Coffee with Ninjas

September 05, 2017:

Helena and Emery meet and start to enjoy a lovely afternoon of coffee and shopping…and then the Red Hood, Black Canary, and the Huntress all make an appearance when mayhem breaks loose in the form of Ninjas. Lots of Ninjas. (Warning for Violence and Language)

West Side - Gotham

The massive Gotham State University campus is located here along with it's
student housing, on campus and otherwise. Countless students live in this
area including those who also attend the Furst Memorial College of

The college age nightlife is centered around this area also, especially
Kingstone Square a location cvered in bookstores, coffeeships, nightclubs,
dance clubs, juice bars, raves, concert sites and small community based
parks for the more 'outdoorsy'.

The West Side is also sometimes "Little Bohemia" and considered the arts
community of Gotham. It's intentionally trendy in some areas and what one
would expect of a college connected art heavy location. The Gotham Comedy
Club can be found here and is a big hit even amongst the younger crowds.


NPCs: League Ninjas



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Huntress, nor Helena stopped back by to visit Emery at least that was seen. But in Gotham even during daylight hours the shadows seem to dominate… Move… Have eyes.

But right now Helena is staring from behind shadowed lenses of sunglasses, a paper held before her but barely even read. The Gotham Gazette is as bleak as the town herself, so it is held open to the 'Funnies', the comic strips, although a thumb tucked between pages holds a place for something she will read later. For now?

The old ironworked table and chair set she claims in front of the cafe is upwind. The hipster place rolls out the blighting sound of eukelele and reek of patchouli and 'dirt', their prized home dipped incense. It made Helena wretch upon entry and her order be done like a disgusting mouth breather…

At least the bitter ass coffee is doing fine to wash off the taste of it too.

Her posture is prim, trained, a thing girls in 'proper' schools learn, her spine barely even touches the back of that metal chair, the shadow of lightly bowed contour easily seen beneath the flimsy white cotton of a button up blouse that only had 3 functional buttons and left it fall steeper at the back to rise upon front and leave abdomen exposed. Jean clad thighs are crossed, lightly and ornately tattered denim disappearing beneath the lacing of knee high boots.

Behind sunglasses, though, perhaps those deep blue eyes are watching, or completely far-and-away…


It so happens that a certain dark haired Butler passes by this cafe on his advantageous of days, dressed in a pair of well tailored dark grey slacks, a white button down and a coordinating dark grey vest…Emery Papsworth moves along quietly in a pair of lighter grey suede dress shoes….hair artfully toussled and a pair of mirrored shades covering his eyes.

A glance to the side brings the young woman into his line of sights and he approaches the table, smoothly slipping into the chair across from the dark haired beaity with a quirk of an eyebrow and hint of a dimpled smile, "I would never 'ave pegged ye for a hipster…"


The image of Emery reflects in those dark lenses, a reflection only as the cardboard cup is brought to her lips. Sipped from silently. Set back upon a scrolled-leaf of the table so as not to teeter. That hand then rests upon the table ledge, just beneath the leaf of newspaper page and *flicks* it casually.

It is when he seats himself without invite, and speaks the bridge of metal frame-wrok is drawn down over her nose to reveal the aqualine blue eyes upon him already, the Sicilian accent evident as she almost pegs him with the calm placidity of a gaze that totally wants to strike at him for that comment! Instead…

A Gazette page is flicked after tongue meets fingertip, although she never leaves her gaze from him. "It was the closest coffee shoppe," Really? Maybe… "… I hate that sound, and that smell." A pat to the table and just how it lays in wind directives.

"Never took you for one to wander a college level of activities." Touche? But it is told as a joke with the lift of one corner of her lips.

Here, it is a different rhythm than that of the Gotham Mafia. Less likely to be shot at.

Here's hoping for coffee in peace.

"The Kenyan Brew of the Day is not so bad if you add /hazlenut/." Smirk. Sip.


"Eh, there's a lovely record shop not far from here, or so the ting in me phone tells me." That is probably the actual reason why Emery is in the part of time and he inhales deeply, head tilting to the side as he analyzes the smell. "I knew a woman who smelled like this, her brother did as well but they were more of the hippie types…ye know, hemp clothing and unwashed hair…"

He then shifts in his seat, resting an elbow against the table and moving a hand to tug his shades down to angle a look at his tablemate. "I am not fancy enough to add nuts to me coffee, thats too rich for me blood, luv. but ye enjoy it."


A visible shudder pins Helen's spine more erect when Emery speaks of people he knew that resembled the smell leaking like tentacles from the cafe. A flick of thumb upon the held page of 'news' and tongue is bitten momentarily….

Moment had.

