Owner	Pose
Harper Row	Mixing BoP Business with pleasure never works out for Bluebird. Come in like a Civvie, and bring your gear. Maybe see the sights during the day, and slip into something skin-tight when the sun sets. Everything has gone topsy-turvy, and Harper was tipped off on her cross-country quarry enroute to Metropolis. So Bluebird is suited up in the daytime, having had to peel off the interstate, quick-change, and intercept the Easy-Lift transport truck before it gets into the city proper. She's out of range of any of her Peers, and in truth out of her unofficial juristiction so to speak. The city is on the horizon, growing larger and larger by the minute. In her visual display, the rectangular rear-end of the truck is locked in, and the motorcycle she's on is angrily trailing it, her trenchcoat flapping dramatically behind her. The back of the truck's doors sweep open suddenly, as she's gauging how best to slow or stop this damn thing. She doesn't want it to reach where it wants to go, and her hand feels force. The curse she makes is mostly swallowed by the wind, but the bullets that come afterwards, aimed at the very noticeable Bluebird make a wonderfully big noise.
Kara Danvers	Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Kara Danvers. The mousey mail-room employee of the Daily Planet. Having returned to Earth only a few weeks prior, after having been gone for over nine months in space, she was having to work her way back up from the bottom. Honestly, it's fine. She got to spend a lot of time with Lois, which made the transition a lot easier. And most of the people here didn't pay her much attention once they realized she was Clark Kent's weird cousin from Sweden. She was dressed in typical clothing, skirt, button down shirt, blonde ponytail and red framed glasses. Pushing a cart through the bullpin delivering mail because, as one of the last print media News outlets in the country, apparently they still got regular old mail. She's grinning in an awkward, shy way. It's disarming enough that nobody even gives her a second glance when her brow suddenly furrows... turning to stare off into the ether when the familiar sound of bullets firing can be heard over that great distance.. "Excuse me." She says, slipping her cart quickly down the hall towards the ladies room. When nature calls, it's hard to ignore! Damn Nancy for bringing that Oreo Cake.
Harper Row	The first shots are blessedly too eager in their delivery from the transport truck's back trailer. Bluebird catches the muzzle flashes, but not those first rounds. Good thing, because those have to be fully automatic on semi, on that Semi. Harper is going at speed, her dull-matte ebony bike is veered to the side but does not stop pursuit. "Fuck you!" Harper jinks her handlebars, her wheels chirping like startled gulls, and throttles down to add some manueverability, before surging forward again by opening the throttle. Like a censor on a sitcom, her blue language is cloaked by the zealous sounds of her souped up bike, and nearly makes her PG-13 to the minivans and sedans she's still close to. Those other vehicles start squealing off to the sides, and it would be nice to say they were unscathed, but no such luck. Bullet holes rebound or sink into chassis of cars and small vans alike, removing side mirrors and in one circumstance, popping a tire. Harper's grimacing face shows beneath her mask, spit quick-dried away apart from the stuff that's practically foaming at one corner. "Assholes!" Her next attempts are to be the sole target, to draw their fire, and she risks popping a wheelie to show-boat and encourage them, every part of her not lashed down tight, streaming behind her like a maniac. "Your scalps are gonna meet the pavement assholes! Pucker up this is getting parked between legs!" Bullets start to hit her bike, some deflected by her windshield, some reflected by her protective plates, but some hitting with the force that'll be agony when the adrenaline wears. The grapple line she's going to deploy from her wristguard takes a hit and one of her arm flies wild, swinging in her shoulder socket like she was windmilling up to pantomime a punch. "Fuckingassmothersmuckerfriggin-" The three masked dudes in the back of the trailer aren't very organized, reloading in a way that's not planned, but staggered and decided via who is more spray happy than their buddies. Tac gear, heavily spray-painted with grafitti seems to be the aesthetic, goblin-teeth masks and messy paint jobs obscuring their lower faces. Grenades, guns, and a trailer full of volatile looking chemicals in tow.
