Bar Jokes

September 03, 2014: The Hawkeyes run into Vorpal and Changeling at a festive occasion: a bar brawl!

Queens - A bar

Where nobody knows your name, fortunately.


Belligerent police officers

Mood Music:
We Are Young

Second full day post Labor Day and the kids are back in school. The kids get off mass transit, their little backpacks on their backs, slung off the moment they get off the bus and dragged the ensuing few blocks to their homes. Most in the streets now are native New Yorkers, and as a result, there is little to no strolling being done. Everyone knows the deal and everyone is in the 'zone'.

Coming back from a 'venue', that is, Hawkeye had been asked to give a quick lesson to potential bow hunters in anticipation of the season beginning, and now, with stick bow in hand, and quiver on his belt, he too looks as if he knows exactly where he's going. Right over there where the cute waitresses are walking around the outdoor tables, serving drinks…


There is a chalkboard sandwich-board in front of the bar announcing, 'Congratulations 2014 PA Transit cops!' and within, perhaps the celebrating has begun?

The Bronx is only nineteen minutes away from Queens (thirty if you count traffic). This area is more familiar for Keith than he wants to admit- four years of tracing this same route at the buttcrack of dawn, only to come back late at night, occasionally stopping at one of the bars to make things a little easier.

Today, though, it's different. The last paycheck is happily burning a hole in his pocket as he steps off, looking back for a moment to make sure Gar's behind him before moving slightly to the side. He's forced to stroll rather than move at the purposeful gait that he's used to due to his injury. "Well… now that you've seen the warehouse, what do you think of the decor? I'm glad I don't have to go back there again…"

The place is familiar to the redhead, and he knows there's a bar nearby. "Feeling thirsty? The mall won't close for a few hours, and I wouldn't mind a sit-down."


"I think it's a perfectly charming sweatbox of stuff, and if I worked for that man, I'd have gone over to the dark side years ago," Gar answers. "Alcohol will probably wipe away the horrible memory. Something fruity and covered in umbrellas would be best, to counteract the overdose of macho."

He looks suspiciously at the sign outside the bar, but, whatever. Transit cops. Sic transit and all that.


Keith smirks. "Well, I don't have any umbrellas on me… but…"

He makes a point of taking a few quick steps (ow ow ow) just in case a swat was coming. The bar it is!


Getting closer, Barton catches a familiar sight of a waitress as she ducks into the bar, the door beginning to close behind her. He takes a wider step, two, three… perhaps passing the pair in his attempt to catch, "Denise! Hey…"

Pausing just inside the door, the blonde waitress turns around at the sound of her name spoken by someone who may be somewhat familiar to her. First, upon seeing him, she calls out, "Hey, Hawk" before a cloud descends upon her expression, and it's followed with a somewhat frostier, "Good to see you're in town." Bye.

At the third step, the darker-glassed door is closed, and the archer is forced to have to open it again, this time giving way to a few of the patrons that are escaping before 'show time'.



Gar catches the door as it starts to swing shut again after Hawkeye. He frowns to himself. That outfit looks familiar but … Oh. KATE! This is He-Hawkeye! Awesome. And he just got shot down by a waitress! Even better.

"Keef," he says as he holds the door for his gimpy buddy, "Look who that is."


Keith grins at Gar for his rather gentlemanly behavior and then blinks -"Hey, that's Kate's mentor, isn't he?"

Yep, it's not 'Oh wow it's Hawkeye!' it is 'It's Kate's mentor!' the same way kids go 'Hey, that's Andy's mother, isn't she?'

"Let's go in, maybe we'll get a chance to talk to him!" Keith goes in and holds the door for Gar, keeping his eyes on Hawk.


Once inside, Denise disappears behind the bar in order to pick up the other orders, leaving Barton to fend for himself, as it were. Up to the bar, and the blonde departs once again, leaving behind the bartender to take his order.

Setting the end of the bow onto his boot to rest, Barton puts his request in, 'Beer. Gotta be chewy, this is dinner.' before he turns around to the not quite whispering pair that enter behind him.

The place is loud, but the music still trumps, for the time being. And what he did hear? 'Kate' So, twisting around (slowly) he checks for said person, and doesn't see her. But sees a slightly green-tinted young man and a red-head. "Hey," is given as a greeting.


"Hey," Keith says, extending a hand, "Sorry to come up behind you like that… we're friends of Kate's— " scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeching halt for a second. How does he know Kate? How is he in the company of the Green Machine? Secret Identity?

