A woman with a mission will often to go any lengths to carry it out.  Strike “often“ make that “always“ and you had Detective Carol Neathawk.  Not Nighthawk, Neathawk.  Calling her Nighthawk was perhaps the only guaranteed way to annoy her.  Her personal drive to get the job done ah gotten her in considerable trouble during her career both personal and professional.  A willingness to turn a blind eye to lawbreaking that wasn’t directly connected with her target had hurt her career advancement, but helped her success rate - which was all she really cared about.  The only standards she truly cared to meet were her own, which were high enough.<br/>(http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/28/Alexandra_Hedison.jpg/220px-Alexandra_Hedison.jpg)<br/>Personally… she had scars.  Some physical, others mental, emotional, deeply buried.  Internal Affairs had never quite managed to pin anything on her because it was very hard to prove that a suspect had seen something she clamied not to have noticed in the heat of action.  But pulling that kind of trick off meant working alone more often than was safe and her targets were much less concerned with rules of evidence.  Actually killing a cop was entering dangerous ground indeed, but anything short of that, well, it happened.  Once she had been brought very close to that line indeed. She chalked it up as a learning experience to be more careful and buried the rage and fear that had burned in her gut.<br/><br/>And tonight she was at the Cage.  It helped that she had been here before when off-duty.  A few knew she was police, a few more suspected, most thought she was just a leather-jacketed dyke who tipped well.  As it happened, a tip had brought her here tonight.  The dancers were the sual lot of surgery enhanced bimobs.  She gave every one of them a couple of dollars, more to those who were naturals with no surgery.<br/><br/><br/>The new Asian chick caught her eye at once.  Elfin beauty, Chinese by the look of her but in Japanese costume.  She actually laughed at that but genuine Chinese clothing would probably confuse the Johns.  All they knew about oriental clothing came from Anime or Manga most likely.  Carol watched her out fo the corner of her eye as Dimitri intercepted her before she could go up on stage.  A casual study that went high priority when the woman was sent over to Darius.  Well, well, how about that?  Neathawk mused as she shifted in her seat away from the dancer and the crime lord- but still keeping them in the corner of her eye.  She raised her glass to her lips and whispered “Subject is now with an Asian dancer, she brought champagne.  She might be his new club toy.”<br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/89/Gun_mod_1.jpg)<br/>"Shit."  she continued softly, she had expected them to settle in at the bar, she was caught slightly off-hop.  "They're heading up the stairs back to his Limo.  Not that we'd have trouble tracking that."  She waited for the pair to leave, then downed her drink and headed out another door.  Half a blocks walk and she slipped into the waiting car.<br/><br/>"Tail two and three have him.  That tank of his doesn't exactly blend in." the driver was Pete Malloy, and older cop and an old friend.<br/><br/>Carol nodded and made go, go motions as she flipped open her laptop.[/img]