"The smell is just as bad as a lack of bathing. If it offends all five senses…" Hand lifts from kept pages and flicks in the air between them in a waffling gesture.

But his lean and reveal is met with one her own, elbow now upon the table between them, the cup held in a few fingers while -one- aids in dragging shades along the bridge of her nose to share that look. "Didn't take you for a Marley fan, but the nuts? I get it." A swirl of cup and it meets the table lightly while her other hand closes the paper and folds it in her lap where thighs twine in the cross.

"Any more trouble for you, Emery?" The question is one to linger and have many meanings between.


Emery chuckles softly, shaking his head and shrugging a shoulder. "What offends one person may arouse another, I've learned not to judge…and just know me own preferences." He winks and flashes a dimpled grin.

"Trouble? Ahh, ye mean like mafia people tryin' to ventilate me after mass? Nooo….not as of yet. The extent of me troubles these days is limited to tryin' to reassure me daughter that her nanny won't leave her until we are good and settled wit a new one." He smiles wistfully. "Are ye keepin safe?"


"Nanny issues? Better then the latter." A tilt of Helena's head while waves of noir fall over the white gauze that rests half-tilt upon tanned shoulder blade.

Finally, the glasses are tugged free, ears folded with clips to tuck into a front pocket of the flowing and over-grown white 'tee, remade to Versace levels of fashionist-ique.

"Is the nanny trained enough to deal with what you evidently have to deal with?" I can fight, but the devil wins.. Helena then flicks the paper to a closed fold, wrapping it in a fitting gesture to swat a dog with, before she sets it on the table beside her, between them, but her look to him becomes more studious, steady.

"Try it… Not too rich." A press of coffee cup along the table top before she rises in the lean that still leaves palms on table and fingertips on the offered mug. "Stop changing her nanny's. A child needs security." rising to a stand, a sweep of palm tucks her hair behind her ear as she gazes down the road.

"Tha place ya seek named Mother Murphy's?"

Nevermind the rest, right?


"Trained? Well…that's complicated. Until recently all they 'ad to be able to do was mind her, travel well…cook and and be able to tutor her in some of the fundamentals." Emery reaches out for the offered cup, lashes fluttering as he looks to the cup and then back at the woman and then to the cup.

He toys the inquiry over in his mind…flashing back to a younger version of the severe looking older Indian lady that usually accompanies his daughter. Revealing peach colored sari, hair flowing in the breeze, dark red sheets….

He quickly shakes his head and takes a long sip of the offered coffee. "But, I 'ave known her for quite some time. She wants to go home. I cannae keep her here." Emery regards the women almost sheepishly. "Security ye say? Well mebbe I will find someone here good to last for a bit." Then that question makes him blink. "Possibly…."


Hot and humid days call for still nights where the air just sits and when it sits in Gotham it mingles with the smog that forever envelopes the cityscape. A murky thick fog that clings like an unrelenting lover. Sticky. Gross. Gritty.

Home Sweet Home.

Jason Todd's ocular settings shuffle through one setting to the next until ambient light is giving him suitable allowance for sight. Something about toying with it always makes him feel like a hunter. Just tonight its more of a night he is the hunted. For now at least.

The footfalls on the opposite side of the wall are quiet, stealthy oriented almost inaudible. They're highly trained. Men and women who like himself are too good at this. Unearthly almost. Almost. This is what they do though. This is what they're meant for - the hunt, the fight, the struggle. He shouldn't expect anything but the best of the best.

Just like they shouldn't expect less than what is about to happen.

At first the sound is muffled. A rumbling under water and then it's a straight up cacophany of noise. A growing roar that escalates to a BOOM as fire and debris erupts outwards from the side of a Gotham highrise building.

Several floors unfinished will now have a lot more work required. More pay for the construction workers who will be in charge of that. It's a service to the city and it's people.

Through that hole in the side of the building shillouettes of men and women dive out on to the monorail that is screaming by, one of Gotham's famous transit systems that weaves throughout the city and it's many districts.


The numbers rise as shadow warriors land upon the in motion train. These nocturnal fighters all chasing one lone figure in a crimson red mask. Passengers of the train most of them being Gothamites hunker down. Prepared for their lives to be ended or worse, Smilex, frozen, death by plants, mauled by hyenas, maybe sat on by giant penguins. It is Gotham. No one knows how you could go any given day and most just want to get by without ever encountering the horrors they hear about. Tonight they are not so lucky.

Gunshots hammer racket through the stillness of the night, that explosion was louder but will only carry so far. A shaped charge. The man who set it knows what he is doing, while a Robin he learned how to set smaller explosives, controlled precise, harmless and while a man of the world he learned to handle the bigger more deadly stuff, the things that give chills, make hair stand on end and show off the superiority of man over nature.