"I'm Keith, Keith O'Neil." Ah, darnit.


"Gar Logan. Changeling, not Beast Boy. Kate's been telling us about how unprepared we are to be a team," the green guy adds. "My condolences on being shut out for the evening."

Gar also offers a hand, in case, but won't be the one to be offended if Hawkeye is just a little too weirded out.


Barton is still a little preoccupied with the fact that he's only gotten a couple words in with Denise before she's blowing him off. Okay, those 'couple of words' being 'Hey' and 'Denise'. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it. As a result, he only half-hears Keith's words, but the moment things do actually sink in, he extends his hand, "Katie's friend? Nice to meet you. Barton. Everyone calls me 'Hawkeye' though." Well, okay, and a few other things. 'Barton' is probably the most polite. 'Hawkguy' in his apartment complex. No one wants to know what the ex- calls him more often than not.

"I'm gonna grab the beer," and now Barton has to raise his voice with the raising of the noise of the bar, "and head outside to a table there."

The second hand thus offered is taken and a quick greeting. "Hawk."

Gesturing towards the outside in tacit invitation, Barton takes the beer that is set upon the table, drops some bills, and begins to head out, his glass raised high in order to keep it from spilling before he opens the door.

"Kate's been telling you you're unprepared? Well, she's good.. should probably listen to her. Unless you know things she doesn't, and then you should probably tell her. Then you'll get an earful."


"Honestly? I'm voting for her to be team leader. And she isn't even on the team. I've been trying to court her, though. We need at least one sane person there. Me? I'm a chaos-magic creation. Gar is… Gar. Flash is… Flash, and Raven isn't a people person, and Phobos is the god of fear, who is not exactly a good thing for morale overall." Keith grins and sits down slowly, extending his leg. His order was definitely something Gar could have predicted— Irish cream.


"What about the Zataras? Or Bunker?" Gar says. "None of whom I would expect to be a team-leader type, to be honest."

Gar's order is a Grasshopper. With a spare umbrella. He really needs to take the taste of that warehouse out of his mouth. How Keith worked with such a soul-destroying bunch of no-brows, it was like the land of the sportball-and-beer-oompa-loompas.


"She told me that she was talking to you guys." And told him he was too 'old' (impressive?) to talk to them. "No, she's not. She's got lots of opportunities. Told her she could come work with me, but I don't think she wants that either."

Hawk kicks a chair back and sets his bow behind him as he sits, now sipping what little foam is present off the top of the dark beer. Chewy, as requested. "Magic. Speed, I assume.." and once again, there's a twinge for his Kate. A normal in a sea of supers. Just like him. "She said there's an X-mixer too?" Brows rise at the term 'court', and he pauses before, "You'd be lucky to get her."


"You should eat something with protein in it," Gar says, eyeing the beer. That does look good, but the green guy has the strong feeling he'd enjoy it better if it were poured over a bucket of mash and stuck in a nosebag so he could eat it as a horse.

His ears twitch a bit as the interior seems to be getting drunkier and noisier.


"Yeah, we invited her to come along with us… The Zataras are magic, indeed… Bunker creates… something. Blocks. With his mind, they're pretty awesome."

Sipping his irish cream, Keith leans back on his chair. Amazing how the music keeps getting louder. Why on earth?

"I like her a lot, but you're right… someone as classy as her, she'll probably end up with the X-Team. Roberto Da Costa's got a lot of money, he's obviously put a lot of thought into his infrastructure… and the idea behind the team is brilliant. We, on the other hand, are a mixture of experienced veterans like Gar and Flash, and a majority of completely green newbies like myself without a clear charter as of yet. We're not exactly the sexiest of offers to someone with a lot of prospects."

Sip. "That party sure is getting… partyish."


"She's human. Nothing special but what she brings to the table in training." Just like him. "She sounds like she likes you guys, though." Barton chuckles and raises his glass; absolutely no light travels through the dark, viscous liquid.

Protein? "There are nuts inside if you want to grab a bask-"

Why yes, the party is getting underway in a remarkable fashion. The music rises, but now the noise from inside actually threatens to dwarf it. Shouts can be heard, indistinctly, but decidedly shouts.

"Great…" and a sip is taken. "I really don't want to be here when it gets bad." Partying cops?

"But, I'll let you in on a secret. Kate doesn't care about money. Ever."


"It sounds like there -are- nuts inside," Keith observes. "Maybe we should take a look inside, just in case?" A look to gar. "… maybe I should transform, to be safe?"

