973/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	16 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lady Blackhawk, 319, Ares, Grace Choi, Little Blackhawk

---

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    It was a brief phone call given to him, just a few words from the larger than life Zinda Blake. A request to meet at The Godsend, a particular bar in Manhattan that had a reputation as a hard place, and was at times difficult when the crowd grew rowdy. for some people that was a benefit, and considering the last time she had asked him to a bar the likelihood of a brawl or two seemed eye.
    But first thing was first. Another phone call had to be made. Just a brief one. The man known as John Aaron held the phone to his ear.
    "Alexander?"
    "How is the camp of summer?"
    "Hm."
    "Hm."
    "You know you are to obey the counselors."
    "I do not care that they play little kid games. I care that you socialize with children your age."
    "No."
    "Yes."
    "No you may not come home."
    "Good soldier."
    The phone was hung up and he checked his watch again, frowning a moment. John then proceeded to gather his keys off the kitchen counter, then headed out the door. It didn't take long to get back into the city, to pull up into the parking lot and pay the attendant so none of the homeless would vandalize his black SUV. He saw the bar and stepped to the bouncer first.
    A quick nod was given, and then he was past. Into the depths of the Godsend and starting to wend his way through the crowd. He was tall, but in this mass of humanity and otherwise, he was not the tallest being they had seen by a long shot. At times people would spare him a glance, little more, as his clothes were rather pedestrian for the area. He was not out on the hunt, that much was certain. This was perhaps mostly business.

Ares has posed:
    It was a brief phone call given to him, just a few words from the larger than life Zinda Blake. A request to meet at The Godsend, a particular bar in Manhattan that had a reputation as a hard place, and was at times difficult when the crowd grew rowdy. for some people that was a benefit, and considering the last time she had asked him to a bar the likelihood of a brawl or two seemed eye.
    But first thing was first. Another phone call had to be made. Just a brief one. The man known as John Aaron held the phone to his ear.
    "Alexander?"
    "How is the camp of summer?"
    "Hm."
    "Hm."
    "You know you are to obey the counselors."
    "I do not care that they play little kid games. I care that you socialize with children your age."
    "No."
    "Yes."
    "No you may not come home."
    "Good soldier."
    The phone was hung up and he checked his watch again, frowning a moment. John then proceeded to gather his keys off the kitchen counter, then headed out the door. It didn't take long to get back into the city, to pull up into the parking lot and pay the attendant so none of the homeless would vandalize his black SUV. He saw the bar and stepped to the bouncer first.
    A quick nod was given, and then he was past. Into the depths of the Godsend and starting to wend his way through the crowd. He was tall, but in this mass of humanity and otherwise, he was not the tallest being they had seen by a long shot. At times people would spare him a glance, little more, as his clothes were rather pedestrian for the area. He was not out on the hunt, that much was certain. This was perhaps mostly business.

