eyes. "Dinah, why don't you get some drinks for our guest?" she smiled then added. "And get the good bourbon I know you keep in the spice cupboard." Her daughter's eye's widened and then she smirked and went into the kitchen. Ms Drake squeezed Zinda's hand "It's so good to see you again. We all thought you had passed on." she gave a bittersweet smile. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: She was still feeling rather woozy; her head spinning as she looked up at Dinah. She hadn't had that expression of confusion and disbelief since she had been hypnotized and forced to marry Killer Shark. That was a bad day. She couldn't help but laugh a little at the "against my better judgement" comment, oh, this was really Dinah, that much was for sure. The offer of something warm to drink and "good" bourbon brought a smile to the woman's lips; Drake always knew the way to Zinda's heart was through her alcoholism. "Has it really been fifty years?" she asked, keeping her voice low. She knew she could trust Dinah. "Are there any 'Hawks left?" She asked, running her hands through her hair. The detectives had told her that Hawk and Wilson had died, but perhaps there was some one else, one of the younger members, were still kicking around somewhere?
Black Canary: Drake couldn't help but smirk at that smile about bourbon that Zinda got. But the smirk faded as she Zinda asked about the Hawks. "Yes hun, it has been 50 years... although some of us age better than others." she teased. "And I'm afraid..." she sighed. "There aren't any hawks left... Most of them died fighting for this country and what they believed in. You would have been proud of them." she smiled and gave Zinda's hand a squeeze again. The younger Dinah came out with a tray with filled glasses and the bottle of bourbon. Ms Drake took a glass and the bottle and handed it to Zinda. Her daughter's eyebrows raised up questioningly. "Trust me hun, she needs it." she gave a small smile. "And she can hold her own." she gave a small laugh.
Lady Blackhawk: There was a moment of stunned silence, Zinda's blue eyes going watery as Dinah informed her that the Detectives had been correct; the Blackhawks were dead. All of them. It was like someone was goose stepping on her chest, the crushing weight she was feeling inside. Outwardly, however, the rise of a small film of tears over her blue eyes, giving them a glassy look, and the drawing of her mouth, a clenched jaw and a red line above her top lip from the suppression of her emotions was all she gave. She nodded, her teeth gripping the inside of her bottom lip. She took the bottle from Dinah with a soft, "Thanks," and unscrewed the top, unceremoniously bringing the small neck to her lips and taking two long pulls from it, tipping the bottle back down to catch a breath before going for a third. At that point she put the cap on, but didn't screw it closed, leaning over her legs to rest her elbows on her knees with a sigh. She hesitated, starting to speak several times and stopping herself each time, nervously figiditing with her hair, combing the fingers of her right hand through her fringe before looking at the elder Dinah. "So.. what do I do now?" The tears that had almost flooded her eyes before came back for a moment, but rather than being mournful they were frustrated. There were no more bitter words to her, to any of the Blackhawks, than those which let others know they didn't know what to do.
Black Canary: The senior Canary just watched as her old friend take it all in, she knew that look, she knew that pain. She felt herself when any of her friends had died. But poor Zinda was taking them all in at once. She let her drink for a moment and as she bent over resting on her knees she scooted up next to her, her own eyes quite teary as she put an arm about Zinda and held her close not saying anything. At the frustrated question Ms Drake sighed. "You are more talented a pilot than anyone I know, and you know your way about combat. I'm sure we could find something for you..." The younger dinah spoke up. "There still a lot of us putting up the good fight, even here in gotham, which has gotten pretty bad over the years... I would be happy to have you join me on patrols and meet some of my friends. I'm sure they could find something for you. If you still enjoy the challenge." she teased. "Otherwise, do you like working with flowers?" she outright grinned. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: She nodded at the words of the dark haired women, a smile pulling on her lips as she looked over her shoulder at Drake, leaning into the hug a bit but not moving her arms or returning the embrace. She was going to miss the guys, there was a special bond between her and some of the members built on years of working with them, knowing she could count on them even when things got rough or weird. But this was Dinah's kid she was talking to, and if she could trust the Original Black Canary, why couldn't she find it in herself to trust her daughter? Certainly they were still talking, so it wasn't like the younger woman had become a villain, or was fighting against the forces of Patriotism and Freedom. At the mention of flowers she almost had to laugh, shaking her head. "I grew up on a farm, but I couldn't grow weeds in a garden," she said with a chuckle. "Only job I've ever had was flying," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Except for in the war when they had me do those posters, but I ain't going back to that..." They weren't racy by any stretch in modern terms, but Zinda was also from the conservative Mid West, and from the Conservative 1950s to boot.