"Or maybe I should," Gar says, an extremely evil expression creeping up on his face. He drains the Grasshopper, shudders a bit, and then where he was, there is a normal, ordinary green and white Mephitis mephitis, the dark green fur on the body and the white stripes from nose to the end of the big bushy tail a visible cue to the troublemaking noisy animals of the world that the low-in-front high-in-back build is not simply because he's a drag racer, it's because that tail is a cannon filled with anti-riot weaponry.

"Want to take me inside, and see what's going on?"


'Transform'? Barton looks between the pair now, and looks confused. "Trans— what the hell?"

Clint rises from the table after getting a good look at… how did he introduce himself? "Jesus Christ," and he's not even religious. "No wonder Kate said you guys needed a leader…" is muttered soon after.

He's not about to leave his beer behind, however, and he takes one, two, three swallows before it's essentially drained. The noise in the bar gets louder, and suddenly cheers begin to erupt, followed closely by more yelling.

"Okay, guys… follow my lead, okay? Let's do this right. These guys are cops."


"Gar Logan, you're going to get yourself trampled- and then I won't have time to look for another date for the mixer." Keith smirks, and takes out a small handheld mirror. "We're All Mad Here!"

Purple flash, and suddenly— well, there is a Vorpal sitting on the chair. He stands up -with care, as his ankle is still injured- and scoops Skunk Logan up. "Yessir, Mister Hawk sir. Following your lead!" the Cheshire cat says. So a purple Cheshire with a green skunk under his arm walks into a bar…


Gar hisses, "Hey, not so tight, I can't move right and I might hit you instead," at Vorpal. He is perfectly happy to assess the situation, which is what he was planning on doing before he got grabbed. OK, so it would've been a "panic the masses' move, but what the heck?


Clint looks at the pair for a long moment before he pulls his longbow from the bow sock and strings it quickly and effortlessly.

Currently, the three are at a bar in Queens, sitting outside at a table. One Grasshopper, one Baileys and an empty dark black beer glass sits. The 'three', at this point consists of a -purple- cat, a green skunk-like thing… and a rather miffled archer that is trying not to think too much about the other two.

Within the bar, the Port Authority 'Graduating Class of 2014' Transit Police are celebrating quite raucously. Cheers erupt before shouts, and now, before the trio enter, the sound of chairs being thrown around and glasses breaking can be heard at street level.

"Right. Okay. Purple… Cat… Keith..? Can you get to the ceiling and not be seen? I need you to identify the ringleaders in there. Green… skunk. Gar, he said? Under and around to the bar. And stay put."


As soon as Clint orders, Vorpal puts Gar down. "It's Vorpal when I'm like this," he says amiably, and suddenly his body begins to disintegrate!

Or rather, it fades from view progressively until only his smile is left behind, and then that vanishes too.

It never gets old. His disembodied voice says "On it."

Here and there, purple glowing handholds appear. First in mid-air, and then up in the ceiling. They're small enough not to be noticed in the midst of all the chaos- but they're perfect for a certain acrobatic cat to make his way to the ceiling… and stay there.

Focusing, he looks down at all the chaos— ringleader, ringleader, make me a match…


Ceiling Cat is watching them. Green Floor Skunk is behind the bar, "Pardon me," to the bartender, "You guys should get out, I'll try not to mess up the bar too much."

Now strictly speaking, the team now called the Titans was never known for the sophistication of their plans, but with Robin as a tactical leader, they generally did quite well. This situation may show how well they still do, or at least, how well Gar still does.


It's possible that Kate has put an app on Clint's phone to let her track him. Or, you know. Something else, somewhere else. Hey, for all she knows, there's still a hit out on him. So it shouldn't be a huge surprise that she would show up at this bar, where Clint just happens to be having a drink. The noise of the bar fight brings her to a stop just inside the door, though, as she searches the area.

"So, uh. You need a hand?" she calls over when she catches sight of Clint, waving from the door.


Hey, it was a guess. Cats can climb. Imagine Barton's pleasure that … okay, Vorpal could!

"Right. Vorpal. Sorry."

Hawk stays close to the door, hugging the frame, seemingly watching everything at the same time. There are always only one or two catalysts in something like this- even within the police.

"Three groups," Hawk murmurs. "Jerks, followers, and those who really don't want to get involved but are dragged in."

