2012-10-07 Five Chicks Kicking Butt

So: It's not so much a rainy night as a misty night-- not, it should be noted, a Misty Knight-- and the roads are wet. Hydroplaning wet. Beginning-to-fall leaves wet. The South Street Seaport is a gentrified yuppie haven of Banana Republic and Chipotle and Starbucks and artisan gelato and whatever, and one would *think* the kind of criminals that street vigilantes tend to fight wouldn't be caught dead there. Given how rich people are, the police response time is minimal; it's like a straight ticket to jail. Do not pass Go, et cetera. Thing is? Some people actually do stuff specifically to get arrested. It's a socially reprehensible justice system fail-- no matter how rough, no matter how awful, it provides a roof and heat and food and healthcare. This would normally be something of a boringly predictable situation, except for one important fact: Who the hell has ever heard of a Thug Flashmob? That is the situation the Black Canary finds herself in in a back alley of the Seaport, holding a dude she's just divested of his knife by the lapels, and looking up to see at *least* twenty guys surrounding her. Like the f'ing Lost Boys or something. Meanwhile, innocent rich people and tourists are running away from the area and yelling a lot whenever they pass by the alley and see Danger. "Shit," she says after a second, bright blue eyes widening. "You boys don't want me to scream, do you?"

Pulling up at a stoplight, Tanya slows her Tomahawk to a stop and sticks her left leg out. As far as she's concerned, it's a good night. Yes, it's only a few steps removed from actually raining, she forgot her jacket, and the streets being so slick means she can't race along like a lunatic--but at least she's riding. She's finally able to actually ride her damned motorcycle, which puts a big, cheesy grin on her face. Which gets slowly removed as people come pouring out into the street, panicking and fleeing. Yeah. That's not a good sign. And it figures it would happen tonight of all nights. She pulls over to the side and parks her Tomahawk in front of a Starbucks, then slips off the machine and starts heading in the direction the fleeing people came from. Trying to make like a salmon and swim upstream means she's taking a little longer, but she weaves around the people as best as she an to find the source of the disturbance.

Not a place where Mend normally patrols. Definitely a place Marissa Sometimes might be found. Until, that is, she sees people running in panic. Vanishing into a (very different) alleyway...from which Mend emerges, from the other end, breaking into a run towards the epicenter of the fleeing crowd, her ponytail streaming out behind her. Whatever's going on, it's likely to be, for once, her level of threat, as it were. For once. Her approach does attract some attention, fortunately mostly positive, people getting out of the incoming Titan's way as she heads for the fight.

Well, sure it's misty, damp, wet, ugly, overcast, and any other descriptive terms you could use to imply that it's ugly out, but Heather is running in her nightly ritual. Yeah, she works out a -lot- these days. Sure, the rain mixes with the sweat and makes her outfit stick to her all the more. That's why she's not dressed in a manner to get an R rating of course. But a flash mob does tend to sneak up on a person, and she turns a corner... seeing the building. Oh.. what the... slowing to a stop, she eyes things as they get started and those blue eyes of hers narrow. "Crap." is all she says as she starts stalking towards the crowd. "People!" she yells, "Don't be stupi-." and she's cut off by a coffee mug slamming into her head making a gash across her forehead. As folks start running away, she stumbles and lifts a hand to her head. "Okay. Fine." she mutters as she stands back up, the cut already mostly healed. One guy is grabbed as he's about to take down a victim, some guy in a business suit on his phone dialing 911 and trying to flee. "C'mere you punk." says Heather as she notices Tanya. It's difficult not to notice the -one- person going against the flow. So she drags that guy along behind her like some kid's toy, and breaks a trail to get closer to the other woman. "Don't I know you?" she calls out as she gets up next to her. OF course, she's shoving folks out of the way left and right as she tries to get to some semblance of a center to all this.

It's nights like this that make Domino glad to have a working car. The wipers drum out a rhythmic, droning beat, the black Jaguar barely flinching as it plows through the standing puddles of murky city water. Coffee to go had been keeping her awake and mobile, as black as the brew could physically get with the added comfort of extra warmth to a battered body, but its end is near. As luck would have it she's passing through a part of town where some excellent caffeinated drinks can be had, draining the pressed cardboard cup of its last offerings before making the decision to stop for another. The night's looking miserable enough already, anything that she can do to bring a bit of light back into it is more than worth the handful of Washington's. Fancy aluminum rimmed tires come to rest in a river of grimy water flushing toward the nearest gutter, Dom carefully stepping out and hiking up the collar of her trench while nudging the door closed. When she looks up again there's a handful of people running away, causing her to hesitate for a passing moment. "I'm not -that- scary, am I?" No..wait. Hero types are already running toward the mess everyone else is fleeing. Sigh. "Alright, whatever. Punching something ought to complete my evening." She doesn't run, walking works just fine for her.

