B A T G I R L
Now | Midtown, Manhattan, New York City
It took all of a few minutes for her to mentally retrace everything she'd seen upon entering Marv's a little under an hour ago. The kitchen was in the northwestern corner, opposite the front door and the mounting chaos outside. She'd seen the street entrance to the basement had been on the true western side of the building where the streets were narrower. Shitty for traffic, but the best bet if she was going to keep people - kids - off the street and away from the action.
Outside, a geyser of water erupted and the windows shook in their sills again.
Babs hesitated only a moment before tugging the hood of her sweatshirt up (hardly Bat-approved, but if anyone came away from the day their four-year-old's pizza party was ruined by what or whoever the hell had blown up Midtown with a perfect recall of her face, well...they probably deserved her job more than she did), surreptitiously reaching into her pocket and making a sudden motion at the wall opposite her. Careful eyes might have discerned a purple blur in the air, gone again as quickly as it had appeared. A moment later, every light but those in the kitchen flickered out.
Someone near her screamed and Babs quickly, gently(ish), ushered the woman through the kitchen doors, away from the windows.
Almost immediately, the crowd turned and surged toward the double doors. Babs watched a moment, wondering if there was a way for her to disconnect said doors from their hinges without drawing too much attention, but no. The bigger issue was making sure the path from kitchen to basement and back to street level was clear before all she caused was a sweaty, bloated pizza crush.
Suddenly, a large glass pane near the far side of the restaurant exploded inward, showering a group of girls not much older than herself in glass. Babs saw one, a pretty brunette she'd overheard talking about her shitty boyfriend, drop to the ground. Green eyes flickered between the growing kitchen crowd, to the girls at the window, and back.
"Oh, fuck me," she muttered. Reaching behind her, she slapped a hand against the wall, leaving a thing purple disk against the plaster, flashing red at anyone who cared to stoop to hip-height in the face of imminent death. A moment later, she was launching herself across booths and tables again to crouch at the corner where the girls were screaming over their bleeding friend.
"Hi, sorry, ladies, can I just - " She planted a single tennis shoe against the jagged edge of the sill and boosted herself up in a single fluid motion before grabbing the roll-down grate from the outside and tugging down. She paused only for a second, staring in mingled amusement and curiousity at the scene in the streets before her.
"...Clark?" she muttered before she could help herself. Only, no. That was almost immediately apparent. Clark was older, bigger, stronger...and a hell of a lot less prone to anything beyond Boy Scout language.
"Who the shit -?" was as far as she got before something collided with a streetlight at the corner. Babs watched, speechless for once, as the thing - a girl - started to roll to her feet, only for another thing (most definitely a thing this time) to follow after.
Babs took a breath to...what, warn the girl, maybe? But before she could say anything, the girl had quite taken care of herself, dragging herself to her feet as the ethereal light around her faded in the wake of her admittedly impressive attack.
Babs blinked. "Well, fuck me."
At her feet, one of the girls still in the restaurant screamed, and Babs shook herself, tugging the grate down the rest of the way. Right. First things first.
She dropped back to the floor, wrangled an arm around the waist of the fallen girl before tugging one of the girl's arms over her own shoulder.
"Hi," she said plainly. "Can you walk? We gotta go."