The train itself and it's movement over tracks is the loudest sound of the night. Interrupted by grunts, a shrill scream as a leg is snapped at the knee and the occasional rip-roar of gunfire.

From the vantage of streetview the illumination is obvious. The highspeed scuffle not so much but the sporadic ignite and flare out of a gun in use can be heard and is easily recognized by those familar with such things. Not even college districts in Gotham are exempt from the city violence this peach of American society is renowned for.



'Mother Murphy's' it was…

Emery drank the 'nutty' coffee, despite being 'too rich'. The leave of his Nanny for his child is dicsussed, but recommendations from Helena are very…limited. She is not the one to recommend such things as her own life was not one of glistening Medals of Honor. But she is who she is…

Darkness comes, but not like the black reflection off vinyl plates and records. Italian Orchestral for Helena… all the way to Enigma, Tristania, Rasputina…

Emery's taste in Classical causing a banter between the two as their obvious differences come out even in accents.
A record smashed on his shoulder in some form of jest!

… Paid for…

The clerk glared at them as they left. But it seemed the theme for the day as they paused for more coffee, pastries of honeyed topping. A reflective surface to the lighting of the street lights and the flicker of rail car lighting as they pass overhead.

But only one passage of the Eastbound Rail at 9PM EST did the lighting flare with gunfire to accent, littering the sidewalk beneath with shell casings, causing Helena's booted foot to slideeee and her eyes direct upward as the monorail blurs past with the masked ((former Robin)) upon it.

"…Cazzo!" One hand flails to reach and bar Emery instinctively, the other is bracing her stance while she debates…

… But they have mere seconds as the rail car flies by!!


Black Canary has had a banner month so far. She's risen out from months of silence to patrol the streets once more. Reconnect with old friends? Push some heads through drywall? Take on a little bit of observe-and-protect for a five year old? The hits simply aren't stopping. The little notebook app in Dinah's PDA is going to be stuffed in ways the onboard memory can't keep up with.

Tonight being no different.

A hard SCREECH squeals out across the pavement as the Harley Davidson motorcycle peels into the turn, placing Black Canary driving parallel to the train. The wind whips blonde hair around her eyes as she dips, sneaking glances between buildings, at the fight that's taking place on it. With a grunt, she bucks her wrist and pops the clutch, riding the white line in between cars to race far, far ahead of the train.

Just as the train is passing under an overpass, a dark shadow clad in fishnet streaming long, blonde hair leaps over the security fence, legs kicking high into the air to right herself for the fall down onto the train's surface.


Dinah always nails the super-hero landing. Always.


The brawl atop the train looks like something out of an action movie. Back when the Kung-Fu and Ninja craze was wild in the Americas. Those shadowy forms pursuing the Red Hood are clad very much like modern day shinobi, armed with swords, shurikens and bows they look like they're 'out of time'. A step shy of Fuedal Japan.

"Great. One of you." Red Hood's greeting to the Black Canary not in the least welcoming. It is not meant to be. "Stay out of my way or I put a bullet in you. The League is mine."

The League, right, what Gotham vigilante wouldn't recognize or know of them? There appears to be a dozen exactly. Minus the one who 'fell' off and another that is rolling back and forth further down the train cars, clutching a shattered kneecap.
A knife sails past the blondes head - it doesn't look like the League of Shadows intends on being picky about targets tonight.

The monorail's tracks dipping low, taking them closer to street level at least for a few blocks before it will ascend again.


It had been a rather enjoyable afternoon…a brief and pleasant coda in the midst of a usually chaotic or suspenseful symphony. The trilling notes of a budding relationship ringing in his ears. Such a lovely montage in the company of a lovely Italian young lady. By now, a brief stop by a non-descript rental car has already been made so that a few bags can be stored away and a dark grey leather messenger bag can be retreived and slung across his body. The heavily accented banter that arises from whether or not it is a 'purse' or a 'man bag' seeing as it is designer grows playfully heated in between bites of honeyed pastry and sips of coffee.

Okay, not really coffee…basically a large coffee cup of expresso with two pumps of vanilla and some cinnamon but that is not important.

What is important however, is that the Irishman clad in dark grey slacks and suede shoes…sipping something highly caffeinated…tenses up and his head cocks to the side in time to see and hear things in slow motion…the loud explosion he hears in the distance because that isn't close to being quiet and the orange glow and cloud of dust and debris from that office building is a side glance away from being distracted by that….when he's stopped abruptly.