Upstream swimming in a crowd of fleeing, terrified yuppies-- especially if you look Alternative-- is liable to make for shoves and actual in-the-face screaming; it has the bonus side effect of making the thugs generally ignore Tanya as some of them filter and shove through the crowds, assaulting and purse-snatching and wristwatch-stealing. She could be one of them. Right? Since Mend's in a *costume*, though, she gets attention immediately. There's a sharp two-finger whistle to one side of her, and a guy with a lot of scars shoves into her on one side, while a second one places his leg behind hers to get her to trip, and another one comes at her with a knife. Heather, actively dragging someone, and-- well-- moderately recognisable (especially since her clothes are rather clingy at the moment-- gets plenty of attention as well: the dude she's dragging squirms and kicks and tries to entangle her legs with his own self, and a couple more guys with knives come running at her, even as she's approaching Tanya in the upstream mess. On the other hand, Domino looks like more trouble than she's worth. When she starts coming closer to anyone who looks like a promising target for face-punchings, they vanish like fish into the shadows and rocks of a disturbed tidal pool. Suddenly there's a sound-- it's like a scream, but it's got a weird quality to it, directed and powerful. And then there's crashing and yelling from the alley, as three guys go flying out of it and impact with runners.

See, that's part of why the costume...and these three? They're thugs, and Mend is relatively inexperienced...but not *that* inexperienced. Twisting to one side, she avoids being tripped, although the knife slashes across her bare arm. Ignoring the cut, she brings the side of her hand towards the man's knife arm. "Really. In THIS part of town?" Not quite the world's least competent villains, but quite possibly up there in the contest for the world's stupidest. The sound? She notes it, but right now, she's slightly busy...keeping THEM busy so they don't attack civilians.

What is it about chaos and disaster that brings out the worst in people? Almost everyone is trying to flee, and the few that are approaching to (presumably) help seem to be the ones getting caught up in trouble where trouble should not exist! Domino can't save everyone, nor can she be expected to (and it tends not to pay very well.) Fortunately, at least one individual getting caught up in a spontaneous skirmish seem to know what she's doing. More or less. Then there's that godsawful -noise- coming from the alley, even at a distance and outside of its direct path her next step falters as a grimace etches itself across her pale face. Okay, something's going down. Something less than ideal. She doesn't make a grab for a gun yet, but if necessary the report of one discharging might help suggest to the other thugs that sticking around is not in their best interests. Alley first, maybe someone there will let themselves get decked across the face.

It's difficult to not notice the grunts as people are shoved out of the professional bodyguard's way, and Tanya spares a look over her shoulder as she hears the woman calling out. "Yeah, from the--office tower thing!" she calls back, and is about to add more when she sees a couple of guys running with knives. Oh, that can't end well. Fire is out of the question thanks to the heavy mist, but--she takes classes two nights a week for a reason. She goes to grab the wrist of the closest knife-wielder with her left hand, twisting as she presses her fingers into the pressure point on the wrist. Drop that damn thing.

Well, Heather's starting to learn Teamwork. "Heh, I was kidding Tanya!" she offers as she plucks one of the knives from her stomach, the wound closing as she does so. The knife is tossed to the ground and she eyes the approaching guys. "Hold up T..." Okay, the girl can handle herself. Nodding, she goes to use the guy she's dragging as a tool... well, that's when his legs tangle in hers. She stumbles and though she was about to get all flashy and defensive with these guys, that stumble screws it all up. "Oh hell." she mutters as things come to a head. Sure, Tanya engaged one of them, but when all is said and done, Heather's wearing basically a knife-studded outfit. "Ow..." escapes her lips before she lets go of the first guy and gets up from where she'd been dropped to one knee. "My turn." she adds before she explodes into motion. Krav Maga is not pretty, it's not sweeping or aerial. It -is- however, darned effective. And she lashes out at several of the guys, still holding back her full strength for fear of killing anyone. The noise gets her attention. In fact, it makes her mutter, "Now I get a migraine? Ringing in my... oh wait no, that's over there." she remarks, the area around her suddenly remarkably clear after her flurry of attacks. Something like fourteen stab wounds now though. Maybe she's collecting to get the new record.