Black Canary: The younger Dinah smirked glad she could make the pilot laugh. "Well, then I guess you can help me. I have a friend who specializes in special missions you might like to talk to. She has been wanting to send me on missions about world, she might want to hire a pilot." She got a quick warning look from her mom, before the senior Dinah laughed when she heard about the posters. "hehe, I think some of those posters are still about on the internet and on collector's walls." teased Zinda's old friend. The younger dinah smirked. "Although I think today's posters are a bit more racey than those Mom. And i don't think MS Blake is looking for a modeling career. What do you say? Should I give my friends a call?" she smiled. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: A genuine grin pulled as Dinah made the offer to call her friend, and she nodded. "But I'm hoping you won't mind if I take a little time. I got some old friends I should see first," she forced a smile. She was talking about the Blackhawks. She turned to the senior Dinah, "How'd we go about finding where their final resting places are? Unless you know off the top of yer head," she laughed, knowing that the second option was incredibly unlikely. Even Dinah wasn't aware of just how deep her relationship had gone with several of the team members. She had only ever slept with one teammate, a man known as Tex, Chuck Wilson, the only other American on the team with whom she had engaged in a secret relationship with for almost fifteen years, but she had "dated" one of the pilots who was in the closet, a gay man living in just about the worst time to be gay in the twentieth century, and Bart Hawk had taken her in like a sister, even helping her take care of her parents' funeral plans and the sale of the farm. She owed it to them to pay her respects.
Black Canary: Dinah Lance smiled and nodded. "Of course, and I think I know someone who could you loan you a plane for your trips." she gathered up the glasses and headed back to the kitchen. "Mom is the banana bread done?" Ms Drake nodded as her daughter slipped into the kitchen again, smirking a little loving how tactful Dinah had gotten. "there are a few in arlington and some in their hometowns. WE could probably get you a list of all their obituaries using Dinah's computer." She smiled standing up, going to a desk shrouded by plants. (done)
Lady Blackhawk: "Computer?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she raised an eyebrow. She pushed off her backside and stood, still not sure about these jeans, though they were comfortable and, if the leers and cat calls she received on the way to the flower shop were any indicator, they were flattering to say the least. She followed the Dinah to the computer, taking another, smaller, swig from the burbon bottle as she went. "What on earth...? This can't be a computer. I saw one of them three weeks ago and it took up an entire room! And there were fans as big and powerful as the prop on my plane!"
Black Canary: The older woman opened up the laptop sitting on the desk and booted it up smirking as her friend strode over to stare in disbelief at the computer. she laughed a little, hearing about the description of the computer Zinda remembered. "hehe, I remember those too. But techonoly has grown by leaps and bounds while you were gone. You could put a dozen of those computers inside this little thing. I'm still learning myself, but I can do some simple searches." she smirked as she brought up a browser and typed in a search, actually finding a blackhawk fansite that had references to all of their burial sites. She printed the list which sparked the wireless printer beside the laptop to life and give a full list. As the list was printing she put a cursor over a link to photos of the blackhawks but didn't click. Her daughter walked back in with some slices of banana bread ready for them. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: She jumped as the printer sprang to life, her blue eyes wide and wonderous as she moved to the printer, raising an eyebrow. "It's like a type writer with no keys?" she questioned, taking the list and looking through it, still finding it hard to keep her composure with the proof, now in her hands, that all of her near and dearests were dead. She swallowed hard reading through the list. They were listed in order of death with Xaing, who died not too long ago it seemed, at the top and the first Blackhawk to die at the bottom. She scrolled through the names and when she got to the end of the list she froze. "Blake, Zinda, aged 35, KIA September 11, 1959 - Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery." With each name they also gave a short obituary, her's was likely the one Hawk had written for the newspaper: "Valued teammate, loving daughter and true patriot. Zinda Blake fought for her country in World War Two, serving in both the European and Pacific theatres. She flew rescue and assault missions in both WWII and the Korean War. She is survived by her teammates and brothers Ryan and Matthew and sister Samantha..." she hadn't realized she had been reading aloud until she heard the stunned silence in the room, looking up to see Dinah junior return with the banana bread.