Grace Choi has posed:
    In the crowd, is - well, a very, very tall woman. She's sitting down, but one can tell by the length of her arms that the strange asian-looking woman with the shock of naturally - not dyed - red hair is pretty large in stature. There are several spent glasses at her table, of which she is sitting alone.
    At least, she was sitting alone. And she was enjoying her drinks alone, too. At least, until three men approach her, two wearing what might be described as exercise outfits though they're also functional for social functions.
    "We heard," says the third guy, the leader, a man in a black suit, white tie, and a fedora hat, "That you said you think you can beat any man in this bar, and so none of them are worth your time. That true?"
    Grace doesn't even look towards the talking man, "That's what I told the waitress when she asked me if I wanted to sit with anyone else," she confirms, dryly.
    The two 'henchmen' start to move up, and take a chair on either side of Grace, who remains looking non-pulssed. She finishes off her current mug of dark ale. "You're pissing me off," Grace warns them.
    "Tell you what," the leader sneers, "No need to get rough. This is a -reputable- establishment," he continues, feeling the need to accuntuate the word with a litle knowing false smile. "You lose to Gerald here, and, you come over, and be my escort for the rest of the night, then, if you're so confident."
    Grace finally turns, to look at the man. "And if I win, you give me $100, and shut the fuck up."
    "Deal." A nod, to Gerald.
    And as the two begin to arm wrestle, Grace's arm doesn't move, an inch, no matter how hard Gerald strains, turning purple in the face to do so.
    When Grace /does/ move, she slams Gerald's hand down so hard, and he screams so loud to turn heads, his wrist is probably broken. Grace turns back to her drink. "Leave the $100 bill. And get the fuck out of my face."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "What is, wai-...Hey bartender what the @!^&? I asked for an old fashioned, you can't put a single malt in an Old fashioned."That'd be Zinda, bending a bar tender's ear over there. A professional drinker with a fighter pilot problem. "No no, you need to use a Bourbon..no..no that one with the red la- yeah that!"Not that she wastes that terrible cocktail, god no. It's not the Malt's fault, it never asked for this. So of course she belts it down like tap water, before snagging her new cocktail for an appraising sniff.
    Short neat black pleated skirt, bright red "Cardinals" T-shirt and an ancient M-65 with the Blackhawk logo stitched on the sleeve. She's hardly subtle then, but this is Zinda and so it's safe to say subtle isn't really in her vocabulary. She's just slapping down a bill on the bar when something catches her ear, leaned back to give a look across the joint towards Grace. Glass lifted as she cups an off hand to her lips to shout. "Woooo! Kick'em in the balls!"

    Yeah, there is probably going to be a fight here.

Ares has posed:
    Yes, the place definitely deserved its rep. John Aaron walks through the place, moving through the crowd slowly. He walks past three rather pissed off men near Grace's table as he starts to hear the terribly lovely voice of one Ms. Zinda Blake. It's probably around that time when she'll catch sight of the man as he slips into her line of sight between her and Grace, just for a moment as he steps to the side and nods to the bartender. Taking up a seat besides the pilot, the tall man leans against the bar and asks, "I see you started without me,"
    "Scotch on the rocks," Given to the bartender as the man settles back against the bar top, watching now the terribly interesting Grace Choi. Then his gaze flicks to those three terribly displeased men near to her and makes a small 'huh' sound.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Bitch," says the man in the suit. He does not seem to be a man of his word. He is not laying down the promised bill. Instead, he's pulling out a small caliber handgun from his inside pocket, "You're not getting away with this."
    And as Gerarld continues to clutch his right hand, the other guy moves to send his fist into Grace's jaw. It does connect. Solidly. It rocks her jaw and moves her head sideways.
    "My turn," she says. And, with one hand she slams a fist into the second guy's gut, doubling him over nearly instantly while with her other hand she reaches back, and before the guy in the suit can re-aim to the new position of Grace's head and she suddenly stands upwards, sharply.
    The top of her head slams into the lower jawline of the man, and as he begins to sprawl backwards she whirls, grabs his arm with the gun, and slams him face-first into the table. There is a crack, this time of an arm breaking. And then Grace, calmly, is rifling through the pockets.
    As people look on, she does not seem concerned. She finds what she was looking for. A wallet. She pulls out one $100 bill, leaving everything else in there.
    "Thanks."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Awww Johnny, don't feel left out. I can't exactly start early if I never stopped, hmm?" Zinda offers a sly grin at her own, terrible joke. Sipping after this, barely acceptable cocktail. "Training a new Blackhawk is rough stuff, it's all crazy stressful. Teaching was always Hans's Gig, I end up terrified I'm going to forget to tell her to put the gear down or something." She offers a shrug finally, finally accepting that she's just not going to get a decent cocktail down here.
    "Hey anyway, that broad looks like fun. I think you and Me, we're nice lovely people. Lets you and me saunter yonder, and make friends?"Zinda eases back, slapping a fifty down before pointing to a bottle of wild turkey. "Hey, yeah just give me three glasses and @*!^ off."Which is how to address a bad bar tender of course, especially when you don't plan on letting him have the honor of mixing your drinks.