Really, in this part of town! The relative organization of the guys, and the fact that they flash-mobbed out of nowhere, *and* the fact that there aren't even any sirens yet--? It's weird. The dude who just slashed Mend is all smug-in-the-face until she chops at his arm with her hand; the knife drops from suddenly nerveless fingers, and he yells in outrage. Meanwhile, his two nearby buddies are using that moment to try and tag-team Mend again: this time, one of them makes a grab to grapple her from the back, and the other one's throwing a punch at her midsection. In Tanya and Heather's circle of influence, the civilians are clearing out right quick, and the thugs hassling them are finding themselves in a world of trouble they absolutely did not bargain for. The one Tanya pressure-points, you better believe he drops the knife; he also screams like a girl. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAND!!!!" The ones who've been trying to stab Heather show that even though they may not be led by the drives of stereotypical reactions to wet t-shirt contests, they're not in any way stupid. Once she's started kicking their faces and breaking their extremities, they start scattering from her and Tanya both. All three of these women are closer to the mouth of the alley than they were at the start, and there are still lots of crashing sounds, though the sonic disturbance hasn't recurred: Domino, headed straight for it, while passing by Tanya and Mend and Heather, gets a thug practically to the face as he gets flipped out of the alley. There's just fighting everywhere. Everywhere! Finally sirens start being audible, approaching like the Blues Brothers cavalcade of cop cars, from the sound of it.

She dodges the punch, but the thug manages to grapple her. Growling quietly, she stomps on his foot, hard, grinding her heel into it if she can. Mend, not happy. She's not even really doing any good here...she's stuck protecting herself rather than any present innocents...and really, it seems there's just thugs and people who don't quite count here...anyone who can fight the way the other women are isn't an 'innocent' in her book...but she's stuck here now. Grrr...

"Yeah, well, maybe when I've not got water in my eyes I'll hear better," Tanya retorts, grinning at Heather and is obviously impressed by the whupping she just gave the others. "C'mon, let's go see how many other of these jack-offs we can teach to pick better life-choices, yeah?" With that, she starts to jog--or clomp loudly, considering her motorcycle boots--further down the alley. She knows Heather will heal the knife wound--well, wounds. She still feels bad for not managing to get the other guy, too, but that'll have to wait for later. Wait--sirens. Excellent. All they have to do--hopefully--is deal with these jack-asses for a little bit longer yet. She races toward the other end, where she'll try and trip one of the jerks still scattering. Maybe she'll get lucky and he'll break his nose.

Airborne thug alert! Domino's just about to get to what feels like the source of this trouble when some guy gets launched at her, probably not by his choice. Instinct takes over as she lands a pair of hands upon the guy just before he can plow into her, promptly altering his direction and sending him straight to the pavement at her side. He's unfortunate enough to also get a big, tall combat boot to the sternum an instant later, the motion swift and unforgiving. "Sorry kid," she mutters with a wince and one hand lightly pressing against her ribs, "your flight's been canceled." Funny, that move is a lot easier when she hasn't recently been shot... A quick look is passed back to the other women all kicking butt in the immediate area. "Everyone cool out here?" They seem to be having a good time--cripes, how many blades does that one chick have sticking out of her? "Right, call if you need me." Not that she's expecting anyone to be paying attention to her, she's just being snarky. Nope, wait, some biker gal with a fixation on neon pink is taking point already. Good initiative! The mercenary grins slightly and follows after her. This could prove to be fun.

"Something's definitely up in that alley..." offers Heather. There's a mild wheeze to her voice indicating that for the moment she has what's known as a 'sucking chest wound', but the next time she speaks, it seems to be gone. "Hey, check the alley, I see something." And that said, she reaches over, grabs a car door -right- off a parked car. Sorry dude, insurance time! And she turns that into a bulldozer blade as she starts trudging towards Mend. Her intention is, to get near the costumed person and hopefully prevent -total- overwhelming. She also assumes there's a metahuman kicking ass in they alley, which is why she thinks it'll be safer there for Tanya. "Right as a guy is about to jump Mend from behind, he gets a car door clobbering from behind himself and Heather says to Mend, "You okay there?" as she and her blood-soaked skimpy workout clothes, wielding a car door as a shield and weapon... kinda stand out all of a sudden.