It wouldn't surprise Clint in the -least- if Kate had put a tracking app on his phone. He doesn't know half of what he's got on there anyway, and isn't even quite sure how to delete message threads in his text program (thus her finding out about the potential date with Huntress maybe next week— aw, crap. Greenland. Will she believe 'out of town' again?).

Turning around, Barton catches the very familiar walk of one Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye. "What the— I think I met your friends. Purple and green. You were trying to protect them from -me-?"


There! There's one… two…. three.

Four. Four agitators, a good amount of followers, and several diverse creatures forming the multi-armed punchy monstrosity that is the crowd. A chair nearly hits Vorpal, and he has to pull himself up against the ceiling so he is flush with it. That's upper body strength, kids! Listen to yor gym instructors- you never know when you'll have to duck from a chair into the ceiling.

Yeah, that's what Keith would have replied, too, once upon a time. But do you see him laughing now? Do you?

Of course, now he realizes he's in a predicament- due to his ankle, he can't just leap to the ground as if he were hale. This is not a situation for him to show off his battle prowess— and he can't just land anvils on these guys. They are policemen. Policemen who are being fricking idiots, but it would just not do for the Titan's PR if he sent a whole graduating class to the hospital with diverse injuries.

So, instead of landing on the floor… he just had to land on something soft, right?

Becoming visible, he grins and lets go of the handholds as he swings in the air, aiming to land on the shoulders of one of the ring leaders and cover his eyes.



Gar realizes that he's chosen the wrong form. The right form would be something else. Something friendly, something with lots and lots and lots of hugs. He turns into a sugar glider and scuttles up the side of the bar and leaps! … and, ah, that's a ringleader. And that's the one he's fighting. Excellent! He lands between them and as they're starting to move, he's become a BIG octopus, and he's wrapping them for hugs. That … might not be the best choice if their friends or someone else tries to get them free by punching him in his big ol' octo-head.

"Aw come on guys, you're all good friends, let's hug and make up, OK?" Gar's banter is probably not going to help either.


"Who said protect?" Kate protests. "Just, you know. Give them some space." She grins as Vorpal drops down onto one of the brawlers, shrugging. "I figured they were a little more fancy-free than you might be entirely comfortable with."

Fancy free. Fancy colors. Whatever, same difference.

As one of the brawlers goes tumbling past her, she leans down to simply scoop his foot out from under him, sending him tumbling head-first into a wall with a minimal amount of effort. And that's one down. Putting two fingers between her lips, she lets out a piercing whistle. "Hey, Vorp! Can you hit the fire suppression?"


"You actually thought I was going to knock on their doors," and Clint unstrings his bow, "or follow 'em around? Really? C'mon, Kate.." With Vorpal's IDing of a ring-leader in his inimitable style, Hawkeye grabs a glass from a table and wings it across the room, giving it the perfect arc and spin to bean the guy right between the eyes. With Cat, Skun— no, Sugar Glider and heavy glass object, the guys goes down.

"Remember? This is me, encouraging you to do what you need to."

Guess the game of 'Guess who the ringleaders are' is finished now that Kate's here. For some reason, Hawkeye doesn't say a word about it.


"Bullseye!" Vorpal calls out as the glass conks the man he's on, bringing him down— and making one of the man's friends-of-the-moment miss a punch aimed at the grinning Cheshire. That's fine, because the purple humanoid cat leaps from the falling cop's shoulders and lands on the other man's, legs wrapped around his neck and one arm holding on to his hair while tilting back to avoid any punches. "Sure can, Hawkette!" I mean, he *has* to use the name Garfield gave her, because there are -two- Hawkeyes in the room, and how are they going to communicate with codenames and not get confused? See? It's properly justified! While he rides the cop in a style not unlike a mechanical bull, a Rabbit Hole appears in front of him and he puts his hand through it— his fingers emerging right by the fire alarm tab, which he pulls.

"You're all wet now, folks!" Vorpal says as he retracts his hand and the Rabbit Hole closes. Everybody should have a Rabbit Hole.

And then it rains indoors.


Gar is having a touch more trouble with his two. Their friends decide to punch him in the brain, and he almost loses them before he realizes he's the wrong kind of restraint.

In the wild jungles of Indonesia and Southeast Asia is a serpent known as the Burmese Python. They are the largest snake currently found on the planet. Gar decides to be one of those. His head is now armored and he reaches around to draw the new "friend" into the big hug, while the two ringleaders gasp and, each encircled, start to pass out.

