milliways_bar | A Blackhawk walks into a bar...

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A Blackhawk walks into a bar...

Zinda's good cheer is never fully diminished, but there are a few clouds graying up her sunny sky today. Still, she's whistling as she strolls into the bar, kitted out in full uniform: every pleat on her skirt ironed to a precise knife-sharp edge, her gloves spotless white, her hat and boots polished until they shine. The poppy on her breast is as red as fresh blood. If she looks like she was lifted straight from a Memorial Day parade, it's because...

Well, she was.

She parks her shapely behind on a barstool and lays a white-gloved hand gently on the glossy wooden bartop.

"Champers, if you please, missy," she says, and smiles when the glass and bottle materialize. "You're aces, hon."

A few photos get laid out carefully next to the glass: black-and-white shots of a bunch of flyboys, mostly. She sets them all out and fills her glass, then lifts it.

"You're on the wing, fellas," she tells them. "At ease."

[Tiny tag: Zinda Blake]

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"They look swell. A finer batch I never did see."

They look a hell of a lot like the Blackhawks, honestly, though his pal Steve doesn't look – or sound – anything like Bart.

Both were natural leaders, though, if she's to believe him. Her grin shines out again. "Just kiddin'. They look like a truckload of trouble, the rascals."

"They were that, for sure," Bucky agrees, grinning back. "They'd have loved meeting your squad. Together we'd've turned everything upside down, I bet."

"The war probably woulda been over in about five minutes flat," she laughs. "So we could all go drinkin'."

It's all bluster, of course – but what a team that would have been.

"That'd have been one hell of a party." Bucky raises his glass once more.

"Here's to the squad - yours and mine both."

She laughs and lifts her own. "I'll drink to that."

Draining her glass, she tops it back up again, and his, too. "I sure am glad you decided to pop into the bar today, blue eyes."

"Good timing," he tells her, picking up his glass again. He guesses the nightmares were good for something for once.

"I'm glad, too."

"Just let me know when it rolls around for you," she tells him. "I'll be glad to repay the favor."

"I will," he promises. "It'll be a while, though. It's June where I'm coming in from."

"Just missed it! Shucks."

Her disappointment doesn't last too long, though, and she grins at him again. "Fourth of July comin' up, though."

He chuckles a little at that.

"So it is. And they don't celebrate it where I'm coming in from, so I'll have to be sure to stop by."

"That'll be swell."

Any other day she'd flirt, ask him about how things are going, maybe go for a dance (or a dance) –

– but today's about other folks.

His small smile is gentle and understanding. Bucky reaches for the bottle and tops up her glass, then nods to the photos.

"Want to tell me some stories?"

"Oh, hell." She's laughing again as she reaches for her glass. "I sure would. It's just hard to know where to start. Those boys got into a peck of trouble well before I ever showed up... but there was this one time we found and island with some kinda sorceress queen who took one look at Blackhawk, and, well –"

What a day that had been.

"Sorceress queen?" He laughs, too. "Was she looking to crown a king?"

"Y'know, I thought she was," Zinda laughs.

And oh, had she been mad as a hornet about it. "Turns out she'd just needed the help of a good man like him, so it all came out right."

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, looking truly interested. "How'd that turn out?"

"Well, it was my first day on the job, so to speak. First time I got to fly out with the squad as one of the Blackhawks. Along the way, we flew over this hidden island kingdom, Xenovia. Well, queendom, I guess," she amends, and takes a sip at her champagne.

"We were surprised as all get out when the Xenovians shot us down. Guess they thought we were the invadin' army of some 'Iron Duke' who'd been givin' them a mess of trouble. Once she realized we weren't with this Duke, Queen Penelope was all over Blackhawk like ants at a picnic. She wanted our help gettin' rid of the buggers, see?"

"Sorry we shot you, now help us please?" he summarizes, sounding as wry as he looks.

"Y'know, I don't even recall that they said 'sorry'!" she laughs.

"Anyhow, ol' Iron Diddle Daddle showed up about then and we all got into some fisticuffs. I saw Queeny sneak off to a big ol' gun up on a cliff and followed her – I wasn't so sure we could trust her, mind. And when I saw her aiming at the Blackhawks down below, I was spittin' nails, I was so mad."

She shrugs, gestures with her glass. "Turned out she'd been aimin' at the other fellas and I screwed up her shot. They managed to corral the Blackhawks pretty quick after that, put 'em in a big glass room and started pouring sea water into it."

"... I guess that's one way to take out a whole squad," he says, a little dubiously. "And for all you knew, she could have been in league with the Iron Duke."

He shakes his head.

"So how'd you get them out?"

"Well, I undid a rope on a nearby flagpole and swung across the gap between us to draw fire," she explains. "And since I swung straight past the glass wall, the Iron Duke's men shot it out for me, neat as you please."

Bucky laughs at that.

"Nice work."

"Not bad for a first day, huh?"

She's laughing too as she drains her glass and tops it up again; his too. "I never could understand why so many bad eggs went the 'costumed supervillain' route; seems like an awful lot of upkeep. But they're still doin' it in Gotham and everywhere else in the future, so I guess somethin' about it musta caught on."

Bucky grins.

"Costumed superheroes too, I'd wager."

"Them too," she chuckles. "That's my bread 'n butter these days, cartin' around the Black Canary and Huntress 'n the Skipper."

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