Black Canary: Dinah Drake laughed as Zinda jumped at the printer, she nodded smiling. "Yeah well the keys are here." she pointed at the laptops keyboard. "And you can save what you type and then ask it to print it later." she then gestured at the printer. She saddened as well as Zinda looked over the list and put an arm about her as she read her own obituary. She had to do that once herself, still doesn't make it any easier. "he did a good job on it didn't he. You know how he cared for you. It was a hard service for all of us." she said softly trying to hold back some tears and gave Zinda a squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm just glad you're back." The younger dinah slowed as she saw the two women and set down the banana bread on a table and sat in one of the plush chairs about the table. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: Her words, nice as they were, were the tipping point. All she could manage in terms of a reply was a nod; the obituary was exactly what she would have wanted it to be, the only thing she could have hoped for better would have been to have "And her husband, Charles," next to survivors, but that was a fantasy. Her and Chuck, they were lovers and their passions burned hotly, but there had never been any talk of marriage, or future, or kids; he had been so set on being a bachelor for the rest of his life that she had never pushed once in their fifteen years together. She put her arms around the smaller framed woman and held tight, no longer able to hold back the emotions burning inside of her. Her head bent into the dark hair streaked with silver and she cried; deep, body shaking, heart wrenching sobs and wet tears pulled the pain from inside her. If not for Drake, Zinda would have easily collapsed on the floor where she was.
Black Canary: Drake gave a look at her daughter who nodded and slipped down out the door going back down to the flower shop. Dinah Drake held Zinda tight as she felt her body shaking with sobs. Gently rubbing her back. Not saying anything, her own eyes glistening with tears, from her own memories and sympathy for pilot. She was still strong for her age and held her close keeping her up, letting her cry. Something she had been needing before she could move on. She then guided Zinda back to the couch and just held for a long moment and grabbed the bottle from zinda and took a swig from it herself, handing it back. (d)
Lady Blackhawk: For a long time she simply cried, letting the emotions wash over her and wash away the pain that her "absence" had caused. The hardest part for her to grasp was that for her yesterday she was sharing beers with these guys, fighting along side of them, flirting and laughing and having a grand time of things. And now, it had been fifty plus years, they'd gotten married, had children... Even Chuckl... She sighed, reading his obituary had been hard, loving father, devoted husband, all things that she had secretly wanted out of him but never asked for and, as such, never got. But, on the other hand, maybe if she had been around he would have asked eventually? Dinah helped her to the couch and she took a seat, inhaling deeply as she was handed the bottle again. "Thanks," she said again, taking a sip. "It's... It's just a lot to handle. I know it's been half a century for all you guys, but for me," she said with a helpless shrug, looking up at Dinah. "I was drinkin' beers with them just a few days ago."
Black Canary: Dinah nodded. "I can only imagine what that feels like. I have lost some of my friends from the JSA... Joking and fighting beside them one day... then the next the whole world changes, right?" she sighed. "having it all at once... you're stronger than me." she sat for a moment. "But, you still ahve some friends here and we will always be here for you. You know?" she smiled a little. "And I'm not going anywhere." she gave Zinda a bit of squeeze.
Lady Blackhawk: She took a breath, coughing a little as her fingers rubbed the salty tears from her cheeks, soon switching to the cuff of her dark jacket. "I know," she managed to croak out before taking another hit of the bottle. The liquid was warm going down and burned a little as she swallowed, but it helped clear the way for her to actually speak again. "I'm lucky for that, and thankful," she nodded and smiled. "So, Dinah? You named your daughter after yourself?" she laughed, in a mood to leave the darknes and mourning behind. She would find a quite place to mourn the fallen later with a strong bottle of rye and a dark room. Now, she wanted to get over the bitterness and enjoy the fact that she was in deed alive, and that she had at least one friend.
Black Canary: Dinah just held her friend as she wiped away her tears and cleared her throat with the bourbon. She smirked sheepishly at that. "Yeah, I did! I was pretty out of it at the time. My husband said that he wasn't surprised with my ego. He half expected me to name her Dinah Junior!" she laughed. "He always called her by her middle name, Laurel." she smiles rembering things fondly. "She's a good kid. She gets her attitude and determination from me though." she winks.
Lady Blackhawk: "I coulda sworn she was you," she said with a small smirk. "You two... I mean, she looks just like you!" Zinda insisted, the uncanny resemblance no doubt helping her live on to the Black Canary mantle. "Does she use your old name too?" she asked with a wink, remembering teasing her idol a few times about being a natural blonde, where the Canary only faked it. "And husband? Tell me you didn't marry that cop who kept following after you as a super hero with googly eyes?"