"Hugs for EVERYONE who doesn't ssssettle down," Gar says, as the spray starts.


"Snakes," Kate says to Clint as Gar goes python. "Why did it have to be snakes?"

She takes a step back toward the shelter of the door as the sprinklers start to go off, grinning and holding the door open for anyone who'd like to take the fight outside. It's probably not the best solution to the problem, in terms of property damage, but on the other hand…well, fewer people are going to actually get hurt, right?


"Snakes—" Aw, "Beat me to it." Means she gets the fedora. Dammit.

The moment the water is turned on, things get a whole lot slippier in there. Beer is thrown, chicken wings, peanuts, and of course the heavy-bottomed glass was winged and struck true. (As if it wouldn't be?)

Kate's guess was right and there are some that actually begin to fall out, looking very much like a cartoonish ball of feet, fists, the occasional head and lots of swears.

"Don't ever call her Hawkette!" is called back into the fray, and Barton finds a police issue baton that had gotten thrown the ground and most likely forgotten. Flipping it into the air, he holds it out to Kate, grip first with a quirk of his head in offerance before he digs into his own pocket to come up with some coins.

"It's just Hawkeye." For the pair of them. Between the two, they know what's going on.

The coins are spun on his finger before he flicks it, and when it rolls, it actually catches the edge of a bottle that a cop was just about to pick up to smack over the head of another. Instead, the bottle tips and rolls away, offering only air where there had been a makeshift weapon.


"Stop hitting yourself!" Vorpal calls out, as he opens a Rabbit Hole in the path of an incoming punch to the face. HIS face. Fortunately the cop's hand emerges right next to his head through the other end of the Rabbit Hole, effectively clocking himself out. "Hey, Gar, how is it going over the—"

The man he is riding manages to get a hold of him and swings him, actually throwing him down on the floor. "Ack!"

Self defense instructor. Who knew?

While there is a good number of people trying to escape, there are still a few angry drunk ones who want to take their anger out on those running interference, and Vorpal right now fits that role pretty well. A few get to stomp on him the moment he falls, but the cat is quick and is soon rolling away from his aggressors, flipping upright in a rather acrobatic backflip—

And falling over on his side at the blazing pain, because he forgot about the ankle. "Mother—"


Oh, now the Changeling is getting annoyed. He punches another one in the head, with his FACE. Snake strike punch for reals! Fortunately the guy is drunk enough that it works and he goes down. But by now Gar's done with this stuff. Snake isn't enough? Well. Let's try something else snake-shaped.

Electric eel, Nature's Taser. He slips off the two unconscious ringleaders and gets close to the wet, still fighting ones, and, well. Zot. Zotzotzotzotzot. Zot. Dammit.


"See, Hawkeye? This is why we get along." Kate grins at Barton, taking the baton and reaching out to rap the wrist of a man reaching for another bottle. When he rears back, she snags the back of his collar with her free hand and directs him toward the door with the others. She isn't a big person, but she knows very well how to use momentum and pressure points to her advantage.

"Whoops. Be right back, gotta go grab the cat," she winks at her mentor, then, as Gar starts electrifying the place, she starts hopping from table to chair toward Vorpal. "Careful, you're going to get Vorpal!" she calls over to the green one.


Barton grins; of course they get along. And when the baton is taken from his hand and he's free to do else, the first order of business is that bottle. Now that it's out of play, he can keep an eye on the rest of the fray, making sure that he doesn't touch any of the electrified water. Mind, sneakers work well, but he's not about to take that chance.


At first, there's no response, but again, the sound of a muffled phone rises, *RIIIING*

Stepping to the doorway, Clint pulls the phone from a pocket, unfolds it, and brings it up. "Bart— Kate, to your right— ow…"

"Barton." He pauses, his attention divided, but not to the point of not having at least one back.

"Yeah… yeah. Really- yeah.. okay."

Dropping his phone back into his pocket, Hawkeye calls out in the fray, "Kate, boys in Research found something on the Emblem. I gotta go brief Cap. You good?"


"I'm ok, Kate," Vorpal says, rolling again. He's like friggin' Rollout, except purple. As he is getting up, he gets a kick to the face, so he dramatically flops against a table, breaking it.

"OK, that's IT!" he snarls, getting u- and punch!

The Cheshire cat is clearly not getting any points here, and that is embarrassing on several counts— Kate is watching. And Gar is watching.

Seriously. He can't constantly give the impression that he needs rescuing— How could someone like that be a viable relationship material?