Ares has posed:
    A low chuckle slips from the man as he remains there with his back to the bar, eyes slid over sidelong to consider Zinda. "Expanding the business? That's good to hear." He gets his drink and offers a nod to the tender, as well as a folded up bill that's tossed in the glass that's set aside for his chek. He turns back towards Zinda and then says in that low rumbling baritone of his, "You'll do fine. She might come out of the Zinda Blake Air Academy with a little bit of a chip on her shoulder, but that's to be expected."
    But then his attention is drawn across the way towards Grace and he smiles a bit, brow furrowing. "You sure she'll be amenable." Yet even as he voices this concern he's already gathering up his glass and pushing away from the bar, getting set to follow after Zinda. "She seems to enjoy her privacy."
    But he is good enough to lightly kick a chair out of the way of his projected path of Zinda approach towards Grace, less things for her to trip on.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Meanwhile, Grace stuffs the wallet back into the guy in the suit, with the broken arm. Even as he reaches for the gun, she grabs it away from him. "Bad," she tells him, cracking the gun butt down on his fingers splayed over the table. He yells again in pain. "Now. Take your goons. And fuck off. Like I told you. Before I introduce you to your spleen."
    She towers over them, over everyone, really. Grace is a very tall, very large woman.
    She watches them slowly shuffle away, with the look on their faces that both Zinda and her partner would know too well. The faces of those who are definitely going to seek revenge, and are full of hate - but know they are utterly, and completely beaten at the moment.
    Grace flops back into her chair, looking up at the pair.
    "What? You two want a go too?" She eyes Zinda, with unmasked appreciation, then to the man with the same look. "Or, you here to buy me free drinks?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    And a laugh, which is more booze than actual humor. "Oi! Darlin I'm too liqoured up to be mean, and I ain't drunk enough to be rowdy."and well she nudges Ares, as if he'd let her walk over there solo anyway. "I'm Zinda Blake, this is John Aaron."and a pause as she sets those glasses down, glancing up after Grace. "and no we ain't a thing, you can hit on him if ya want I s'pose. Anyway He's a soldier, I'm a mercenary and you're some kind of ass kicking amazon whatever. So I reckon, we ought not to be strangers yeah?"
    She does neatly kick a chair upright as she pours, without missing a beat nor a drop. Slumping down and sliding a glass over towards Grace and another towards wherever Ares fancies a seat. Cigarette case and lighter plopped down on the table, she proceeds to recline like she owns the joint. "So what do I call you honey?"

Ares has posed:
    "The drinks are on her." The incognito Olympian says at first, then offers a nod. "A pleasure to meet you, you are a magnificent woman." This much is said from the large man that towers beside Zinda, though it's delivered with a certain level tone, as if he were commenting on the weather, or just had had a decent breakfast and was asked about it by a co-worker. He then sets his own drink down, quirking an eyebrow at the table's first occupant, a silent request for permission despite Zinda's manner.
    "I work in construction." He corrects Zinda a bit, but it's not too terribly important. He does, however, accept the extra drink from her.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Sure, pull up a chair. Especially if you're buying," Grace allows, in friendly fashion. It seems she's not so opposed to being alone as Zinda may have thought. "And, what if I want to hit on you, instead?" She asks Zinda. "Though," she admits, "He's pretty handsome, too." She pauses, adds, "My name's Grace."
    She flags a waitress down, and orders herself another dark ale. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Well Grace, I'm a life taker and a heart breaker. Too much work for me to start playing games, right now anyway."Zinda downs that pop of whiskey like so much water, and it's on to another pouring the thing ever so carefully. Thats what four drinks in how many minutes? "Ain't no plan or nothin, just three folks drinkin in a hole in the wall." And well she tops up Ares because he's in reach, regardless of if he's finished her first pour or not.
    "See I had a whole lotta drinks, in a whole lotta bars all over god's infernal creation. You gonna share a drink, it's best to do it with somone who shares your profession."Casually popping open that cigarette case, before getting a smoke lit. "I know Aaron here says he works construction, but he's just between wars I think. Once a warrior always a warrior, can't put that genie back in the bottle. Anyway, it's the secret of my success when it comes to barfights. Be friends with the right people, and then play as dirty as you can."