Kara Danvers	The rest of the bathroom visit is sit-com level quick because it was simply a reason to get out of view of everyone. Pulling open the buttons of her shirt, Kara wooshes out of the room through a window and speeds across the city in her blue on blue with a red cape snapping behind in the wind. To her eyes, everything is in a kind of flash photo slow motion.. A sudden gust of wind passes by the truck, blowing one of the doors closed just when a gunman is readying his weapon to start spraying up the interstate. It catches him hard enough to send him hurtling to the front of the cab with a rough crash against whatever they're protecting. The other two blink... One of the cars hit by the spray of bullets, the one with the popped tire, veers dangerously towards the median, but stops dead when a tiny hand lifts the bumper of the front wheel drive sedan. She sets them back down and peers up the road where Harper is doing a wheelie to attract the attention of the two remaining gunmen. Another burst of air and very quite suddenly there's a Supergirl pausing in their path long enough for every single bullet to hit her in the stylized S on her chest. Then she's gone, leaving them staring and startled as she lands in the middle of the road ahead of the truck, eyes glowing bright red for a second... she leans forward and clenches her fist, firing a pair of red beams from her eyes aimed directly for the engine block of the transfer truck. With the kind of obscene accuracy that destroys the engine without exploding the vehicle. Leaving the breaks intact for when the acceleration pedal no longer works and all they've got left to do is break or hit the immovable object that is a tiny blonde Kryptonian.
Harper Row	It all happens so fast. There's the jibber-jabber of the mouth-covered Thugs either yelling at one another brazingly making bets of who nails the Bird, or a civvie, or their Handler up front at the wheel telling everyone to focus. And then...abrupt chaos, delivered with such panache and control. The shock and awe of the Kryptonian, so striking in power and visuals, has muzzles trying impossibly track her, trigger-fingers spasming. Wrenching their necks when they've finished blinking, trying to reacquire her. So much yelling, in so short and frantic a time. The truck driver is just realizing how much loss of acceleration or anything they've got, and one could imagine their foot slamming up and down on the gas pedal like they were playing drums for a heavy metal band. There's a very particular kind of fear when faced with heading head-long into the famous costumed heroine in front of them. They're tough guys, but they're not inhuman, and the mix of nigh invulnerable building-buckling blonde hand-in-hand with being okay with driving through a human-looking person, is a toxic conflict. The brakes ~are~ applied, and both feet are pressed hard down on that sucker. "Her eyes! Her eyes! Oh shit! Fuck me! We're gonna dieeeee!" Harper's front wheel slams down and her engine ~Hrrrr-hhhreeee-hreeeee's~ as rubber meets the road and traction is gained. The glimpse she gots nearly flummoxed her as much as the Thugs she's chasing. Superhero Shock is a thing, and while she's not going to be outright stunned, she's totally affected. Lots of thing, to varying degrees she won't ever drill down too deep on. Her surface emotions play off with ~more~ swearing, gobbling at the passing air stream, stammering and hauling ass to swoop in at the rear of the trailer and ~into~ the trailer with as much survivable velocity she can and tackle the dude still standing that wasn't given such a whammy by the trailer's door. The impact is satisfying and severe, but moreso to the grafitti ganger. She follows up with a clap to both ears and scrambles like gremlin towards the third where she proceeds to rabbit punch his groin into next week.
Kara Danvers	The truck slows, smoke rolling up from tires squealing across the pavement, as it approaches the unmoving object that is a five foot nothing blonde woman in a mini-skirt and red cape. Big blue eyes stare through the wind-shield at the driver until the gril, belching black smoke from where she'd destroyed the engine block, almost taps her nose... disappearing her beneath the hood. Until she slowly hovers upwards to bring her to eye level with the driver once more. There's a casual seriousness in her stare. She's not overly aggressive or cruel, certainly not as much so as her clone sister ''should'' be... but she's definitely more 'no-nonsense' than the tabloids say of the Kryptonian Darling. One blonde brow raises.. daring him to do anything that isn't giving up, arms laid across her breasts, the breeze of passing cares snapping and flicking her cape around here. When it's clear he's going to stay put, she hovers around the side of the vehicle towards the back... and casually tears the bent frame of the door directly off the hinges. It's a show of force. a Deliberate example of how very easy it could be.. and she holds it up with her small fingers easily rending metal into a twisted fist, head tilting to peer inside. "Hey guys." She says in her weirdly accented voice. While she's been on earth for a seven years, the Kryptonian accent never really goes away. "What'cha doin?" A big grin. Almost friendly. Especially to Bluebird. "Hey." Fingers wiggle on her other hand. Hopefully these guys aren't the dumb kind who shoot at her knowing it'll just bounce off..
