Eff Why Eye

June 13, 2016:

After the events in DTF, Harper and Catwoman make their escape and return to East End

Characters

NPCs: Rodaga and the Alley Cats

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

The race to leave the Pit Fight was high speed, and Catwoman was stuck using partial conciousness to cling to Harper's back as she sped through the city streets to ditch their tail that bore higher speed bullets leaving puck marks in pavement as well as walls of crashed and flipped vehicles.

…But eventually they entered back into Gotham and the border of East End, Catwoman wanted to go nowhere else so when they slowed at the borders very distincly outlined by the fall of old trash walls, she slipped from the back of the bike, but one hand remained braced on the seat while she took slow and deep breaths - breaths that sounded wet inside. The last fight was meant to be the true last for her and if it was not for a few heroes it would have taken all 9 of her lives. Instead…

One eye (not swollen shut) stares at Harper, the white nearly completely red with the trauma to it. "Thank you."

Yep, she said it.

Beat to hell and back. Those dudes had a way with women. With their cool toned eyes and tanned skin, and all of those muscles upon muscles upon muscles…

And Harper thought she had the worst of it, a busted lip and probably a cracked rib. One of her fingers were bent crooked-like but she still managed to grip the bars of the bike and go-go-gooo. She may or may not have popped a willie just to make herself laugh. But winding through the streets after all the chaos had calmed down felt good. Felt good against the stinging burn within her eye. The wind caressing her slightly bruised scalp, even her cheek which thankfully wasn't fractured but bruised. And once the winding of the motor dies down as she stops in front of the Tin Roof, she lets out a sigh, turning the key to shut the engine off.

'Thank you.'

Harper doesn't bat an eye, but she does lift a hand to rub at her neck, stopping short as she feels her finger bend wrong, drawing down upon it against her chest to snap it back into place with a quiet grump. She's going to cry in the car later.

Who's car? Someones!

"No big." She wrinkles her nose. "You alright there?"

It is hard to evade that single eye and theassessment under the gaze that held onto Harper, just as she reaches up and takes down that mask hood that they had fashioned for her. Clawed fingers rip through the faux leather and tear it apart, leaving the halves to fall into the gutter at their feet. She wanted out of it all, this lie. That's all the past year has really been, a mouse-maze of deceit. Lie is a strong word afterall, and perhaps the discarded mask felt the same as the ichor from East End's waterways spilled over it in the rain.

"Yeah." Catwoman watches Harper when she says 'No Big.' Like a typical Bats wave off of their praise for duties. Yet they did not have to bother with her and they did to the extent of a beating Harper took for distraction.

At that point though the darker crevices in East End came to life and it was a flood of simultaneous caucophany. Guns cocked and safeties clicked off. Last the Alley Cats knew was Bats and Birds were unwelcome, and one was here with their missing person of the quarter. Gloves are now getting shed and when one joins the rent mask a hand goes up, the one not holding her aloft using Harper's bike. "Easy." She says to them, a total of 15 encircling, easing, but their aims do not lower.

"Ah, //hell na! Bitches please, I know those make you feel good.." Rodaga bursts through a wall of three, manicured hands pushing the guns down in his passing as he briskly saunters to the two, sucking on teeth as eyes snap back and forth. "Chu! Where the fuck you been? You make a bitch worry. And, AH! You bring a birdy home with chu?" A snap of dark eyes back and forth, a hand sweeping up to knock a curl from his face.

"You both look like /ch/shit."

Catwoman just looks from Harper to Rodaga, her people and back. "As much as you are. I will be." Again, silent thanks this time though.

The sudden movement from Catwoman had her cringing. She wasn't going to lay a hand to the woman after all that they've both been through. And a thank you and 'its all good' didn't seem to offend or become all too harmless, right? But, the hood was torn asunder, Harper's eyes raise for a moment, then lower again, leaving her expression almost blank behind the cracked lense that shows off one of her dark eyes. Hah.

She pretty.

Though once the East End brimms to life, Harper was already off the bike and on her feet, one hand pressed to her back towards her own modified electro-shock pistol, though bringing a taser to a gun fight was bad news, Harper had NO faith what so ever in her training to make it out of this one alive.

I would like to thank my mom for leaving me behind with a rat bastard dad who beat me and her son to near death every other Thursday! Or was it Tuesday. It seems the T's made Daddy Row mad.

I would also like to say to my little brother, I love you homo. You're the best little gay boy a sister could ever have, even though your farts smell like toxic napalm..

And Batman. You ol' scooter! You coot! You hoot and a half! ….Bye.

Her body was ready, tense, heart beating within her ears as the adrenaline began to pump, ebb and flow through her brains activa.. whatever. Chick was about to go -DOWN-.

But Rodaga's appearance nearly had her grinning as she eases up on her stance and remains lack. Tired. Beat to fuck and back. Rode hard and put away wet. Probably on her period too.

Them cramps.