Ares has posed:
    Something of a sardonic look touches the man's features as he settles into his chair and looks across the way towards Grace, though when he lifts his voice to her he says simply, "Thank you for your kind words," He offers even as he lifts the glass that Zinda had slid before him.
    But then he turns his head to listen to Zinda speak on what is best in life and as she goes on he gives a small amused smile. He may seem a bit distant, but there's real affection there for the smaller woman beside him. When she mentions him he looks across towards Grace and gives a small shrug as if accepting the words if not entirely agreeing with them.
    Once Grace has her new beer, and once Zinda's at a good stopping place he'll raise the glass aloft and say, "Bide Zinda. To new friends,"
    There's a pause as he looks between them then aims to make what clinks he can, before he'll add, "Skol." The drink is downed, then set down with another glassy clink.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace now has five empty ale mugs near her and she doesn't even seem buzzed yet. Still, she has to grin, almost rougishly, towards Zinda. "Usually, that's a good strategy. Just don't try it in Chaney's in Metropolis. I'd have to have to throw you out."
    She then looks over towards the man. "To new friends." She lifts mug number 6 as it's delivered, "Never been in a war, myself. Plenty of fights, though." As one can guess. There aren't any scars on her, however. She sips at her ale, lowers the mug and then frowns, looking at her gloves. She grabs a napkin, and wipes someone's blood off the top of her gauntlet.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Gutar!"And yeah, of course Zinda would know how to toast in Swedish. She even had a Swede in the Squadron back in the day, right? Never the less, Zinda hoists a glass and downs hers in a single pull. "Hmmmf, never been in war man kids these days, Grace sweetheart you don't know what you're missing."and a pause as she pours herself yet another, she's kind of leveled off there it seems. Then again if Zinda has any super powers, it's her tolerance for drink clearly. "Best job I ever had, no kidding. Wouldn't tra- wait Metropolis eh, hah another Metro girl. I'm still waiting for Superman to show up at one of mine, man that'd be a riot. Guy's such a straight arrow I ain't too sure he can -find- a bar, but thats another line entirely I think."

Ares has posed:
    It probably becomes clear to Grace in little time the nature of the relationship between the two. Ares is there to not really chaperone, but perhaps in some ways play the big brother to the woman beside him. He just leans to the side a bit and lets her build up her head of steam as she regales Grace about Metropolis now and about War. For really there is no stopping Zinda Blake, at the best she can perhaps be guided a little, like a flood smashing against piles of sand bags.
    "I've never met the fellow. Seems a decent sort." He comments even as he leans forwards to refill his own glass. One thing is clear, he can definitely handle his liquor a lil better than Zinda, but then again... she did get one heck of a head start.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Never met him either. Sure, he's a good guy and all, but, he, and his family, ain't the be-all-end-all," she says, mildly. She appears unimpressed with Superman, even if she might respect what the hero has done. She advises Zinda, "Well, we're not in any wars. And, I get paid more at Chaney's to bounce than any grunts get paid. No reason to leave." Money, the great motivator. Or, one of them at the very least.
    "Yeah. You could say that. Wound up there, after a bit." Grace does not go into further detail.
    She considers Ares, now though, suggesting to him. "So, let me guess. She blows everything up, and you come in, and build on the battleground?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Honey they build banks cuz of the scratch they pay the likes of me, You should see what folks'll pay to get a real living legend."Which is, perhaps more than an idle boast. "Dude's a tee-totaler, and some kind of space alien or whatever?"Zinda sticks out her tongue at that, falling back on her booze and offering Grace that cigarette case if she fancies to light one up?
    "Naw naw, he fixed a wall I got thrown through. Then yaknow, war was discussed and we went drinking and now we're buddies."She elbows John with a smirk, before tucking back into her drink. "He couldn't build fast enough to keep up with the kind of destruction I'll throw down, hell they couldnt dig graves fast enough in North Africa and I was flying a stolen bird back then."