Harper Row	In the back of the trailer, there's those three armed dudes. But they're in very different states than before Kara showed up to resolve the situation safely. The one who got thrown against the lashed-together barrels is out of it, a nasty welt aside his stupid head. Harper is feeding her ass to the back of the head of one of them as she twist-ties his wrists as swiftly as possible. Her movements well-practiced, messily giving a painfully tight binding due to expedience, because she's just noticing the upraised butt of a rifle out of the corner of her eye raised to empty the marbles from her head. Kara's friendly inquiry stops him dead in his tracks. Oh, and how that door just got ripped off like it was wrapping paper. To his minimal credit, the thug drops his gun and raises his hands. There's some instinct that makes it painfully clear that trying to take a hostage of the feral looking Bluebird, when the Kryptonian is so close, would be even stupider. "We're playing Uno..." Harper grates, sniffing, feeling the adrenaline like a drug rush. All that momentum down to more pedestrian levels, with the safely stopped. "I had 'em, I could of taken 'em." she blurts overly defensively. Her blood is up, her bike is off in a ditch a ways down the road. Still so pissed off at her impromptu take-down resulted in a shit show. And Kara saved the day no two hoots about it. Harper's rising from her captive incidentally breaks his nose before she rises and she immediately does violence upon the surrending thug, kidney-punch and turning him around and thrusting him over a barrel while she grabs another set of restraints. "Mutherfucker...you're far from home." This is totally meant for the thug, but it's also rather appropriate for herself. "...made me chase you cowboy." Harper turns her head to gaze sullenly, enviously towards Kara's floating form. She does her best Batgirl face. She's trying to calm down. "Hey."
Kara Danvers	The door clatters against the pavement when Kara drops it, coming to rest up against the back bumper as she settles her tall red boots on the interior of that truck. Just watching, daring the guy to hit Harper. Daring him, without even saying a word, to 'screw around and find out'. She tilts her head with a little quirk of her lips when he raises the butt of that weapon, then smiles gently and nods when he opts to drop it with his hands up. That was a good idea. Very proud. Then her blue eyes are on Harper who goes ahead and kidney punches him and gets all defensive. "Sure." She says nonjudgementally. Wearing no less a smile, with no less positivity, than if she'd just walked into a coffee shop instead of a high speed, gun fight. She wences at the violence, but... doesn't flench. Sliding her arms back across her chest with her hip jutting slightly. "You did a good job protecting those people." Her arms unfold to thumb backwards. She'd seen how she tried to use her bike to block the bullets. "I'm just glad I could help." Perhaps noting the way she'd gotten defensive. "I'm sorry, if we've met, it's been a while." Metropolis PD is a whole lot more efficient about response to GCPD and there's already sirens approaching from the direction of the city. "Want me to carry you and your bike somewhere once the authorities get here?"
Harper Row	Harper's chin raises, and her lips press together tightly. She didn't hear that, with how heavily she's breathing and cussing out her captives. She double checks to make sure all three are either unconscious or restrained. She nabs the guns one-by-one, and ejects their mags, flicking on safeties and moves to get them out of reach. She has a sour expression the whole time. She handles the weapons with experience, no fumbling, wrenching on them like they also talked back. "Bluebird." she murmers. She's not happy with her performance, but it's dawning on her like the sun that things could have been much worse. The kind words have her showing her teeth and turning away so her expression isn't on full display. The furrowing of her brows so severe it's starting to hurt under the inside of her mask. It almost toggles her infrared vision options. She ~does~ accidentally trigger her hook boots upon leaping from the trailer to the ground, because those muscles meant to toggle their activation are not as tightly under control as they should be. The twin curved talons meant for piercing walls for ascent or hanging around make a ~kak kak~ and she sneers and takes a breath, making them retract before turning back to Kara. "No problem, whatever...I'm Bluebird." Jeez, does she hate the way that came out. She rolls her shoulders and tries again. "Carry me?" She blinks rapidly and feels like she's going to die a little inside. Jeez GCPD could definitely take a lesson from Metro PD...those sirens. Her presence isn't beneficial here, only that this truck got stopped. "Gawd damnit. Yes. Sure."
