The Luckiest Girl In The World

"Ooooh, it's got an in-suite hot tub-slash-jacuzzi," Kathy said, reading from the room's amenities list, even as she sprawled out on the king-sized bed and could just go looking for said amenities. "And an in-room bar, flat screen color TV with premium cable package--no porn, though, sorry, gotta pay extra for that. 24-hour room and laundry service, in-suite massages, oh my god yes, and a seven-head luxury shower." She paused, thinking that over. "Might have to try that, hmm."

Sometimes you just had to get off the island for awhile, like right after your soul was partially eaten by a skinless tremens and you were now questioning whether or not you should ever drink again. That was, in fact, a very good time to leave the goddamn island, just to get your head on straight and remember that that kind of thing wasn't normal.

Right now, already in a bathrobe that was thick and warm and just a little too big for her, Kathy could almost pretend that the weekend hadn't happened at all. Except that she kept looking at the champagne resting in the bucket of ice and just kinda not feeling it.

[For either/both of the guys she'd be there with! nfb for distance.]

To tell the truth and shame the devil--a saying Kathy's mom had adored when she was alive--when Dante had suggested that they go out for Korean food, Kathy hadn't expected much. Dante didn't speak the language, didn't know the culture, and his only real introduction to the cuisine was what Kathy cooked at home and the hundred of weird bottle and jars of seasoning she kept in the door of the fridge, next to the more normal bottles of mayo and ketchup and relish. It wasn't that she was expecting it to be bad or anything, but she'd figured something middle-of-the-road, declaring its authenticity by blaring k-pop from the mid-2000s with two kinds of kimchi at most and a couple of sushi offerings to round out the 'Asianness' of the menu. All of which would have been perfectly fine and Kathy would have gone home, full and happy, and not given it another thought.

She realized she was wrong the moment they stepped into the restaurant. It smelled like home, evoking a sense of nostalgia and homesickness so sharp she rocked backwards on her heels for a moment. The table next to them had seven different banchan bowls on one side of it and over the shoulder of another patron, she could spot a menu page devoted entirely to different kinds of kimchi, several of which had seasonal warnings next to them. Apparently this place thought it wouldn't do to serve Yeolmu-kimchi in the middle of winter and you know what? They were goddamn right.

Kathy reached for Dante's hand, squeezing it tightly, letting her grip speak louder than she could right then about how pleased she was with his choice of restaurant for the evening.

[Not for broadcast and for that guy she's with!]

Kathy sat on the hard police bench, right outside the holding cell, an ice pack against her cheek. The holding tank was surprisingly full for a Wednesday night; not only were a bunch of guys from the warehouse there, but so were several drunks, two dealers, and a pickpocket. Once, she would have helped put the people in there--in fact, she recognized one of the dealers and was doing her best not to let him get a good look at her. Now, while she wasn't in the cell itself, it was only because the police didn't think it would be 'appropriate.' They thought she was still underage and Kathy wasn't about to tell them otherwise because right now, technically, she wasn't under arrest. She hadn't been handcuffed, they weren't processing her, and she wasn't even under guard--though there were several cops that occasionally checking over to make sure she was still there and sitting quietly. Nothing that happened tonight was going onto her permanent record--though she'd already gotten several paternalistic lectures on the way to the station and they weren't letting her leave until an 'adult' got here to collect her.

If she'd been thinking straight, she would have given them Raven's number and had her shift into a grumpy old Korean lady to come and fetch her. Then again, if she'd been thinking straight, she wouldn't be here now. Not that she'd been big on thinking straight since she'd been resurrected. Really, the way she'd been going, this outcome had practically been inevitable.

( This will all be fine )

[Preplayed with the utterly splendid vdistinctive. NFB, I have all the feels]

It had been another bad day. ( Cut for emo )

[For one and up early for SP]

Banzai rarely patrolled Sunday nights, taking the night off to rest and prepare for the upcoming week, but since she'd bailed on patrolling on Friday, it seemed only fair to make up for it tonight instead. Crime around the club and various campuses would be lower, but there were still plenty of drug deals, muggings, and various other, more dangerous crimes for her to stop instead. And it wasn't like Banzai was going to miss spending extra time manhandling drunk idiots into cabs and breaking up fights in alleys over stupid bullshit the participants couldn't even remember four steps away from the club itself.