Ares has posed:
    The glass in his hand is swirled a little bit and at Grace's question he gives a smile to her, gesturing with his drink as he says simply, "Something like that." But then he leans forwards and says lightly. "I was a grunt for a time, Zinda would be the sort to fly high above and take out people hassling me if I needed her to." He glances sidelong at her and adds, "Lately though I just try to make sure nobody blindsides her during the inevitable brawl during the evening."
    But then his attention shifts fully to Grace as he considers her, "But she is right about you in some ways," A glance is given to Zinda as if seeking her to back him up somewhat, "You may not have fought in a war, but there are elements of the warrior to you." For a moment he turns his head to the side slightly, as if something about her didn't sit quite right, but then he shakes his head and lets it pass, whatever it is.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "When you grow up on the streets," Grace says, calmly, "You either submit to the streets, you find someone to protect you by joining a gang, or a drug operation, prostitution, whatever. Or. You learn how to stand up for yourself." She cracks her knuckles, "I chose the latter." And there's something about her that suggests size and stature weren't the sole determining factors in that.
    "And if I can kick a few asses along the way? All the better for it." She looks back towards Ares, though. "Though, wouldn't call myself a warrior. Bitch, maybe. Been calle worse." She grins, unapologetically, and nods to Zinda. "I've heard of you."
    There is some respect there, but there's no fangirling. Grace doesn't, it seems, fangirl. And, there aren't the annoying questions either about 'what was it like when ...' and, 'how many planes have you shot down ...' or, 'how many wars have you been in?' types of questions.
    All she says is, "Keep kickin' ass."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Yeah, I ain't exactly undercover."Zinda gives a little shrug at that, sipping after her drink. "Everyone and their brother started throwing my real name out there after everyone thought I was dead, I was lucky I'd killed all my enemies yaknow? Would've been real easy for some jerk with a beef to have found my parents or something, no consideration I tell ya."Zinda seems to be stabilizing in her buzz at least, which is probably a good sign maybe?
    "Anyway, I'm always a sucker for a fan who makes a good request honey. Just as soon as I scrape some green together, and get the squadron back into shape. Back in the day folks would give me planes just because I'm yaknow, the best god damned fighter pilot who ever lived."So modest, isn't she? "Nowadays you got no idea how expensive everything got, and then there's itar and the UN's prohibition on Mercenaries because thank you China? Hell at this point I'd pay to get another proper war, everyone's gone all soft."

Ares has posed:
    "Not every battlefield must be declared so by some old man in power." John looks to the side, eyes sliding to one of the men who had been so summarily dismissed by Grace's rather stern rebuke of their attention. His eyes narrow slightly, but he makes no effort to warn either those at the table or the men eyeing them. Instead he simply looks back, "Whatever passed you seem to have done well."
    At that he settles back into his chair and listens to Zinda rail about the state of the world. His smile returns and he tells her sidelong, "Be careful what you wish for."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "History," suggests Grace, "Has forgotten in large quantities the number of wars started by women," she opines to Ares. This isn't with pride, or with any feminine empowerment message behind it. But, it's something she knows is quite true. Still, she raises her mug to him, nodding, "What he said," she agrees to Zinda.
    "Even if I could fly, doubt they'd have a cockpit I could fit into. I'll take my fists, and someone else's face any day of the week over that. Don't care much for guns, either. Unreliable. And, not nearly as theraputic."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    And a hiccup, as her drinks finally seem to have actually caught up with Zinda. She inhales deeply, making no attempt to hide the sudden flush. Wow, ok it just sort of came up and bit here there. "John we got another war coming, lemmie tell ya."And a slow pull on that cigarette, before she holds it for a moment. "So back in fourty five right, I shit you not one day before the war ends. I'm out at angels six looking for mines, and I spot these two meatballs down noodling around three-five right? Well I turn, because I'm a fighter pilot. Thats what you do, and so I get in there right? Well we all know, I didnt finish the war right? So theres no bright lights, no crazy colors or something."
    And a pause mid story, to slowly light up her next cigarette. "It just stopped, all of it. Everything, like it froze. I could see my twenty mils had ripped this poor guy in half at the shoulder, saw pieces of him hung in mid air. I can smell the gunpowder, But it's all quiet now. I'm sitting there, can't move or nothing right? I get this feeling, that I ain't alone there. Now no words, nothing like that jazz. I just get this notion, like a bolt of lightning. Like it's words spoke directly to my soul, you follow?"And yeah maybe she's had too much to drink. "It's telling me I ain't done, that I ain't made for whats to follow. That it'll kill me. That I'm gonna just step out for awhile, till it's time for a girl like me."and arms raised, before sneaking another pull of her bourbon. "Well here I am yaknow, but I ain't got no war yet."