Black Canary: Dinah smirked a bit sheepishly. "hehe, we are a lot of like. Almost too much in some ways." the older woman rolled her eyes and gave a huff. "yes, she took up being the Black Canary too. I tried my best to prevent her to do so. I didn't want her to lead thar rough life like I did. But she is stubborn as me." she lauged a bit at the irony of that. She couldn't help but smirk as Zinda brought up her husband. "Hehe, yes. Yes I did marry 'Larry'. He sure was fun to tease in those fishnets." she winked. "Hehe, you should have seen the day when he realized I was the Black Canary, his look was priceless." she smirked. "Dinah is as good if not better at sleuthing than he was. She found all her christmas presents growing up a month in advance."
Lady Blackhawk: The talk about having a family and the good memories that Dinah was sharing with her was at one time so good, warming her as much as the bourbon had, but it also was painful. It was something she had always wanted. Of course, she was biologically only 35, there was no reason she couldn't go out and try to have a family now, was there? "I'm glad you got your man," she said finally, putting her shoulder against the other woman's gently. "And of course she was a better sleuth! She had Larry for a dad, but you as her mother," she teased.
Black Canary: She smiled a bit sheepishly as her old friend leaned into her and laughed at zinda's joke. "Hehe, thanks. Well, I like to think she has the best of both of us, except maybe my stubborness." she winked. "You should get to know her, I think you two would have a lot of fun." she pauses a moment thinking and reflecting. "I would like to ask you to make sure she doesn't get into trouble, but hehe knowing both of you, I there isn't chance that would happen." she teased back.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 7, 2013 8:57:05 GMT -5
The bus ride from Gotham to Washington, D.C. was long, and not entirely pleasant. Zinda’s face had become momentarily famous when she washed up on the shores of Gotham Bay, but the news cycles were shorter these days, and while people would still recognize her face, they couldn’t really place why they knew her, only that they had a vague sense of familiarity with her image. This lead to many uncomfortably long stares on the part of the other passengers.
She couldn’t thank the Detectives and Dinah and her daughter enough. The Detectives had printed off a map of the Arlington National Cemetery, and supplied her with an old team photo and helped her go through the plot listing. The Dinah’s had lent her enough money to buy some modern clothes, and helped her select them as she had no real concept of current fashions. Dressed in dark wash blue jeans, knee high flat heeled boots and a dark sweater, Zinda had tried to hide her discomfort with modern dress as best she could. In 1950 her dress would be rebellious, in 2013 it was conservative.
The bus came to a stop, slowing first with the sound of air breaks kicking in. The driver announced the destination and Zinda disembarked from the bus. The bus hadn’t let her out exactly at the cemetery but it was a short walk from the bus terminal to the place where Heroes were buried.
Why? What purpose did God have for her? Zinda couldn't help but be plagued with these questions and others as she wandered The Arlington Cemetery where the Blackhawks, herself included, had been laid to rest.
She carried two things with her: a photo of the team and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The team photo was from just after the war; happy, happy days. She had inspected every aspect of the photo on the eight hour bus ride, from the smile on her face, to the small crinkle under Bart’s eye, to the way Tex’s eyes were looking up at her as she perched delicately on his shoulder, an American flag stretched between them. They had made love that night for the first time in almost a year, having been separated from each other when Tex was taken hostage and held as a POW with the rest of the team.
After being denied for years the right to be considered a full team member, Zinda had spear headed the rescue effort that eventually saw the men rescued, proving her worth as a pilot, a tactician and a teammate. With the Blackhawks rescued, and their ranks expanded, Tex and Zinda, both Americans from a rural upbringing, had become closer, but missions kept them from getting as close as they both wanted. That night in Berlin, however, the war was over and it was a time of celebration.
But that was so many, many years ago. Letting out a heavy sigh, Zinda moved from grave site to grave site, starting with Bart Hawk, the leader of the Blackhawks and first man on the team to accept her as one of the boys. She had shared a shot with every member so far, pouring her squadron mate's shot on the top of their graves, working her way through the cemetery. Ten shots in, she only had two graves left.
It had been strange to see her own grave; to read her name and birth date on the headstone. Like something out of a strange dream. Her body got very cold as she traced her name on the headstone. She didn’t know who had picked it out, Bart or Chuck, perhaps, but they had done a good job. It was a white marble, like many of the others in the field, but there was a small cross representing her religion, and a set of wings for her vocation, and the Blackhawk crest on the back. "An angel in the sky," had been inscribed beneath her name, a fitting epithet for her career, she thought to herself, taking a swig from her bottle.
