Chapter Two

            The plate-glass window at Kane's Diamond Distributors shattered as the man's body went trough it and rolled unconscious on the sidewalk. The blond woman turned and dropped into a crouch as the second man tried to hit her across the head with the butt of his gun. He missed. She kicked him in the ankle, knocking him to the floor. She heard the rush of air leaving his lungs and knew he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

            Two down, four to go.

            Three of the others approached her from different angles while the last one continued to fill a bag with display diamonds. He must be the leader, she thought, leaving the others to do the dirty work. They were in close quarters, but that suited her just fine. The closer they were the less likely they were to use their weapons. The chance of hitting a teammate was too great. She hoped.

            "You must be that Black Bird chick I keep hearing about," the one in front of her said. "Why don't you save yourself a beating and fly away?"

            "Ca-na-ry," she said slowly, emphasizing each syllable. "Black Canary. God, I need a better publicist."

            "Whatever your name is, I think it's time we stuff you."

            He started to lift his weapon, a sawed-off shotgun, but she leapt up at him and delivered a roundhouse kick to his wrist. She heard it snap and the gun went flying.

            "Now that just sounded dirty," she said, starting to form a fist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other men raise his weapon. She somersaulted over a display case and landed on all fours, letting her body sink as close to the floor as possible. The shotgun exploded, sending buckshot through the glass display above her head and, from the sound of it, into the man whose wrist she'd just broken.

            There went the close-quarters theory.

            "Canary," a voice said in her ear.

            "Not now, Oracle. I'm a little busy."

            "Are you still at Kane's?"

            "For the moment." A fire extinguisher sat next to her head, under the display case. The other two men were shouting at the gunman, telling him to put the gun down and watch where he was pointing it. She flipped the extinguisher up and out where she last saw the gunman standing. He pumped a round into it. The extinguisher exploded, sending smoky foam into the men's faces.

            "Be with you in a sec," she said and vaulted over the ruined case, landing beside a white-faced thug. A kick in the ribs sent him stumbling into the gunman, whose weapon clattered across the floor as the two went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

            The last man headed for the door, bag of diamonds and henchmen all but forgotten. From a side pocket, Black Canary pulled out a disc. It was thin and lightweight and slightly larger than her palm. Cut into its center was the profile of a bird's head. She threw it backhanded at the retreating burglar. As it spun, it emitted a shrill tone, the cry of a bird of prey. The man turned his head towards the sound and was knocked unconscious for his efforts when the disc hit him square in the forehead.

            She retrieved the disc and took a brief moment to review her handiwork before jumping through the broken window. She retrieved her motorcycle from the alleyway and sped off down the road, passing three of Gotham's finest as they sped towards the robbery-once-in-progress.

"Oracle, you there?"

            "I'm here, Canary, but I'm getting a lot of high wind interference on your com mike. Are you on your bike?"

            "Hold on." Black Canary touched a button that switched her com signal from local to the headset located in her helmet. "Is that better?"

            "Much. How did things go at Kane's?"

            "Fair. One of the guys got a little frisky and ended up shooting his partner trying to get to me, but other than that it went fine."

            "Are you ready for something else?"

            "Hit me."

            "I need you to go out to Gotham Heights. I'll send you the exact information on your GPS. Batman called in and said there's something there he needs our help with."

            Canary laughed. "The big boy needs our help? What's wrong? Did he get a run in his tights and he needs me to sew them up for him?"

            "Actually, he didn't say. You know how he is. Keeps his own council, everything on a need to know basis. He just asked me to have you meet him there as soon as possible."

            "Asked?"

            "Ordered, to be honest. I can always tell him you're busy."

            Canary read the information downloading on the GPS display located on the bike's handlebars. She calculated the distance and sighed. "Tell him I'll be there in about twenty minutes."