Ares has posed:
    Grace's words conjure forth a series of memories for the tall man, his dark brown eyes shifting away as he considers them, considers the truth of her words. Some of those memories still sting for some reason, but he looks back and shakes his head. But he lifts his chin and asks simply, "Do you know those individuals who accosted you? They may be laying plans for when you depart." A simple warning, but then he falls silent as Zinda begins to speak.
    He listens to her, letting his smile grow a little as she starts up her tale, but something in his regard for her looks pained, for truly he has seen noble souls in the past choose dark paths when deprived of battle, of the thrill of victory. "Zinda. If you heard words from some sort of monster, or freak, or spirit, or god. And there was something to them, which I think you can agree with you being alive in this time... then there's gotta be. Then you gotta know, the voice of a god often comes from a right bastard. And if he has a choice is he gonna make something easy for you? Or hard?"
    He lets that hang there, his manner shifting a touch away from that conserved aspect he'd been holding in check most of the night. Then he tells her simply, "Endure, woman. It's what you're good at. Along with shooting bastards down."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Those jackasses?" Grace turns her head, "They'll come after me. Not tonight. Few weeks. They'll have a few more people with them, by then. Six. Maybe ten," she tells John with the near-certainty of someone who has walked this road, and sailed this ocean before. "And then, when they do, I'll have to get mad. Last time, I wrapped the guy up like a burrito in the door of his cadillac." She shrugs.
    But then her attention, too, is on Zinda. And if she knew more of the stories of the Gods, than the Bana-Amazons, if he had finished her life there, she might be more suspicious of where John got his words. But she's not. Crazy shit is normal shit to a bouncer who works at a metahuman and mutant bar. She simply says, "Don't trust anybody talking to you that you can't fucking see," to Zinda. Still, the fighter pilot's words have Grace considering, thinking about, just what that all could have meant.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "John, my daddy may have raised me Pentecostal but I ain't never been one to believe. If there is any of that nonsense going on, then he's doing a piss poor of tending to his flock."And a hand flung off, well towards nowhere but she does almost smack somone. Yeah ok Zinda's getting into dangerous territory. "I seen them ovens, I flown over them graves stretching out so big I thought they was landing strips. I know it's all god awful and it's nasty and ugly, but I'll be damned all the same if I don't miss it."And a pause as she pours herself another, but this is getting probably into dangerous territory. "I feel like I got the ass end of a break up, yaknow?"
    Zinda does fiddle, but she's got booze and more smokes can wait. "You want me to just go shoot'em Grace honey, I mean lets be real. Ain't no thing really, and I like ya. So if they're gonna come with a beef, I reckon we'd best just slaughter the lot of them, bang'em down like rats under a sledge hammer."Colorful, right?

Ares has posed:
    Following Grace's eyes, he looks in the direction of the men. It's clear they're talking about them, and when Grace turns back they probably can't guess what it is that they're saying. But when she finishes speaking he gets a low chuckle and a smile as he looks away. From afar it most likely looks oh so terribly insulting, those bastards at the table are laughing at us, insulting.
    A hand slides out to grab the bottle and to refill his own glass. He'll refill Zinda's as well if she makes the suitable head nod, then quirks an eyebrow at Grace should she wish to partake of something other than her beer.
    But at Zinda's words he tells her simply, "Grace can handle herself, Zinda." He settles deeper into his chair, but has made it so his seat now is a bit further in the aisle so people will have to go around him... and in so doing be less close to the flailing of Zindafists.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "I try not to kill people," Grace says, holding up her hand to Zinda, but she doesn't bother to hide the rather savage smile on her features. She tips her head to Zinda, "I like you too, girl. You got the right attitude." Grace, afterall, can always appreciate a woman who speaks her mind and damn the torpedos.
    "I like to think so, at least," she reponds to John in response to his comment that she can handle herself. "Worked so far for me. So, two of you from around here? I just came up from Metropolis to check out a few bikes for sale."

