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dinah lance

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This is a totally logical and sensible way to do things. Shut up.

The way is: Dinah has a whole list of cities and places she wants to visit, including all over the United States; California, Pennsylvania, even Kansas, as she hasn't yet thoroughly investigated Keystone City.

She's starting in Greece.

This is, she claimed, because it's her vacation and she's always wanted to vacation in Europe and soak up the Mediterranean sun. But it's really because she's much less worried and apprehensive about what she'll find on Themiscyra than, for example, Star City, California. She hasn't even decided what she wants to find, but she can handle not finding it better if she starts with the Amazons.

Zinda's gone off to look at Egypt, after dropping Dinah off at an abandoned airfield. For some reason island-hopping on her own in a tiny plane is easier than admitting to Lady Blackhawk she doesn't know exactly which island is which on this world. Also, it feels more like a vacation.

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"Makes you an interesting, sympathetic character!" Dinah points out. "People see it and think 'Indiana Jones is really cool, but even he has a phobia. I can really relate to a normal guy like that!'"

Anyway, she teases Zinda about her Musophobia. ~~Just off-panel~~.

"I am not an 'interesting character'," he protests gruffly.

Hmmph. Sympathetic indeed.

"No," the Black Canary assures him. "You're an action hero."

"Damn right," he agreed. That was much better.

Wait.

"That doesn't mean. . . there aren't action figures or me, are there?"

Groan.

"Probably," Dinah admits. "But they can't be as bad as the ones you can get of me, even in my universe."

"Yours are a bit. . . busty," he says, smirking, and inspecting the bust in question. Purely for a comparison, you understand.

It's smaller than action figures and comics depict it. Also held in with kevlar, but mostly - smaller.

No one can do what Dinah does with anything that's going to get in the way.

"You make one little fashion mistake," she says, focusing on something else, "and they make you suffer for it the rest of your life."

It's still a bust worth looking at. Indy approves.

"What are you meaning?" He asks. And wonders if she'd model it for him.

"I had this thing, a few years back," she explains. "Puffy pants and sleeves, big black things on the shoulders. You're lucky you missed the eighties."

Edited 2008-06-21 16:57 (UTC)

"Sounds like it," he agrees. Although, you know, not. Because he'd have liked to actually have lived the time between.

She grins, hands on her hips. "Sometimes you just can't beat the classics."

That pose - is very flattering. Indy would appreciate it more, but he's distracted by the movement he can glimpse over her shoulder. Those look like animated skeletons. . . which wouldn't be so strange, only they look rather as if they're made of. . modelling clay?

"What the. . . ?"

Dinah frowns at his expression and turns around.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

She punctuates with an eyeroll.

"Incredible," he says, fascinated, uncoiling his whip ready to use it. The skeletons don't look to be much of a threat though - they're not exactly moving with any real steadiness. They look as if one good gust of wind could have them in pieces. Appearances, of course, can be deceiving.

They do, don't they?

Dinah draws in a deep breath, then decides to see how Indy handles it.

Yeah, that's right, she's standing aside.

He quirks that crooked grin at her, before deciding to see if his whip can take their heads off.

Well. What do you know, it can. (There should be theme music.)

Unfortunately, they're faster than they look, and that flashy move gets him closer to being surrounded by animated skeletons than he would like.

That's unfortunate, Dinah thinks.

She leaps forward foot first, taking the head off nearest one to him that his whip can't handle. On landing she spins and takes another.

Yes, she could get rid of them all with a scream. No, she doesn't want to.

Great, the lass kicks ass harder than I do, Indy thinks ruefully to himself, whist delivering a vicious sucker-punch that shatters the jaw of the next closest skeleton.

Well.

That was the plan. Actually, his fist sinks into what is most definitely modelling clay, and when he pulls his hand back, the skull comes with it. He shakes it free, chuckling. Well. Not quite what he had meant to do, but it worked!

"What the hell?"

Dinah uses a pretty standard judo throw to get rid of one - no two more, because it tumbles into a second.

"Animated clay. The work of a wizard?"

"No," he says, gruffly, "the work of a special effects department. I recognise these guys from some cheesy movies."

Dinah takes down another two, and turns to him - knocking back a third behind her as she does so.

"OK, clearly the whole movie-comics things has blown your mind, hasn't it?"

"My mind is quite sound, thank you," he informs her, discovering that his pistol rounds are explisive enough to knock the heads off the skeletons. "Trust me. Sinbad has a lot to answer for."

"Whatever you say," Dinah concedes.

"You might want to cover your ears for what's coming next.

He doesn't know what she's talking about, but if Dinah says to cover his ears, then cover his ears he will, Indy quickly knocks back the nearest skeleton, and clasps his hands over his ears, watching Dinah. This should be something to remember, whatever it is.

Dinah fights a lot like her mother, sometimes. But there is one thing that is just hers.

She draws in a breath, steps forward, away from Indy, and screams.

The skeletons slow, then stop.

She screams.

The ones nearest to her take a step back, as if subjected to some invisible force field.

She screams.

Where any skeleton is close enough to make out this kind of distance, the clay appears to lighten, dry and become rigid.

She screams!

Starting from the Black Canary herself, the clay skeletons crack and then explode, a wave of dust and shards spreading out from her in an ever increasing circle.

At that point, she relaxes, and breathes again.