Another screamer: the guy whose instep Mend just mashed and ground in, he shrieks and lashes out, even as his pals abandon him to leg it. Either he's dumber than they are or he's seeing red. He throws a punch at her head, roaring and standing on one foot. As Tanya makes her way into the alley, there are more incapacitated thugs on the ground, either unconscious or rolling or groaning. Ahead of her, there's a blonde cyclone of furious motion: another woman fighting, and-- oh my, in fishnets and five-inch heels. She tosses a few more, follows up a face-punch with a whip-kick high heel to a leg, and then gets blindsided. One guy punches her solar plexus, and she suddenly has the wind knocked out of her. Staggering back and into someone waiting for just this opportunity, she finds herself with a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm twisted up around her back, held against a thug's chest. The three other guys left standing who haven't bailed start advancing on her, grinning, one wearing brass knuckles and the two others flicking open switchblades. The dude Domino flattened doesn't even know what the hell's just happened; he's lying on the pavement holding his chest, curled up in the fetal position and only vaguely aware that he was just in an alley. Ahead of her, the neon-pink ass-kicker and a Situation involving someone who's dressed like a cross between a hooker and a... stage magician? Err. Meanwhile, as Heather's split off from Tanya, the sirens are getting a lot closer-- the chorus of wails is scattering almost everyone else that isn't already on the ground-- and then the guy who was heading for Mend as a target of opportunity while Hoppy rage-faces, he gets his nose broken by the introduction of pavement to it, and a nice big concussion on the back of his head. He's definitely out for the count.

"Thanks!" Mend calls, even as she manages to grab the man's wrist as he throws the punch and step to one side. She's not that strong, but he was coming with *plenty* of momentum. "This one just won't give up!" Where WERE the regular cops when she really needed them? Oh yeah, coming. But there's something about this. Could this be a...nah. NOW she's just paranoid.

...eee. Tanya actually grimaces a little when the thug hits the ground that hard. She actually hopes he doesn't have a concussion; that crap is for the birds. She doesn't take long to ponder her sympathies; she's off and clomping again, toward the blonde dervish. The one grabbing the Canary like that--that's just not playing fair. She starts running faster, as her eyes and hands glow bright pink, as does the tattoo of a curved lightning bolt on her left bicep. "Play fair, asshole!" she shouts as she leaps--and tries to smack the guy in the back of the head. If she can, she'll make every electric connection in the guy's brain fire at the same time--causing a mild seizure and, hopefully, making him drop to the ground.

Ah, hell. Okay, Domino knows a hero type when she sees one. That lone woman in the outstanding outfit (seriously, isn't it kinda chilly tonight for that?) is in a situation which she should not be. Kudos for trying to take on such a big group at once, though! Between her and that pink haired femme they've got a good drop on these guys. All they have to do is intervene before Hero Chick gets gutted where she stands. Pink is lookin' like the sort who's wanting to pick a fight, which means the merc gets to play distraction. At least that's what she's planning on until Pink charges forward and starts laying into the guys. Alright, that works too! From Dom's end of the alley she finally draws her large, matched sidearms and rushes forward a moment afterward. Turning this into a firefight isn't her intention, but that solid metal weight in her palms is good for smacking people as well as deterring further conflict. "Now's a great time to stop giving me reasons to shoot you all!" Or pistol-whip them in the face. She's a lot more likely to do that.

And there are the cops! And it's for Heather and Mend to deal with them, since there's a lot of unconscious people there to explain, sort of. Around them. And scattered about. The first cop car to arrive stops, and it's a long second before they get out of the car, tentatively. Fortunately, Mend is a Titan, and her costume is recognisable, so it's not so much a question of 'do we have to shoot THEM?' so much as-- and just as one cop's starting to approach, looking like he's trying to look officious, the other one stares agog at Heather. And then radios, "Supermodel. Fighting. With a Titan--" More cars start to pull up and stop, blocking off the seaport sub-area, and busy-bees do what's left of their job.

Being a Titan, Mend will move to deal with the cops...and hopefully give the independents a chance to retreat. Not that she saw everything, but she can explain what she did see. Once she's done with that, she'll slip off to retrieve her street clothes (which are well hidden).