Ever the classic hero, he grips a half-eaten honeyed pastry with a small piece of white parchment paper in his left hand and a cup of something that could probably be used to dissolve dead organic tissue in his right hand. His chest makes contact with that extended arm and the eloquent Italian exclamation is echoed by the lilting Irish exclamation of. "JAYUS f*ck me!" As he looks towards the cars passing above him and turns slightly in a 180 to take in the chaos unfolding, doing mental calculations of the best route for escape, his main concern however keeps drifting towards where the building blew up. He is so rattled he takes a calm sip of his drink.


Black Canary crouches low, spine dipping in a way that Catwoman would be proud of, to hold onto the top of the train in her first seconds of contact with it. Her breath fogs against the plexiglass window beneath her, snorting out a gust of none-too-pleased to be riding atop the rails.

"Oh, you'll put a bullet in me? I upgraded my rail pass to crazy asshole ninja fight you jac-" Canary's voice cuts out sharply as the knife sails past. She dips her shoulder just in time, narrowly dodging the cut which leaves a fine mist of blonde hair shorn from her shoulder. "-damnit that line was good, too."

Black Canary digs her cuffed, black boots into the ceiling of the rail car, dips her backside down, and rushes forward, timing one of Red Hood's higher kicks to sliiiide under his leg into a springing upward knee, pushing a ninja back.

"Whoever you are, if you put a bullet in anyone beneath us," Canary barks over her shoulder to Red Hood. "You're gonna wish I let them kill you."


The final bite of Helena's pastry is still drawn off fingers to remove the glaze, gnashed between teeth now clenched in a fashion that is a portrayal of ever-ready!

The hand that rose to splay across Emery's chest begins to reveal more in the fall of the sleeve of cotton white cuff along her wrist. The glance his way, though, is more a regard, an apology…

… The motorcycle arch overhead, the trail of blonde behind. A familiar ROAR, a familiar sight…

«Emery's apartment seemed much more small that night…!»

"..dispiace…" A whisper as the heel of her palm then impacts Emery's plexus and she sends him back and away from her! If not for safety as stray marks of bullets line the street below the silhouette of Canary and the train Hood is upon.

"Welcome to Gotham."

Canary is already landed upon the monorailed subway-liner and Helena is already headed the opposing way of Emery despite the fact they ((ALL)) should know better in his regard… He has hinted enough despite their guises.

A fall in and out of shadows, below scaffolding akin to Lower Whacker Drive, metal adjacent lining is suddenly wrapped, pierced… and the speeding mono-rail is yanking her into the air beneath the tracks while the white blouse is shed to reveal the lining of a 'Cross' painted beneath along her skin, fingers wrapped around the grapple-line beneath.

"Shoulda told him… Gotham will kill you…"


The assassin that just got a knee staggers back, no flashy backflip. Not on a moving train. They're not idiots. They're just murderers dedicated to the vision of the Demon's Head.

The kick reels back in while the Red Hood gives Black Canary a studying stare then pointedly takes aim on one of the League of Shadow's warriors and fires off a quick three round burst.
"Sorry. I couldn't hear you over the fishnets." The target flops on to the monorail then topples in between cars.

"Nice moves but Amateur Night in this Fight Club was yesterday. Tonight is for the big boys and ga— " The red mask the man is wearing tips to the side as a throwing star juts out of it. He pauses there a moment before opening up fire again, bullets in a stream spraying down at the offenders. Angry shots that are a little wild at first. No marks hit this time.
Huntress presence unaccounted for as is Emery. They're bystanders currently. Off the radar for the Hood and the Shadow Warriors.


Did that just…

Emery's eyes flick from the wrist to meet Helena's eyes because he is knocked back by that shove, teetering dangerously and tottering precariously but he manages to stay on his feet and does not drop his drink or his honeyed pastry as he turns quickly to watch her run off and he just jogs a bit, out from under the monorail to squint up a bit to see his former companion swing away and the shadows of the figures on top.

He holds up his arms like 'Seriously?!'. "Are those mad moterf*ckers surfin' on the…oh right, yep. Of course. Ninjas!" He calls out after the Huntress's invisible dust. "TIS wasn't in the BROCHURE!"

Welcome to Gotham…right. He's noticing a trend here as he stares for a little longer and exhales shakily. Infants…babies. Out there, fighting ninjas on top of a train while he sips his drink and then stares at the cup and then takes off walking in the direction the Huntress headed off, continuing along that monorail with a shake of his head. "Hold on me stalkery baby dominatrices….M' Comin…gawd, ninjas?! Really?"


Canary ducks down in a twist at the sound of gunfire. Nothing burns in her twist, so the blonde keeps moving, but a spray of blood has upset the golden streams of her hair, and left the back of her jacket looking like Jackson Pollack painted ninja on a leather canvas. People. Are. Dying.