The Ukranian mafia had all but vanished from the city over the past few months; apparently losing the Butcher was enough to convince them that Baltimore wasn't worth the effort. In a way, Banzai almost missed them; they were good practice for when she'd be going up against the Seventeens in LA eventually. Patrolling around Stanford (if she got in, please God let her get in) probably wasn't going to be all that much effort, so she was already making plans to portal down to LA proper at least once a month to get in a proper patrol.

Spotting Jewels, one of the working girls that was part of Banzai's loose confederation of informants, Banzai swung down from the rooftop to land on light feet nearby. Always good to check in, see if Jewels had heard of anything going down, make sure that no one was bothering her, pass along money and supplies to stay in Jewels' good graces, all that good stuff.

It felt good to get out and patrol. For all her speeches about wanting to do good for the people around her and make the world a better place, Banzai had to admit that the real reason she ran around in rainbows with a bokken on her back and rope darts in her belt was a lot more selfish. What could she say?

She loved this.

It had been several weeks since Banzai had patrolled Baltimore properly. She'd spent break at home in LA patrolling there (and had somehow come back to the island with stripper heels and contact information for Regenerator and she wasn't entirely sure how either of those things had happened but thankfully they weren't related). Then had come the accidental trip to Dante's world which had been traumatizing enough to keep her off the streets, followed by Homecoming, and then finishing off her college applications and SAT II studying. And, then, of course, she'd gotten a nasty cold from the weekend without power, which had kept her in bed and miserable for a few days and so, yeah, it had been almost a month since Banzai had made an appearance.

Time to see what she'd missed in over the last few weeks. A month was a long time to leave the Ukrainians alone. Long enough for them to get cocky and let down their guard if she were lucky. Long enough for them to get deeply entrenched if she were really unlucky.

At first, Banzai thought she'd gotten lucky. Her patrol was quiet. Real quiet. It took her several hours to realize that it was a little too quiet. At first, she assumed that it was simply November at work; street-level petty crime tended to dip once it started getting cold. But even so, it hadn't been cold enough to account for this many missing faces. Several well-known drug dealers had vanished and no one had stepped in to claim their locations. Looking around the club areas, she could only spot two of the regular pickpockets working the crowds, instead of the five or six she was used to. More disturbingly, a number of working girls were missing and even a few of the homeless folks she knew, both those that Banzai hired as lookouts and informants and those Kathy bought coffee and lunches for when she was in Baltimore without her mask.

So when she did finally spot someone she knew, she wasted no time in flipping her way down to the street to find out just what the hell was going on. Jewels was a pretty girl, only a few years older than Kathy herself, and had started working the streets just about the time that Kathy had come East to school. They'd met when Banzai had stopped a prospective john from giving Jewels anything worse than a black eye (she'd felt guilty about not being able to stop him from doing even that much). Banzai had stopped by a week later to hand over one of those sharp kitty-shaped keychains and after that, a decent working relationship had been born, with Banzai slipping Jewels a bit of cash from time to time and Jewels keeping an ear out for news that might interest the superhero.

( If Jewels had been one of the missing, Banzai would have FREAKED. )

[Open for calls or anyone out in Baltimore, but likely to be slow, as I have a vdistinctive! NFB for distance]

Kathy studied herself in the mirror, frowning slightly. She had done a lot of stuff as Banzai, but trying to infiltrate the mafia in disguise was a whole new level of scary. If she messed up, the Ukrainians would know a lot more about her than she really wanted them too--like what she looked like, as just one exciting example. But this was an opportunity she couldn't pass up; they were recruiting locals under the guise of a motorcycle drag race, with the top performers invited to a very exclusive party--so exclusive that no matter how hard she tried, Kathy couldn't get the location. Over the past year, she'd managed to create a decent circle of street-level informants and yet no one could tell her anything besides what was 'public' knowledge: an illegal drag race, with plenty of money to be made from betting, and an excellent afterparty for the winners. That was it.

It was all very frustrating as hell.

Even the race itself was frustrating. If it had at least been a drag race with cars, Kathy might have been able to put her Driver's Ed experience into play...somehow. She was still lacking a car, but she would have at least known how to race. Ish. Maybe. But this was a motorcycle race, and Kathy had one hour of experience driving one of those from several years ago. That would get her exactly nowhere. If she had more time, she might even have been able to appeal to Parker or Eliot for help, but she'd just gotten the message that everything was going down tonight.

Kathy didn't often swear, but this whole situation deserved quite a hearty "God dammit!"

Her current plan was to dress like a biker bunny, head to where the race was going to take place, and hope to insinuate herself in the group that got brought to the party. Yeah, she could foresee no problems with that, sure.