Hush, Lois, I'm not talking to you.

"— no more mister nice kitty," Vorpal hisses, and breaks the seal inside himself- that little thing that he always knows is there, but which he has never actually tapped, saving it for a special occasion and all. He's eager to find out what it does!

The seal breaks, and the Chaos Wave explores all around him. It is not visible to human eyes- though those with a sensibility to magic would see it as a purple-white sphere that quickly expands from Vorpal, enveloping his immediate area in the bar. And those magical eyes would see every piece of furniture, even pieces of clothing, glowing with that same light. Fortunately for Kate and Gar, he stops the sphere before it gets to them—

Ever seen 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks?' Good, then you'll have an idea of what's going on here, as tables, chairs, glasses and just about everything that isn't nailed down begins to move. Some of them fly. They crash against the policemen, against the floor, the ceiling, you name it. A jacket and a pretty trenchcoat hold sleeves and skip out the door, the bar stools begin doing a can-can of kicks. Utter and complete pandemonium, and most of it is directed at the policemen.


Gar can only do so much taser before he runs out of juice, and he reverts to a more immediately useful shape. He's now… human. He's good at the duck and dodge thing, so he does that, occasionally putting a foot to the backside of one of the more obnoxious cops and shoving him toward the door. Not his fault if that sphere of chaos is in the way. Maybe they'll get Substitutiary Locomotioned in the face on their way through it.

"You guys doing OK?" he says to a group of four huddled under a table away from the spray of water. Thumbs up. Good. Those guys, likely to have jobs when this is all done.


"Thanks," Kate calls back to Barton as she jigs left, cracking the baton against the head of the man who was on her right. "And yeah, we've totally got this."

Famous last words.

She's halfway to Vorpal when the cat lets loose with the…magic. That's definitely some sort of magic. "Well, sure, that works too," she blinks, taking a break on a table just outside the circle of madness. "Plenty of safe spots outside!" she calls into the circle, in case anyone hasn't been chased off by the sprinklers and the crazy yet.


Vorpal stays where he is- sitting comfortably flanked by the two halves of the broken table, because his ankle hurts like it is trying to give birth… and the fact that tapping into whatever the hell that was has severely tired him.

He also is observing the effects of that wave with a look of 'Did I do that?' which might be a little too much on the comical side. Soon most of the brawlers are either down for the count or they're outside for Katie to deal with. As for the furniture? Well— every time it moves, an object charged with Chaos Magic releases a little of its charge. Soon enough, most of the objects have died down or are in the process of winding down. There's even a pair of dentures that are currently clackity-clacking on the floor. No, those are not the Joker's. One of the officers in the class obviously has some serious dental problems.

"… I think I went a little overboard."


"And, it seems like the drunken brawl's over," Gar says, as the sound of sirens outside is louder than the sound of the music and the lack of drunken brawling. The four ringleaders are still here inside. We'll see who thinks they got away when the disciplinary committee decides who gets to be summarily fired.

Gar helps the guys who were hiding from the brawl out from under tables. The water's stopped by now, if only because it ran out.


"Maybe a little," Kate allows with a grin for Vorpal, tipping her head toward the door. "You guys wanna hit the bricks, or you planning on waiting for the rest of the force to show up?" Now that electrocution is no longer a danger, she hops down from the table, guiding a few more people toward the doors. "Technically I think pulling the fire alarm's a crime."

Vorpal grins, "Hey, I have witnesses that will attest that I was nowhere near the wall when it went off." And that's true. His hand was, but the rest of his body was clear across the room.

He starts getting up, but then ends up taking a knee when the pain tells him that his ankle is not up for taking any weight on right now, thank you very much.

"It's cozy here," he says as a manner of excuse as he kneels on the wet floor with a grin. Ears twitch at the sirens, though.


Gar is a big ol' green gorilla again, picking Vorpal up off the floor. Thank goodness they all had to pay for the booze before they got to take it out to the sidewalk annex. Otherwise he'd have to add stealing to his list of infractions.

"Ready to go, Hawkeye?" he asks. "Vorp, can you rabbit-hole us outside to the other side of the street?"


Kate is just starting toward Vorpal to offer a hand when Gar takes that over, tapping her brow in salute to the green one. "Good when you guys are," she agrees, taking a look at the bar. "Pity. I saw Clint was here, I was sort of hoping I'd get a chance to catch him with his new girlfriend."