Dinah turns her eyes, wrapped in a domino mask and caked with black paint, to glare daggers at Red Hood. It isn't a glare that lasts long before she's bending backwards at the hips to avoid the swing of a ninja-to that is hellbent to shear her face off.

"Maybe you would have dodged that if you knew how to talk and fight at the same time!" Dinah growls, backing up and lifting her fists, dodging slash after slash. "Put down the god-damned guns there's KIDS beneath us!" Dinah orders one more time, palm-striking the elbow of the ninja and following up with an arm-bar that sends the sword flying out of his hands. One boot to the chest and the ninja flies to land on a nearby rooftop.


The figure that fell between cars?

Helena left the gauzy top of white cotton and three buttons, to fall below and leave her in the upper-most attire. The cotton peels from forearms an hangs away in fetters of white while the metallic purple glistens between ghostly white fetters. Teeth, nails, grip… Tearing away while the grapple carries her at a high-speed across Gotham Skylines… The hand gripping a falling figure between cars while blue gaze pitched in lashed of noir strands casts back towards Emery… A similar taste of pastry still lingering while the body is captured between fingers and she is lofting the body upward!!

Red Hood is not only met with Canary, a foot-beaten path of Emery below… But the body he dispatched is returned like the gift that keeps on giving! Bouncing along the top of the train while the black/purple/blue/silver-lining form of Huntress appears behind, slamming the body in a rebound over the surface.

A thrust of hand forward and it bears a trigger-loaded Crossbow, unfolding mechanically to span out the resistance of thread and lock a bolt into place.

Who is Huntress aiming at??


"Yeah. Your point?" Red Hood taunts but proceeds to explain, "Less-than-lethal, babe." He clicks out a magazine with his thumb whilst quickly loading another in, "Modified soft polymer impact rounds. They leave bruises, maybe break bones, at worst some kid loses an eye."
Break. "Except that chump who fell off the train. Fairly certain hes dead. One less scumbag on my streets."

The freeflow of combat moves from Black Canary is distracting, Red Hood didn't expect to encounter anyone like her tonight just randomly. "Who taught you?" A question while his forearm guard blocks a kusari-gama, the hook of it snagged between two jutting out blades. Very Batman stylish. The same Assassin is yanked forward by the length of his chain and given a heel kick to the side of the skull. KO.

"Your sidekick looks just as ridiculous as you. Go-Go-Gotham Dancers decided to get ultra-violent this season? I mean, I know times are rough right now with the economy being what it is but there has to be other career choices." Yeah, he can now see Huntress as well.

The jab about not being able to talk and fight ignored, mostly, hes great at multi-tasking! An electro-charged pistolbutt to the throat of an unwary Assassin says as much. This leaves the black clad fighter choking for air and having an electricity induced spasm in one swipe. Apparently the League is also good at multi-tasking.


"And they said chivalry's dead! Impact rounds that might only take an eye out!" Canary chides in response as the bloodied body comes bouncing back to the top of the train. She lifts one knee high in a muay thai way, keeping one leg rooted for balance as she steps back. "ONLY." Canary turns into an oncoming ninja, gripping his gi and lifting her elbows, twisting him to place a body between herself and Mr-Less-Than-Lethal-Rounds.

This is when she spies Emery running alongside the train…and the Huntress on the other side of the Red Hood.

"Says the guy who jammed a red M&M onto his dome. I'll tell you what? Knock this shit off and I'll tell you who trained me. Spoilers? I've never taken a tae-bo class." Dinah yells back to Red Hood. She jerks her hips to one side, driving a fishnet-clad knee into a ninja's ribs. The crack is audible, and with a grin downwards to Emery, she throws the ninja down into his path.

"Yanno what? Fuck it. Shoot him in the knee." Dinah yells to Huntress with teeth bared between two layers of red-painted lips. "We'll tie them all down and let the GCPD sort them out."


The body that was wounded, yet unconscious and falling…

Unnamed to Huntress, but she caught it and with her own arrival brought the 'gift' with, pressing the body atop the racing car of the train while her other am is raised and her finger is on the trigger of a crossbow!

"The badge is corrupt!" Stated between Huntress' teeth lined in a Cheshire grit while she lunges in from behind Red Hood, those knee-high laced boots seeking to land a kick to the back of a knee or beyond if he dodges!

.. Bottom line she is planting and the silver-lined tips of arrows aim downward… "Less-than…WHAT?" Dark lips curl into a smile at the sight of Red Hood….

I have heard of you..

// Play your cards close, Mr. Hood….//

Emery is regarded in a glance below, the cast from Canary bringing that moment of hesitation while a body descends the gap between…

"Beh…. Merda…"


"That was a joke. Maybe you're too young or too old to get it. I'll bank on too old." Too old for the Christmas Story? Serious stretch when someone looks like Dinah Lance." They will most definitely take out an eye." The kick out of peripheral caught almost too late. The kick connects with the meat of his thigh as he sidesteps and re-aims high midstagger, one gun aimed at each of them. "Shall we try for one each? Pirates are all the rave this year."