"Uh.. thanks for the assessment? Man? Lady.." Ah.. this was awkward. She turns towards Catwoman, then offers up a nod of her chin. "Think I better get back to my.. uh.. perch. Cause you know. I'm a bird. That stuff." Gunman Jumpman Awkward!

The tension did nothing for the hold on the weapons, the motions from Harper have the one's at her front where Rodaga had pushed down comes right back up and to the ready, one man at her back dared to close the gap with her hands reach, pointing his Glock at the back of her head, just at the nape. But in a flash what he finds is Catwoman pressed between them, her own throat at the end of the barrel, and battered facade staring down the sight of the barrel then lifting to him.

"I said easy!" The final word nearly a hiss as split lips peel back to flash teeth, lower lip quivering against the draw back of lips and the tension in a swollen jaw.

"But boss she's reachin'!" A point of his other hand and Catwoman is tip toeing fingers along the barrel to plug her pinky into the chamber, pushing -back-.

"After what she's been through, let her reach, but that's all anyone should be doing. Put. The. Gns. AWAY!" The final word echoing against the Tin Roof and along the streets.

"She is why I am here, her and a Bat, as well as a Fantom. Consider from here on out… Truced." The silence thereafter resonated like a call to an abyss.

Rodaga stared, then tsk'd Harper's way, hands rising in a flippant flurry as he pivoted, then stepped back towards the Club's entry, clearing a path with a 'Bzzzz!' and flicks of wrists at the Alley Cat's. "Don't know a Queen when she sees one. /Arrempujate pa ca!/" And the door slams open, Rodaga waiting in the entry with a snap and point inward. "But you two look another punch shy of Quasimoto, so get in here. Cheesus."

"I owe you, and looks like you're being left without much choice." A single hook of Catwoman's arm into Harper's defensive one and she is being guided, arm in arm, into the Tin Roof.

"If you're that literal and feisty, I can empty a cage for you." Catwoman would wink, bu it was a permanent fixture on her face right now.

Goodness. Harper was ready to just hop on her bike and ride out the rest of her existence bleeding to death after being shot like five hundred times. It wouldn't be any Thelma & Louise, it'd be more like.. 'Bitch Please', she at least had to save her face so that she'd be recognizable in the casket. Ten seconds away from piddling herself, Harper straightens up as Catwoman blocks her way, Harper leaning over with a slight grin and a crossing of one visible eye and a stick out of her tongue while the Alley Cats get berated into the ground.

Fuckers. Here's a middle finger to you too, big guy. And a blow of a kiss.

You there? You can kiss my..

Harper stops patting her ass quick enough, standing straight up into a heros pose with hands upon her hips, chin lifted towards the sky. Yes, Harper didn't know a Queen from nothing. Though if you get Cullen around Rodaga? Those freak flags would fly. "What's his problem?"

But that question goes unanswered as she's yipped and tugged into action, her body at a slight hunch as she tries to get her footing, her gloved hand reaching out towards her bike as a final farewell to fun times had. Her batbike.. her glorious little..

"..What?! God no. I mean. It was just a euphemism. You know, lil joke? You're Catwoman. Kinda like you having a litter box called a bath.. er.. catnip in.. no.. you lick.. heey. I'm not old enough to drink eff-why-eye.."

Walking past her men with Harper in tow, the Aleey Cats watch, curiousity evident, some even more tense while others holster their weapons and follow, mainly the leads bearing the marks of status in scars beneath their eyes and patches on jackets. "Things are going to change a bit. Give it a few nights and we will all talk. I promise."

That and when speaking does not sound like she's breathing through a scuba tube of water.

"Don't taunt my people, they've had it hard enough and your /family/ and mine were on opposing ends through the most of it…. For a portion of them, this is their sanctuary." Okay, -a lot- of work is to be done. But as they slip inside people are all seated on the tables, chairs and bar just watching and waiting, mostly women in here clad in nearly nothing to lady of the night attire suiting to their Red Light walks. No one says a word though as Rodaga seems to be waiting just at the edge of the stage with hands on bare hips, drummng over the top of his jeans that hang low on his hips and bear fashionable tattering down the fitted legs. "Limp faster, hookers. I ain't got all day, the girls' show must go on and you two need more then Bactine." Rodaga knows how to rub it in. *Snap-snap*

Back behind the stage he flips a curtain out of the way and pulls out a huge briefcase that opens into an accordian level of shelves full of medical gear. In fact it was painted white with a red cross on it.

A girl comes in behind them with a tray of shots lined up and Catwoman takes it from her with a kiss to her cheek in parting. "I got hit so hard in the head I think it affected my hearing. What was that about zipping my fly?" A shot glass is held to Harper while she takes her own.

"Drink up creature one and two." A tick tock sound is made as his finger snap to and fro as a reminder. "Sorry, don't got time for being soft." A snap up-down of his gaze and he gestures to them with a flick of wrist. "Well. Off with the clothes, let's push back whats broken, stitch whats torn, powder your asses and get you some bottles."

Catwoman just looks at Harper, then Rodaga and tosses one shot glass down. "Missed you too asshole."

"Bitch."

Hiss.

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