( At least she looked the part? Hopefully? )

[Primarily for one, but open to the roomie beforehand if she so chooses. Everything that happens after they leave the island is NFB for distance.]

So, most people probably did not have a twenty-item, bullet-pointed list for ways to relax and/or enjoy themselves during the last week of break before the beginning of their senior year (definitely and/or; parties were fun but stressful), but relaxing had never been something that Kathy was all that great at anyway. And her normal method of relaxing was typically nerdy and kind of introverted methods anyway: reading comics, playing video games, practicing a routine. Stuff she enjoyed, yeah, but also things that she'd spent her entire life doing. Her current list was all about trying new things, rather than defaulting to the same activities she'd been doing for years.

Which was why she was at a club (number 8 on the list) tonight. Sure, it was a Wednesday, which wasn't exactly peak club hours, but fewer people in the club meant fewer people to get flustered by, especially if she decided to also cross off number 14 on the list, dance to make someone's jaw drop. And if she managed to humiliate herself trying for number 14, fewer people meant fewer people laughing and fewer people in her way as she bolted for the door.

Right, awesome, great pep talk.

Ignoring the small voice that was trying to convince her to trade her dress for her gi, Kathy drew on some of the confidence she had has Banzai and entered the club. It was just people. Just dancing. It wasn't a gymnastics meet with hundreds of spectators or even a nasty fight in a back alley against a guy with a knife. It was supposed to be fun. And, if it wasn't, she could always go home and play video games until dawn.

She could do this.

[For one please]

The night was both hot and muggy; Banzai wasn't sure whether that would mean it was too hot for people to get into much trouble, or if it was going to be one of those nights when it was so uncomfortable that it just spurred people to act like assholes. The middle of the week usually skewed towards it being too much effort, but Banzai was always a little wary. Especially tonight, when she had someone with her. Anders could take care of himself, she knew that, but she couldn't help but worry a bit anyway. It wasn't like he wandered around fighting bad guys often. Yet.

She was hoping that they could get some parkouring in, maybe take down a mugger or two or stop a drug deal or something, and he could have a fun night that took his mind off his relationship woes. She was certain that he and Nathan would be okay in a few days, it just took some time and patience.

Not that Anders was all that great at patience.

"So, I mostly patrol from the rooftops because you get the best view of what's going on," Banzai explained, gesturing out towards the city below them. "And I can usually get wherever I'm going in a hurry, unlike if I were at street level. But we can head down to the ground if you think it would be easier that way?"

[For one please! Who was modded with permission]

Banzai leapt over the edge of the building, pausing for a moment on one hand to let her quarry move into position, and then shifted her weight a fraction of an inch to let gravity take over. Freefall. A moment when she was almost flying, albeit in one direction. Hurtling four stories to the ground and loving every minute of it. She makes a noise only at the very last moment, turning her quarry's face up to hers. His expression is comical in its disbelief, which turns to pain a second later as she lands handsdown on his shoulders. If she really wanted to, she could probably dislocate his arms or maybe even break his collarbone. But that wasn't Banzai. She didn't like hurting people, not even scumbag drug dealers that liked to hit working girls.

The hitting women part really had her tempted, though. Just a little more pressure than usual and snap, crackle, pop. No more hitting people for him!

But she'd been Social Justice Warrior, not Social Vengeance Warrior, so she refrained. She hit him with just enough force to numb both his arms, forcing him to drop his briefcase with a gasp. From there, she flipped behind him, dropped low, and lashed out with her foot. He hit the ground with a cry and she kicked herself up into a standing position and dover for the briefcase, knocking it away from his grip.

That's when his three bodyguards decided to wise up and get involved.

They had guns, of course. Jerks like these always had guns. Fortunately, Kathy wasn't where they thought she'd be. She'd taken off just as soon as the briefcase had gone skittering into the shadows.

Spin kick. Hand spring. Cartwheel, backbend, roundhouse. Down went one of them. Hammer kick, vault, flying leap, gymnastic ribbons around his wrist and yank. Down went the second. Layout salto. Spin kick. Forward lunge. Spin kick.

And down went the third.

"Looks like it's just the two of us now," Banzai said, grinning at the dealer. "Do you wanna give up? Or let a little girl kick your ass, too?"

He whimpered and put his hands above his head.

Under her mask, Banzai grinned. God, she loved this.

[NFB. For anyone out in Baltimore, though thread with gunslingerpose comes last chronologically, please!]