"If it's the waitress here… she sort of blew him off. Angrily." Vorpal says. Without waiting for anything, he opens a Rabbit Hole immediately below them- and one across the street. He's tilted it so they actually emerge from it and fall a foot down to the street below. Otherwise they would have emerged feet-first and ended up falling down again… and up again, and down again and… while that might be a ton of shits and giggles when used on criminals, that would not have been ok at all.

"Sorry about the ankle," he mutters.


"OK, this is good," Gar says. "Hey Kate, did you drive?"

He's remarkably cheerful for a semi-exhausted green gorilla standing on a sidewalk looking at a riot post-quell outside a mall. On the other hand, they need to fix Vorpal's ankle.

"Also do you happen to have an ace bandage on you?"


"You know, it's possible I'm one of the only people in New York who can answer yes to both of those questions," Kate says with a rueful smile, tilting her head toward a spot half a block away. The purple mustang is probably a giveaway, but then it isn't really meant for stealth. "But you run with Clint long enough, you start packing a few extra supplies."

It doesn't take too long to get to the car, which chirps as she hits a button on the key fob. "Tower still standing? Bandages are in the kit, under the passenger seat."


"This is embarrassing," Vorpal says quietly, "I usually don't go around falling all over myself. Just- it's not easy doing the vigilante stuff with an injury like this when most of the stuff you do involves hopping around." He clings to Gar and looks at the car. The color makes him grin, though. "I approve."

"Very awesome," Gar says, opening the back door with one foot, then sliding Vorpal inside and returning to human as he gets into the seat beside him, pulling the kit from under the seat. Huh. It has everything in it - a snap-COLD pack, awesome! Gar crackles the cold pack and lays it against the Vorpal Ankle.


The kit is practically paramedic-grade. One of the things you keep around when you're just a normal person playing the superhero game. Kate slides into the drivers seat, starting things up with a purr of the engine. "Nothing embarrassing about getting hurt, Vorp," she says, flashing a grin over her shoulder. "Happens to Clint all the time. What were you guys doing in there with him, anyhow?" she asks as she pulls out into the street. "He didn't call you, did he?"

"No — YARK!" Vorp jumps, tail frizzling at the contact with the cold pack. He doesn't like the cold. " — we were just coming back from claiming my last payche —"

Look of horror. He digs into his soaking-wet band jacket and pulls out a soggy mess of a folded-up paper, which is disintegrating. You can hear TAPS playing in the background. "… paycheck from my job and we were going to go to the mall so I could get something decent to wear to the mixer. And in my infinite wisdom I decided we could slow down and have a drink."


"We can totally take that back and get it replaced," Gar says. Because he had to do that once, though in his case the problem was that he was attacked by a villain. Didn't even have to go to the boss - just to the payments office. Admittedly it might take a few days. Gar takes the wet blob from Vorpal before he can mess it up further with flailing or wadding.

"Kate, could you put this on the dash so it can dry out a bit?" Changeling says, putting the cold on the other side of the ankle for a few minutes.


"I can also take a side trip by Bloomie's," Kate offers as she takes the check, laying it out on the dash while she drives. Hey, it's easier than driving and shooting while being shot at. Big time. "I need to go pick something up myself, anyhow. Unless your ankle's hurting too much?" Kick some butt, go shopping. That's the life.


Vorpal makes a few calculations in his mind. He had hoped to deposit his check and add to the amount there… okay, not a problem. He just had a smaller budget to work from. Much smaller.

"Bloomie's is fine," the Cheshire says with a grin, but behind his eyes the gears are turning. Bloomindgale's- dress shirt, anywhere from $92 to $200, and the cheapest slacks ran you at $90. Well, you could go cheaper, but they weren't nice.

"Yup, totally fine!"

He wonders if Roberto is going to make the mixer a pool party, maybe?


Gar doesn't say anything. Not a word, for the time he's dealing with the ankle anyway. He keeps the cold-pak in place until it's time to switch it away, and then begins wrapping with the Ace bandage. Hm. This one IS new, it still has those little hooky things and it isn't all weirdly stretched out. He tosses a medi-wipe to Vorpal.

"You got a bit of a thing there on your face, where Kung Fooie hit you."


Like Kate's letting anyone else pay.

She settles in the city traffic comfortably, taking her time while Gar sees to Keith's ankle. "So…you guys just sort of happened to be in the same bar as Clint," she says slowly, making a bit of a face. "For some reason, I'm not sure I believe he really just accidentally ran into you guys. On the other hand…Well, Clint." She glances over at Vorpal, smirking. "And if you ever call me Hawkette again, I'll kick you in the face like I did the last person to pull that shit."