At this point he is dead center the Assassins and the not-currently Birds of Prey. His odds shrinking.
"You heard of me? Good. Then you know what I am capable of. We're moving this party and neither of you are invited." The guns do go off in loud KLAKS. Shots fired in a strafe at Dinah and Helena. Not accurate at all hes just using it as an escape, leaping from the monorail while its still low to the ground to land on the ground below, the top of a car to be exact. It's hood compacting underneath his sudden weight. Light and fast the remaining League of Shadows fighters pursue him, Black Canary and Huntress completely ignored. They are not the prey tonight. The Red Hood is. Emery's view allowing him to watch the whole ensemble of Ninja Theatre descend to the Gotham streets from above. It's very elegant if there wasn't so much carnage and bloodshed promised.


"Oh…Emery, lets go swing back through Gotham. See if we can find one of those lovely young ladies, you met before. Aye, they are probably 1/16th of yer age, but lookin' has never been a sin. Well it is, but they were really nice…what could possibly go wrong old chap…noooting." Emery mutters under his breath as he walks along, occasionally craning his neck to look up at the train and watch the youngins go at it with an expression of mild concern. "That's it! Kick their ARSES darlins'!" Comes the encouraging chant and a pump of a fist gripping a pastry for far too long.

There is no time to mourn the crushed pastry or the sticky bits of smooshed dough and honey in between his fingers because right because he is gifted with a ninja. A ninja moving like his ribs have been cracked but a ninja none the less and the Butler stands there for a brief second looking ever much like the startled pedestrian, gripping his coffee with wide eyes. "Do ye 'ave the /time/ by any chance?" Timid little grin. Then he's snapping into action, there's a quick lunge and espresso is tossed into the Ninja's face, the have eyeholes and he takes advantage of it, cup is tossed aside as the splash took the place of a jab and he follows through with a quick right hook, using the momentum to slip a hand around to the nape of their neck, slamming a knee back into those damage ribs as he grapples and slams knee after knee back into those ribs.

He looks up in time to see…the ninjas descend from the train like really bad diarrhea flowing into the streets and he looks up at the trains. "OI! C'mon then ye bloody gorgeous angels! AFTER the bastards!"


"Oh, you seriously did NOT just make an old joke." Black Canary's eyes narrow. The coil of her fingers, unfurling and re-wrapping into cracking knuckles is no less a refocusing of the blonde vigilante's chi. With an exhale, she tries to channel her 'oh no he didn't' through her arms, exhaling the bad chi, in with the good. She's about…to…beat…his…


It really does look like the gun's going to put a bullet through her head. When the gun goes off, Dinah jerks her hands up and dips suddenly to one side. She can almost feel the wave of the bullet pass her, and when she shoots back up with elbows bent and head forward, lips parting angrily to cry…he's gone.

Black Canary gives Huntress an exasperated look. Nostrils flaring, she turns and leaps off of the train to slide down the metallic rain-covering of the next station's stairwell, and rolls to a stop not far from Emery.

"Nice work!" Canary salutes the man with two fingers and a press of digit to lips as she takes off at a run. Arms swinging, the leather jacket has to be shrugged back onto her bare shoulders, she's running so hard. "If you're following this bring your GOD-DAMNED CRUCIFIX because this guy's going to be lucky if I don't make him eat that helmet of his!"


Huntress did not expect that! The kick is landed and as she follows through to plant a booted foot to th car's roof in seek to drag his knee-cap with heel she is standing just aside Red Hood…

The lazed drag of eyes goes from Canary to Hood while a glisten of metallic muzzles threaten! "….Ah mov..!" A rise of forearm and the impact send her arm back in a flail, followed by the arch of spine and her body while the train speeds away, free of League, Hood, Prey, and Emery who is eliminating threat at a ground level!

A somersault casts Huntress' body back towards the streets and for a moment it seems limp, impact being 6 Feet in time with Canary and that of the Red M&M Hood.

The landing comes hard, but is blanketed as if by a tarp, a cape that softened the impact to billow around her figure, peeling like ichor from a shadowed puddle.

"I will…" A sweep of the back of her hand across split lips…

"…Make you pay…" A murmur as blood paints the back of her wrist.

On Canary's side!

Ready to avenge her interrupted coffee/pastry/music moment!

"Invited by your presence alone.." A slow rise peels her from pavement, but when shadows shift a glistening bladed edge of a boomerang is brandished!