She wanted to walk away, but there was a numbness in her bones and a roughness in her throat; she was trying her best to remain calm and not break down at the sight of her own tombstone. She had read her own obituary, but Dinah had been there, helped support her and keep her from entirely breaking down. Now she was alone, and as the Xs piled up on her photograph, it was becoming more and more obvious just how alone she was.
After a few swigs of liquid courage, Zinda found her feet willing to move again, and she found the last member of the team.
A dark black stone, the Star of Texas emblazoned on the front, the Blackhawk crest on the back; it couldn’t be anyone else. Charles "Tex" Wilson; Brother, Husband, Father, Friend. 1922 - 1986.
Zinda and Chuck had been close, but few on or off of the team had ever known just how close they were, except of course Bart who seemed to know everything, including how to keep a hell of a secret. He was from North Texas, she was from Nebraska, and their rural, mid-western/south-western upbringings gave them plenty in common. She sighed, coming up to the headstone.
There was a bitterness to reading the middle two words, "Husband" and "Father." She and Tex had shared more than a few nights in the fox hole during the war, and many more in the decade leading up to her disappearance. She didn't know what she expected; Zinda wasn't even sure if they were exclusive when they were sleeping together, but she did know she loved him deeply, and that he was one of the only men she had ever let see her cry, had let her guard down around.
Her knees touched the damp earth, sinking into the grass. Through the material of her trousers, the displaced time traveler could feel the cold seeping into her joints. A slender finger traced his name, having dropped the photo. Her hand trembled at first as it formed the “c”, sliding from the rut of the carving several times. He was really gone…
A gust of fall wind, bitter as the chill creeping through Zinda's chest, numbing her limbs, carried the photo off and she let out a sob. She had done good so far. A few tears, silent and solemn, had fallen on Bart's tomb stone, but other than that the airwoman had kept her composure. But Chuck... no... that was too much.
"I hate you," she sobbed, breaking down into full tears. Her chest shuddering as her head bent, forehead touching the smooth, cold granite of his headstone, the emotion washing over her in a wave. She didn't mean the words, of course she didn't. They were just so much easier than saying the other words, than saying "I love you," or "I miss you." It was easier to rage, be angry and feel the hatred than to accept the sorrow and loneliness.
Ugly tears, that's what her mother, a Dustbowl Beauty Queen, used to call it when Zinda truly cried; the kind of tears that came from real emotional pain and distress rather than an attempt to get her way or out of trouble. This was an ugly cry; tears streaking her face, nose running, full body sobbing.
Her right hand set down the bottle and draped over the tomb stone. She needed his support now more than ever before, and unlike the other times when he had been her rock, he was gone. The cold of the stone pressed through her coat and sweater, but the smooth hardness was still somewhat comforting. Her cheek felt the coolness of it, soothing the streaks of hot tears somewhat. “I need you so bad, baby,” she managed to whimper out between tightly drawn lips, sobs and sniffles, her tears falling shamelessly from her reddened cheeks onto the base of his monument. “You lied. You said you’d always be home. You said you’d be there!” Again, replacing the fear of loneliness and the heart break with rage, a convenient safety mechanism she employed regularly in the “past” and would likely continue employing in the future.
Time stood still as Zinda repositioned her body, curling up as if she were lying in the grave with him, her head resting against the sharp edge of the stone. No one came to question or inquire about what she was doing. Perhaps it wasn’t that odd to see a crying woman in a cemetery in these days. Zinda would be unaware of the current political environment.
The sun slid below the horizon, and the sounds of nightlife woke her with a start, a deep cold having infected her body despite the whiskey pumping through her system. She had cried herself to sleep.
"I loved you, you son of a bitch, and when I need you the most you're already fucking dead," she spat, wiping her tears away. "I still love you..." she whimpered, her eyes welling with fresh tears. "And I always will..." She fought back the fresh flow of tears, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the damp earth an grass clippings from her jeans and coat, shaking them free of her hair.
She sniffed, wiped her eyes and brushed the dirt from her knees and backside. Straightening the jacket she wore against the cold, Zinda took a breath. "I'll do y'all proud, boys... even if I am the last Blackhawk."
Leaving the cemetery, Zinda called a cab to pick her up. The dispatch said it'd be twenty minutes.
"Change the pick up location to Long Shots, then please an' thank ya, Ma'am," she asked, disconnecting and making her way to the bar for another drink.
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