Kara Danvers	Kara turns as Harper makes her way towards the edge of the truck and jumps down. Ignoring both the sour expression and the obvious disdain, perhaps sensing that it isn't ''really'' meant for her... Or not caring. It's possible that both are true. She just keeps smiling, and it's genuine. She even hops down herself rather than hovering out of the back of the truck. Bending to grab the edge and dropping with a little "mmfh." As if gravity was a thing she had any care for at all. The approaching sirens clearly aren't bothering her. Metropolis have long had a good standing relationship with her kin. So it was of little concern to ''her'' that they're showing up, but she's gathered that Bluebird is, by a glance at the license plate of the truck, from Gotham. "It's a long walk." She offers with a grin. Then a nod. First she steps up and holds out her arm, "I don't bite." She assures jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. Once the other has accepted the arm, she hovers towards her bike, grabs it around the shaft in a careful grip so as not to bend the frame, and takes flight. "Where do you want me to drop you off? I doubt you want to take this to a regular mechanic?" Lifting the bike as if it were little more than a paperweight.
Harper Row	Harper is all tension as she's aloft. Leaping off a roof or dangling from a wire, swinging from a thing or gliding on a flyer...that's all part of crime fighting. Somehow that's easier to accept than being carried like this. And being this close to an unscathed demi-goddess on earth is a thing too. "I do." she comments, and it feels about as good a comeback as a broken boomerang. "I'm good with my hands and I have tools for situations like this. Anywhere that looks out of the way. Anywhere I can cool my heels without too much attention. You're probably way busy." she says, in as cool a manner as she can manage. She's not mastered the cool delivery of some other Bat-fam, still on the fringe, which is saying something about vigilantes. "Don't wanna mess with you having to punch asteroids or kick giant aliens." Harper tries to subtly key her optics to give Kara a bit of a scan. The equivalent of a quick up-and-down glance, like trying to measure up a rival. The competition getting scoped out now that it's in person, and not a tv screen or article. She wonders if Batwoman ever feels like this when collaborating with a Supe.
Kara Danvers	"I wouldn't. You'll hurt your teeth and you've got a lovely smile." Kara says in all good nature. Blue eyes flick over at Harper, then forward as she flies them a short distance further away from Metropolis. "I know a place, outside of town. Warehouse, good lighting, easy access to the interstate." After a pause, "Not in Metropolis." As if that's somehow important. Superman nor Supergirl have ever been particular about who could or could not fight crime in the city they usually protect. So it probably wasn't meant as a 'stay out'. Hard to tell while wind is rushing through her hair, carrying a vigilante in one arm and a carting her bike in the other hand. Once the warehouse is within view, she slows them down and, eventually lands at the front of the abandoned building. The bike is set down once Harper is let loose from her grip. She even adjuts the handlebars so the tire isn't turned at a weird angle. With a step back, she bows her head, "Alright, well, good luck fixing your bike. Safe trip home. If you need anything just shout, I'll hear you." She will too. With a wink and a grin, she shrugs and glances back towards Metropolis. If there's any rivalry directed at Bluebird, she's got it carefully under control. But honestly, what rivalry would there be? This is America's Sweetheart, afterall. Neverminding of course that she just laser beam eyed an engine block. "Gotta go kick an asteroid." Hovering backwards and up, cape kissing around her ankles, "Good to meet you Bluebird. If you're ever in the business of coming by Titan Tower, we're always looking for new people?" Then she shifts around and is... gone.. with a woosh that blows dirt and rattles the chainlink fence in her passing.