A swift motion one way as the weapon moves opposing, casting sparks upon impact. Three. Points. Met.

"Let me know when to say Amen!"


A forward roll in to a lunge from the three point stance has him tackling one of the Assassins as they touch down, several very painful clubs to the head and hes aiming a gun at Emery and firing. Two shots shy of the man by three feet as another of his pursuers hits the cement.
"Get off the streets." He tells Emery in the most threatening and deep voice he can. Extra rasp added to it. It's not like he knows who the hell the man is or isn't.
On his feet again he is running, a look over his shoulder to see Canary and Huntress still there, "Seriously, I'm not interested." They're not just behind him though, so are the small number of ninjas. Arrows being shot off and then they're springing away from a discarded flashbang. It's brilliant white snap and scent not good for anyone who decided to look directly at it.


The Irish Butler had been moving like someone who's engaged in a few fisticuffs. Gotten a few lucky blows and he takes a few punches that look like they might've smarted. He forces a grin as Black Canary runs past and looks suitably like someone out of their depth but willing to help out as the Huntress passes him as well.

That grin fades though as they get far enough away from him and he takes another punch to the stomach, fist hitting abs that tighten reflexively with the blow. Teeth are gritted as grabs the ninja by the throat as they are near one of those railing and shoves him roughly into the metal pole with a THUD, watching the body slide down as he backs off, hands by his sides clenching and unclenching as he resists the conditioning to finish the job.

He then jumps, throwing himself into a roll out of the way when SHOTS are fired his direction, turning his head to watch the intended targets fall down and he stares at the Hood for a moment, watching him run away and calling out after him. "Oh /ye/ can just f*ck right off and get a f*cking throat lozenge…"

He turns slightly to watch the boiling fray, narrowing his eyes and then calmly walking after the women who just ran past him, unbuttoning the cuffs to his shirt shirt and rolling up his sleeves, exposing a few of the iconography based tattoos on his forearms. When he walks from under that monorail, he's reached into the man bag resting on his right hip to withdraw a custom designed fighting dagger, not unlike a stiletto but with both cutting edges and thrusting points in mind, its ring hilt wrapped in black leather and he idly twirls it.

He is starting to edge towards the perimeter of the fray though, watching not like a bystander though, but like a predator. Turning suddenly when he feels a presence behind him.

He doesn't move like a frightened pedestrian. He blocks a blow with his forearm, drops to his knee rather quickly to slam a dagger into a knee, and then flips the ninja over his shoulder after yanking it out and then slamming a punch down against his throat.

Then he gets knocked aside with a kick to his side. "Oh for f*cks sake! WAIT yer bloody turn!"


"MOVE! Get down! Get out of the way!" Canary yells to the shrieking and fleeing bystanders with a wave of her fingerless-gloved fist. The backhanded wave of her arm cuts through the air as she gains on the heels of the ninja chasing the Red Hood. She goes silent the last few feet of space. Sound would ruin the fun.

Black Canary kicks the outside of the ninja's knee, sending him stumbling forward into a roll, which Canary is more than pleased to use his tumbling back as a stepping stone for a leap high into the air. For a second, she's weightless, flying after the Red Hood with one arm extended until her knees come to land in a crashing ride upon a nearby ninja. She twists her fishnet-clad hips and rides the ninja down to the concrete, somersaulting to send the ninja flying towards the Red Hood's back.

"I. SAID. STOP!" Canary, then, makes a mistake. She turns back to check on Emery. Blue eyes shoot wide as he's taking kicks. The moment's hesitation costs her precious seconds and attention span, for when she looks back to the Red Hood and the chase…


Everything turns white. Bells ring repeatedly in Black Canary's ears and she slides to a stop, bracing a forearm over her eyes and shoving a hand out protectively to swipe through the coma-white of her vision.


"Beh… Merde…!" The rebound of the boomerang kicks up sparks around them, bladed edges catching parts and pieces that only come to realization later….too late….

But the wounds are easily kicked open as reminders wih a flutter of shadows, the impact of heavy sole to draw one assassin down into a puddle of his own blood, keeping a stance until Canary's rally-call draws her attention up, a hawk drawn from quarry, the hooked bill raked away in the yank of a bolt from the ninja's shoulder.

Loaded, locked. Drawn. Ready.

A metallic tip now coated in red is along side a hip, mate to the other as leather clad contours nudge weaponry with every step, but from thigh still baring the draping for shredded denim a throwing knife is drawn… Flipped in fingers!

A sudden fwip of motion and Huntress is moving past Emery but doing a *QB SACK* Underhanded toss of a blade to him for defense… offense!…

"Move… Cagna…!" Get out the Way!! "I will be your eyes and ears, take him down before this spreads!" A hook of arm under Canary's and the blur of motion takes them aside Emery as Huntress speaks towards Hood.