Vorp catches the wipe and begins to wipe away the blood. He reaches out to gar and ruffles his hair, smiling a bit before saying. "Kate, I should probably tell you something. If you hang out with me… weird things will happen. I mean, aside from the stuff *I* make happen. Strange coincidences, strange misfortune, random crap all over. I was created by basically fudging with reality through Chaos Magic, and so I sort of… carry the wake of that chaos with me. So coincidences and things of that sort happen to me rather frequently."

He says this to Kate, but he is looking at Garfield when he says that, his hand still on his hair. He figured this was a good way of laying it bare: 'If this is too much, I'll understand,' sort of thing.

"That's why we ran into Clint. It's not predestination, it's just… I do weird things to reality, because I technically shouldn't exist."


Gar shrugs at that glance. Like this is anything new for the Changeling? He grins forward at Kate, because he already knows better but he just has to ask.

"So when you and Daddy Hawk are in the same fight and we need to tell the difference, we call him Daddy Hawkeye and you're just Hawkeye, right?" Gar is seriously going to get in trouble. He doesn't care though. "Or, Hawk 1 and Hawk 2."


"He is not my father," Kate says with a look in the rearview mirror at Gar. "We spend way more time together than that." She hits the brakes, steering around a traffic jam. "Which is why you can just use Hawkeye if we're in a fight. We know each other well enough to know who it's aimed at. And it's cool, Keith," she adds with a flicker of a smile. "We're in the superhero business. I mean, weird things are going to happen."


"I guess that's true." Vorpal chuckles, wiping the last of the blood, and then realizes that he needs to tell the truth.

"Actually… before we go to get your stuff could we drive somewhere… er, cheap? But not cheap enough that it looks cheap?"


"I can float you a loan until your paycheck is replaced, if you want to splurge," Gar says. He doesn't care about money because he has enough of it, but he knows how desperately important it becomes when you don't have it. So couch it in those terms.


"And again, I have to admit that this is a thing I can do," Kate chuckles in regards to finding somewhere moderately cheap. "You mean, like, hotel? Or restaurant?" Nope, right over her head. "Because I like you guys, but I don't think we're close enough to run through a moderately priced hotel just yet."


"…clothing store, I meant." Vorpal says, and looks at Gar. "… Gar, you know I can't accept that…"

It was one thing for Keith to accept a loan from, say, a family member or… well, a boyfriend. But at this stage, he just couldn't. Suppose he couldn't find a job in time and that loan just sat there, burning? He could end up souring things. " … but thank you for offering." He finishes with a smile, and leans over and hugs Gar's arm for a moment before straightening up. The neighborhood is familiar, and he does spot…

"Tell you what, why don't you guys drop me off here and come back in an hour after you do your thing at Bloomie's?" he Cheshire grins. He saw a little store down the block that might just be his salvation…


"You don't get to walk on that ankle," Gar says. "You make a brace for that before you put one foot on the ground, cat."

He looks forward at Kate. She might not 'get' this, but then again she might, she's got uncommon common sense for a rich girl.


There's a brief pause while that gets through to Kate, before she recovers. "Like I'm letting you go shopping for party clothes alone," she says with a smirk, though she does turn down the street. "Besides, this is a cool area. Best way to make sure you don't show up in something someone else is wearing. You know, like walking in and *bam*, two Hawkeyes. Super awkward for everyone."


"Pffft. I was going to go as Wonder Woman," Vorpal jokes, but he quickly conjures up a brace for the ankle at Gar's urging. "No, really— go ahead. Trust me… besides, I'd like this to be a surprise." He says mischievously. When the car stops, he wiggles out, putting his good foot down first. "I'll be fine. Trust me. You guys come back in an hour tops."


She's got it. Gar smiles to himself.

"I think I'll pay a brief visit to the little bird's room," Gar says, turning into a parrot and escaping out the window, "Be back soon!"

There. Now Vorpal can shop for surprise clothes, and Gar can find that place he was looking for where you can always find the thing you need if you look hard enough. What was it called, the Nowhere Market? Something like that.


"Keith, you can hardly walk," Kate snorts as she pulls into a spot, parking the car. "I'm coming with you. And you're showing me what's good, because I'm sure not showing up looking less than awesome." She tips her chin toward Gar as he goes bird-brained, smile flashing, before she locks the car behind herself.

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