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "John, darling I know very well that Grace can take care of herself. "and now the slow burn of her drunken mood, considerate to a fault until yaknow she's really not. Gaze shfting towards Grace with an easy grin that could melt steel beams. "Look I ain't sayin nothin bout what ya'll -can- do you know, but hell we're some kind of friends. Also I am slightly sloshed, and I don't like any of their faces."Which as far as Zinda is concerned should explain everything right. Heavens only knows what kind of heat she's even packing in that baggy jacket of hers. Guns, bombs, RPGs, grenades?
    "Eh I got a house out in Metro, but it ain't me sister. I got the island, but I mean ain't nobody touched the place in like fifty years. So had to do all this weeding, and repaving and mowing and then there was the cleaning."Zinda stops herself, producing a pair of brass knuckles, a brass compass and a flask in sequence before remembering her smokes are on the table. "Which is what I had dragged this lug out for, cuz he does fix the shit I break."and a slow pull of her cigarette. "Hmmf, I been thinking about getting a bike. Ain't had one since the war, and a little bike is handy on a big ass island yaknow? Been thinking about a little Honda, which is crazy to me. Cuz like few years back I was shootin guys named "honda" down."

Ares has posed:
    "This is more my town, than Zinda's I believe." He crosses his boot over his knee and seems comfortably settled for now. Another sip is taken from his drink and he sets it aside to focus on his two companions. He does, however, smile sidelong as Zinda takes him to task. He gives a small shrug as if accepting that she is correct, and that he might be a touch mistaken in his perception of what she was saying.
    Once she's done speaking he looks to Grace, "It's a lifetime job, I reckon." The whole fixing what she breaks.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace grins, shrugs her shoulders a little towards John, "It keeps life interesting," she proclaims, in good enough spirits. She swivels her head to look towards Zinda, then. "You are pretty sloshed. You need a ride home?"

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    "Naw honey, I got a taxi to the airport."She offers a dopey smile all the same. Yeah ok, drunk Zinda is gonna be flying -when- exactly? "Whats the name of your club though, if you don't mind the distraction I reckon I might be inclined to drop in on ya. What with us being neighbors and everything, you know?"Still she's not finished that bottle off yet, though good lord is she doing an admirable job of it. For how little she is, it's a feat alright! "Sides I gotta see if I can talk Johnny here into picking up more work, out on the island."And another hiccup.

    "Years back I think a lightning strike hit a bunker, and blew it all to hell. Well years go by, one thing leads to another and now I gotta get somone with a strong back to weld up all these supports and then I gotta run solar. It's a right mess, no joke."and a pause as she chains up another smoke. "Von Hammer never had to deal with this shit, you know they say he's still alive right?"

Ares has posed:
    That causes John's brow to furrow as Zinda turns back towards him, offering a job of all things. "You were serious about that?" He reaches for his drink again and draws it towards himself, sloshing the ice cubes in the bottom of it before tilting it back and crunching on them as he eyes the World War II pilot warily. He continues to chew a bit and then sets his glass back down. "I can probably manage something, or get a crew out there. But if you're gonna be flying like this lemme know so I don't go to all the trouble to get people lined up with your crashing into the ocean ass."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Well, I'll let you talk business. I need to head out anyways." Grace moves to stand, slowly, moving to her full height, and streching out further. She glances, briefly, towards the three men she subdued the year prior and makes sure they aren't going anywhere.
    "Nice meeting you both. Stop by Chanye's, sometime, if you're in Metropolis. Drinks will be on me," she promises.

Lady Blackhawk has posed:
    Zinda reaches out a fist, because thats what all the kids are into these days. Fist bumping, what a world. "I'll come bug you don't you worry, and you need anything you give me a hollar alright honey?"And well, she does produce a business card at least. Queen of hearts on one side, and the BH logo on the other above a simple Email address. Ain't modern technology grand?"Happy trails, until we meet again alright?"

    Zinda does take a pause to finally polish off her drink, before looking towards Ares. "Well c'mon lets go pick us a fight so I can sober up, so as to ferry you in a clandestine aircraft to my secret island full of all manner of regulated armaments. I'll even throw in a bag of peanuts or something, how's that for service right?"