"Mop up! I heard, you don't leave your messes for 'little birds!'" A rise of hand and a curl of fingers calls it all in.

She may leave trails of blood, but not for two who she has come to actually…maybe…like…

Come on "Hood"… Prove…


It's that quick that the skirmish seems to wind down. A rooftop fight, a cleared out building, the top of a monorail and then the trash littered stanky streets. League of Shadows ill prepared. They should have brought more guys.
Red Hood is reveling in this small victory until a ninja lands atop of him, not from it's own volition but discarded rather intentionally there by Black Canary. The stubble stagger and skid across the pavement has a low grunt escape him, then cursing followed by laughter and he is picking himself up slowly. The League starts to peel back, their namesake being attributed to as like smoke they're fading out in to shadow, even their fallen are being collected. Battle won. War still ongoing.

Red Hood is now looking from Huntress to Flashblinded-Black Canary to Emery, "Didn't I tell you to run? Nevermind, I don't even have a translator that can make sense of whatever it is you're saying." He didn't see him fighting but there are assassins crawling away from him or being gathered. "What is this? What is going on? You really don't want to try and take me down. Not tonight. So I'm going to be generous by saying lets all just pretend none of this ever happened."


"We go our own ways." A flitter finger motion mocking Huntress' own is given.


Kick, Kick, Kick - Emery is on his knees, gripping his dagger and taking the brunt of the kicks with blocks of his arms before he finally pushes to his feet in a fluid motion, stabbing his dagger nearly through the ankle of one of his attackers and wrapping an arm around the lower leg of the second, dropping his shoulder and twisting as he jerks forward. The /crack/ of something horrible being done to that cretin's knee is audible as the 'Butler' staggers forward and out of their reach.

Dark hair falling into his eyes, shirt sleeves rolled up and well a few buttons have ripped free of his shirt and vest, and there are stains by now but he has no time to lament as he reaches up and catch the blade tossed by Huntress and he offers a small bow before a kick to his arse has him staggering forward. "Did ye just literally /kick/ me in the /arse/?" He looks over his shoulder at the guilty party, ducking an attempted head kick. He flips that knife in his hand, bending down to yank his dagger out of another person's leg…

But are they retreating?! Yes…They are. It appears they are and he watches after them and narrows his eyes. Attention is now on the wimmen and the lad and he looks between them. A long pause. Back to the lad. "Okies. I tink these lovely ladies here would be persuaded to let ye go, if ye kindly apologize for being an arrogant tw-cu-feminist approved word to replace the one I'm tryin' not to be using and say ye are /sorry/ for bringing the Cirque du Mayhem with ye like a bad case of the clap." He looks between them. "Are ye goin' to play nice in front of alll tese people who are scared and runnin' away who could come away form here tinkin' ye all saved them?"


Black Canary, locked in a white room where everything sounds like squealing feedback and blindness, nearly elbows Huntress in the throat when her arm is grabbed and she unceremoniously turns into a skittering of tall heels and fishnets OUT of harm's way. She waves one arm around her side, trying to keep balance, somehow still trying to fight through her flashbang nausea.


Canary wrenches her elbow from Huntress and slams her fist into her palm, shaking her head furiously to try to wash away the cobwebs. Her lip peels back from her teeth and she's grousing to herself.

And then the fog begins to clear. Like Han Solo, it goes from a dark blur to a big bright one.

"What? No, we can do this tonight, just give me a friggin' second. Shhhhi-" Canary wobbles and points in Red Hood's direction…which is a finger jabbed in Emery's face. "Look, you can't go putting all those people like that in danger, pal. Paps? Do you have a bottle of water or something. When I can see again this is definitely not going into the 'pretend this never happened' bucket. This sure as shit isn't Junior Prom."


"Hahahah amateurs." Red Hood mocks with a flourish and then fires off a grapnel gun, "Stay out of my way or get put down. These are my streets." The zipcord sound and hes drawn up to the higher railing and gone. A good headstart in case they want to continue chasing him.


Canary swings her arm around pointing to where the Red Hood…was.

It's a quiet place.

"…he's gone, isn't he?" Canary asks the collective she's huddled in with.

"Please tell me he's not gone."


"Like that prom date you mentioned…" Gone…

Huntress murmurs towards canary as they strafe back-to-back while a fingertip tilts Canary's directive towards where Hood had departed, following her aim of triggered Crossbow.

"Em, you got any Teddy Grahams in there? thing the blood sugar…" A thumb to Canary (while she is blind!), but those deep blue eyes narrow in the path Hood retreated into. Ninjas and all cataloged…

Fade to Black…

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