It's probably fairly satisfyingly how suddenly the man gripping the winded Canary drops, even as she's not even bothering to struggle, just trying to kick the approaching jackasses in their nethers and hoping she's not about to get her neck broken. As soon as he falls away to start spasming on the ground, she nearly overbalances, then manages to sidestep just enough to be able to thump against the wall and work on catching her breath. The cavalry's here! One of the guys has, in fact, dropped his switchblade and is falling to the ground, clutching his danglies and moaning in agony; the other two are now properly incensed. "Bitches!" he yells, and then gets a faceful of blunt gunmetal for his trouble; the last one thinks he's gonna get away, ha ha, but gets thoroughly clocked by the other gun. He goes down. It's suddenly an oasis of quiet in the rain-slick alley.

Sadly it's not as satisfying as Tanya would ordinarily find it. This was her first night on her motorcycle in forever, damn it! When there's quiet in the alleyway, finally, she straightens up as the glow fades from her--then delivers a solid kick to the stomach of the guy she just dropped. "Bastard. On my first night back on my bike, too," she mutters as she wipes the mist from her face. She doesn't bother wiping the sunglasses; she has nothing dry to wipe them with, mainly. Looking to the others, she asks, "So--everyone alright? No one seriously hurt, yeah?" That'd be just her luck, too--getting there too late to stop any serious injuries.

Yep! It's still satisfying to smack people around with the blunt end of a handgun. Domino looks at the two she just laid out with the slightest of frowns, "Idiots." It seems that the fighting's over so she puts the toys away before they start drawing undo attention. Once her hands are free she points right at Pink, saying "I don't know who you are, but I like your style. Timing's pretty good, too." Pink's looking alright (and meta, judging from that fading glow...) That leaves the third woman left. "Yeah, all good here. How about you, lady? Got in a little over your head tonight, huh."

It's not quite a word, more like a nod and a gasped affirmative sound in Tanya's direction from the blonde-- she's got air back in her lungs again, but now she's making up for lost breathing time. Pant pant. Domino gets a rueful look, and then Dinah's just leaning her butt against the wall, hands braced on her knees. "Whew. Yeah-- yeah. I was starting... starting to think I was fighting... Riot. Where the hell did they all come from?" And then she's waving her hands around and shoving off the wall. "Never mind that-- I don't feel up to giving a statement-- bar? On me."

A tired smile for the woman in black, and Tanya says, "Well, thanks. I like your more direct approach, too, so hey.  Something to be said about the lack of subtlety, yeah?" At least it's hopefully obvious she's not being a smart-ass; someone who looks like her and did what she just did isn't necessarily on a first-name basis with "subtlety". The notion of a bar, though, that perks her up a bit, and she settles her hands on her hips as she looks to the blonde. "A bar sounds like a good idea--if you think you can make it. I can maybe help, if you're hurt.  I'm not a medic, but I do have a few other talents besides smacking people and make them fall down." A somewhat wider smile there, for the Canary.

"Hey, sometimes you just have to let the sledgehammer do the talking," comes the reply to Tanya alongside a good-natured grin. Speaking of a complete lack of subtlety, Hero Girl just said something worthwhile. It's simple, direct, and very effective. Dom hears 'bar' and 'on me' and suddenly nothing else matters. "Lead on, girlfriend."

"Just bruised," says the blonde woman, giving a breathless little laugh. "So I can get there all right. Condor's parked in the garage a block up, meet you at Ace? It's on Fifth between Avenues A and B." She's finally straightening her little bolero jacket, tugging at the fifties-swimsuit hem of her one-piece. And then flipping her hair back and rearranging it carefully. And, very very belatedly, she grins big, and not rueful at all. "Thanks for the save, both of you. That was really vindicating to watch, gotta say."

She's been out of sight for a bit, but Heather comes trudging up towards.... well wherever, with what appears to be a police jacket worn over her sports bra. her shirt? Nowhere to be seen. Thank the lord she wore that nicely restraining thing for her running tonight. Even it has cuts and slashes in it, and its once blue color is mostly reddish now. She saunters on over as she lifts a damp rag she's using to wipe blood from her face, "Knives hurt." she mutters, her flesh unmarred now, fully healed. How'd she get the jacket? Well, she asked some cop who's a fan, quite nicely... if she could have it, and four of them tried to give one to her. One kiss to the cheek later, to the only one who wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and she's on her own again with the jacket on. "Okay. I'm damned starving now Tanya." she remarks as she approaches, "Oh, making new friends I see."