Ares has posed:
    As Grace departs, John gains his feet and gives her a small salute with his glass. "It was good to meet you, Grace." He smiles a bit, and perhaps a little apologetically? As if he had accepted his role as being there to make sure Zinda doesn't do anything too too terrible.
    But then he turns back to her and says lightly, "Sure thing, Zinda. C'mon." He's there in case she needs a helping hand up, but really what good can that be in the bigger scheme of things?

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    The man known as John Aaron tagged along with Zinda as was his wont. He made sure she was at least passingly sober before she started to taxi the craft, and made sure he had most of his gear that he'd need to make a proper assay of the job she's got planned for him. But as soon as he got in the plane and as soon as it got going he was already getting ready to snooze most of the way. Not a good conversationalist at all on the flight over, but at least he didn't snore, so that was a plus.
    It was only when the airplane started to make its descent that he rather sleeeepily awoke, stifling a yawn with the top of a fist and stretching as much as he can in the confined space. No words are offered, since she most likely needs her focus to deal with the process of landing. But that doesn't stop him from gandering around from above, and once they're rolling from taking in the vehicles and the flags and the decor of that secret base.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
    <<Blachawk actual this is Blackhawk Control. You haven't actually laid in a flight plan with Central... Ah, it doesn't matter. Okay, Actual. Your way should be lit up and I'll see you when you park your bird. Control out.>> The girl who giggles vivaciously on the line is relatively young to judge by her sweet voice and the brilliant grin that is almost visible across the radio waves.
    The person who meets them in a hangar is about five feet one inch tall and dressed in a black Blackhawks uniform, complete with mid thigh length skirt and a slight heel. She's got wavy blonde tresses, long legs for her height, and a figure her outfit manages to display without flaunting. Actually, Elliot looks like a smaller, younger, more idealistic Zinda in some ways.
    "I got some coffee started for you and..." The girl blinks a couple times as John Aaron is emerging, looking around the landing bay briefly as if to be sure that none of the aircraft are hiding more people. Blue eyes do come to rest on Zinda, however.
    "I didn't know we had a guest... Um. Hi!" The girl goes to wave but then thinks better of it and snaps to attention.
    Really, it's adorable. Like someone playing G.I. Barbies.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    The man before her, he's tall. He towers over Zinda and yet stays a single step to the side and behind her. He turns his head away from its roving, pondering his surroundings to focus his attention fully upon Elliot as she moves up before them. For a moment his gaze narrows and it almost might be a terribly intimidating thing to have this haggard and grim man looking upon her. But then he lifts a hand and says simply, "It is good to meet you, Elliot." That voice a deep burly baritone.
    The he follows after Zinda as they begin to move and as she starts to set Elliot to task. "I probably will not be staying too long at first. But will return in a few days time once I get a crew together." He lifts a rough hand to the back of his neck, rubbing there for a time. He looks back and steps after the Blackhawk Hero.

Little Blackhawk has posed:
    Elliot takes Zinda's bag and then zips off to stow it. They may have some decided similarities in hair colour, build, eye colour, and choice of attire but the girl's effusive manner is utterly her own. It doesn't take long at all for the nimble young woman to stow the bags and then zip back to return to Zinda's side... Standing a step behind and to the side, like John Aaron himself.
    "Elliot Reed. It's a pleasure, Mr. Aaron," comes the laconic response form a girl whose body language suggests she can keep going for another horu or so if she doesn't restrain herself. Small hands are clasped behind the young woman's back as she walks.
    "Yep, by the time we get over there the coffee should be done," Elliot quietly confirms. "And then..." She shrugs her shoulders slowly and just smiles aboth.
    At any moment the girl will blast off for the sky under her own power.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    A grunt comes from him as he cocks his eyebrow first at her, and then the place in general, as if already trying to get a handle on the job. "I am not a miracle worker, Zinda. This would take quite a while with just one worker." His footsteps are quiet for such a large man, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket as he continues to look at each point of interest as they walk. "But we shall see what is truly required and go from there."
    That said he simply follows along with Zinda, letting her lead them where she will. "If nothing else it's a sea side vacation." Not that the swimming would be a good idea perhaps.