"Ace, huh? I think I know the place," says Tanya, arching a brow in thought. "Between A and B? Yeah, I know it.  I'll go collect--her." Tanya nods toward the approaching Heather. "Hey, Heather--food and drink at the Ace. It's a bar up a ways from here.  Blondie here's got a car, so I can offer one of you--" her index fingers wag between Domino and Heather, "--a lift on my motorcycle, but only one.  I could use a beer to relax after this crap, myself, so."

Domino simply sweeps a hand back to the returning Heather when Tanya makes the offer. "Much as I love a good bike ride, I've brought my own wheels. Seems like you both know each other, too. Whoever's going, see you at the Ace." Oh yeah, and to the Hero Girl goes one lopsided grin. "Just lucky to have been in the area at the time. It's no problem." Never hurts to be on the good side of some of the good guys, either. When one dabbles in nothing but that shady grey area, sometimes those contacts are the only thing that keeps her head above the proverbial water.

Domino simply sweeps a hand back to the returning Heather when Tanya makes the offer. "Much as I love a good bike ride, I've brought my own wheels. Seems like you both know each other, too. Whoever's going, see you at the Ace." Oh yeah, and to the Hero Girl goes one lopsided grin. "Just lucky to have been in the area at the time. It's no problem." Never hurts to be on the good side of some of the good guys, either. When one dabbles in nothing but that shady grey area, sometimes those contacts are the only thing that keeps her head above the proverbial water.

Blondie. Ee hee. "Black Canary," the fishnets fighter says with a laugh. "Or just Canary. See you there!" And then she's turning to jog -- in those heels what-- down the alley the opposite way from the cops; it's not long before she's disappeared around the far corner.

Well, some folks seem born to make an impression. Heather hops on the bike and rides 'bitch' behind Tanya. When arriving at the bar, she unzips the jacket and kinda does one of those... tying the bottom edges together like it was just some oversized shirt. She smirks to Tanya and mutters, "I really need a shower, but first... food. You're on my treat too." she remarks before she heads for the entrance, her trademarked hip-swaggering sashay that really is just... how she walks these days. Opening the door, she pauses for just a moment and remarks, "Lordy, it's like the place Daddy plays pool at back home." she remarks before moving further inside and heading for the bar, "Tell me you have burgers here.... I'll take five."

When it comes to hitting up a place for drinks, Dom's not one to waste any more time than necessary. Those on motorcycles do have a bit of an upper hand in dodging people and traffic and finding a place to park, however. She drifts into the joint as subtly as an autumn breeze passing through an open window, still decked out in that big, heavy coat and all of the goodies tucked away beneath it. Never know when a barfight might break out, after all. Rejoining the fighting group is easy enough to do, not many people look like this crew even on the best of days. "So we all happened to be in the same place at the same time, huh? You ladies sure cleaned house in a hurry. Name's Domino."

At least the wetness of the roads means Tanya doesn't drive like a maniac. Sure, Heather would probably survive any resulting--problems--but the Tomahawk wouldn't. Though, it's magically protected, anyway; Tanya doesn't mention that one, however. No point in even seeming like she wants to drive like a bat out of hell--even though she does. When they arrive at the bar and Heather slides off, Tanya hoists her leg over the motorcycle and follows the taller woman into the building. She chuckles at the woman's order. "I know why you can eat so much and still not gain weight--but I'm still jealous. I look at a Snickers bar and my hips inflate," she mutters jokingly, looking over to Domino. "And--yeah, actually, I was. Seems how it works out, don't it?" A grin, there, for the black-clad woman.

It's a lot warmer in the bar, and it's crowded; Black Canary's appropriated a conveniently-just-vacated tall-table, up by the front, and she's also still wearing the same outfit. Since it's mostly hipsters crowding the joint tonight, she's not getting a lot of hassle, just a lot of talking behind her back. She's got her drink, whatever it is, and she waves her other hand toward the others. "Tell them you're on my tab," she calls.

Being spoken to does get Heather's attention, but a question from the bartender and she laughs, "No, I'm not on her tab. Trust me, she's better off, and those five burgers... those are just for me. Everyone else is getting their own stuff." She grins and heads over towards the table before calling back, "Oh! And a diet coke!" There's a pause before she laughs, "Kidding! Make it a Bud Light!" That said, she settles in and says, "I feel like a wrinkle on top of a rumple." before she inclines her head, "Okay, Domino.. Black Canary." she looks towards Tanya and asks, "Did their parents hate them or something?" Then she grins and offers a hand to Black Canary, "Heather." she offers.

Aah, a seat. And the start of drinking festivities. To hell with the coffee, Dom's got liquor. Now more than ever she tries to be gentle with her motions, no one here needs to know about that hidden injury. ..Or the truth about her parents, for that matter. "So. Good looks, proficient skills, some flashy outfits and notable powers thrown in for good measure. You ladies part of some crime-fighting groups or the like? Because I get the feeling this is more to you all than a hobby." Keep the focus on the others and perhaps it won't come back to her. It's a simple tactic, she's used it lots of times.

Heading toward the table as well, Tanya grins and shrugs at Domino. "Not me; all I've got are the powers. This outfit is about as flashy as I get." A glance down to her soaked shirt and jeans. At least she's got her sports bra on, so nothing even PG-Thirteen to see, here. As she slides in beside Heather, she grins and says, "Hey, my parents named me Tanya Tun Yun Li. Guess how many kids with their text-talk figured that one out in two seconds?  So I'm not going to judge anyone else's names." Watching the way Domino moves to sit down--hrm. Tanya's got a bit of experience with injuries, even though it's plainly obvious that the woman doesn't want to say anything, so she thinks a second. Extending her arms under the table, she crosses them and stretches--which gives her an excuse to squeeze her eyes shut. That way the glow is kept behind her eyelids, and her hands are hopefully too far under the table for anyone to notice. She also touches Domino's leg with her foot--but not for any hanky-panky. Touch is required for her healing arts, and she'll kick the woman's own healing systems into overdrive.

"Ft. Secret identity!" the blonde says about the hatey-parents question, waving her hand in the air, but then shaking Heather's hand. She sips her g'n't and then ducks her head slightly, grinning up sidelong. "Legacy butt-kicker. My mom's old codename. Black Canary, I mean, not Legacy Butt-kicker. Wouldn't pick -that- up. And Domino, and Tanya. Good to know." She doesn't answer the question of teams, as such-- but she glances at Tanya, one brow quirking. "What's--" *insert blonde joke* "--your name got to do with texting?"

"Think of her initials." suggests Heather before she reaches a hand for her stomach, it's rumbling and such. Then she shakes her head and says, "Need some appetizers while the burgers cook!" back towards the bartender. "And Okay Canary, trust me when I tell you that you want me covering my own food. I just ordered enough for all of you combined, and I -will- eat it all myself. That healing power requires a metric ass-ton of calories to feed it."

Ending the stretch and waiting a tic for the glow to be gone, she opens her eyes and blinks a few times, then smiles at the others and says, "Umm--yeah, the initials. T-T-Y-L." She taps her finger lightly on the table with each initial, then she looks over to Heather and shakes her head. "I'm still jealous," she mutters, though good-naturedly, and looks back to Black Canary. "Anyway, Legacy, huh? That's--actually pretty damn neat.  Picking up where mom left off.  That's--really neat, actually.  Makes me wonder how many others do that sort of thing, if any." She arches a brow in thought, there, as she lightly rubs the table with her fingertip for wont of something better to do with her hands. Yes, she's something of the fidgety sort.

"--oh!" blinks Dinah, then laughs again, puffing her hair up away from her face with a quick exhalation. "Jeez. Yeah, that sounds like it'd be aggravating," she says with amused sympathy. "And sure, Heather, whatever you want to do." Then she sets down her drink and slides off the tall chair, gathering her hair away from her neck and shoulders again as she moves. "Probably a fair number. I know there's a lot of general mantle-passing, even among villains. It's a thing. I don't know how many are related and how many aren't, though. But listen, watch my drink? I have to use the ladies', and uh--" She glances down. "Sometimes it's inconveniently complicated. Don't call out the national guard even if you think I fell in."

"Legacy, like the Dread Pirate Roberts eh?" asks Heather. Then she shakes her head. "Seriously though, I got name jokes as a kid too. Mine were all about the Karate Kid. I mean, so my last name is Danielson, that's my -last- name." She shakes her head and devolves into smalltalk as she starts stuffing her face at an alarming rate when the food arrives. Fun times!