Lana Lang’s cheerful smile faded as the raucous group in the corner made another batch of lewd comments at the leaving customers. The Talon was very busy, the Crows having won the Homecoming game. She didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with the five college-aged boys who’d obviously had too much to drink at the game.

“Connie, will you hand me the placard, please?” she asked.

Connie looked relieved and handed her the placard. Lana chastised herself for not doing this sooner, but it was irrelevant now. Tucking her wait tray under her arm, she smoothed her pink Juicy couture, squared her shoulders, and marched over to the problem table.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I think it’s time you vacate this table, so that others patrons may sit down,” Lana said, calmly and distinctly. She recognized them as former Smallville High baseball players: John, Greg, Les, Chuck, and Kelly.

“What if we don’t want to?” Les said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Chuck spoke up. “We haven’t finished our mochas, yet.”

“I think you have,” Lana said. She put the ‘We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone’ placard on the table.

Les snorted. “Like a little sign is going to scare us off.”

“Oooooh,” the others chorused, and laughed. Greg flicked the placard off the table. It clattered to the floor.

The noise level in the Talon dimmed, the other patrons’ attention focusing on the corner. Lana’s lips pressed together in a thin line as she picked up the placard and slapped it on the table again. “I asked you gentlemen to leave.”

Kelly smirked. “Make us.”

Lana cocked her brow. “Do you want me to call the Sheriff to escort you from the premises?”

“Now, Lana, you don’t really want to do that,” Les said.

John and Greg rose and circled around her. Chuck and Kelly turned their chairs. Lana glanced at each of them, as the Talon grew silent.

Les smiled arrogantly. “My friends and I will be staying.”

“Les-,” Lana leaned right into his personal space, “-don’t make me go Lana-fu on your ass.”

Les blew a kiss. “Bring it on.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed and she sprang into action.

She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the tray, swung it around, and clobbered Les upside the head. She continued the momentum, swinging the tray and smacking John in the face with it. John grabbed his nose with a cry. Pivoting on her foot, she back-kicked with her left, catching Kelly in the chest as he stood, knocking him back into the chair.

Greg snatched the tray from her, but the momentary loss of weapon didn’t faze her. She dropped forward onto her hands. Her left leg shot up behind her and over her bent body. The bottom of her pink sneaker-clad foot smacked against his chin. Greg dropped the tray and clapped his hands to his face.

Lana snatched the tray as she righted herself, pivoted on her heel, and used it as a shield against Les, Kelly, and Chuck. She blocked Chuck’s punches, lowered the shield, and threw one of her own. Her fist connected with Chuck’s fleshy jaw.

Les tried to tackle her, only she side-stepped and tripped him with her foot. He crashed to the floor. Lana jumped onto his back and bopped Chuck hard over the top of the head with the tray. It made a hollow sound and Chuck fell back onto the table.

Greg and John grabbed her from behind, latching onto one arm each. She allowed them to lift her away from Les, not dropping her shield as Kelly came forward to strike her. When Kelly was close enough, she flipped the tray, catching the lip of it under his chin. His head snapped up and he tripped over Les as he stumbled backwards. He crashed to the floor, smacking his head on the edge of a chair, knocking himself unconscious.

Lana let go of the tray and then dropped her weight to a crouch. Greg and John were off-balanced by the sudden move and loosened their grips on her arms. She rolled onto her back, freeing herself. Positioning her hands flat on the floor on either side of her head, she kicked upwards, pushing herself into a handstand at the same time. The soles of her feet caught John and Greg dead on in the face as they bent to try and grab her again. The impact knocked them both out cold.

Righting herself, Lana faced Chuck, her fists raised in a fighting stance. Her eyes flicked at Les as he climbed to his feet. The moment he was halfway up, she leapt forward, using his back as a pommel. Her legs curved around in a double round kick. The balls of her feet cracked against Chuck’s head and he went down for the count.

She landed nimbly on the other side of Les, bounced on her toes, and put her fists up again. She smiled wickedly, hair falling wildly around her face.

Les paled and held up his hands. “Now, Lana, let’s talk about this…”

“Sorry, Les.” Lana kicked him suddenly in the balls. He grabbed himself and fell to his knees with a whimper. “You should’ve left when you had the chance.”

Straightening, she smoothed her hair out of her face, fixed her shirt, and, as the other patrons applauded, looked over to Connie behind the serving bar. “Connie, will you get a broom, please? There’s some trash here on the floor I’d like to sweep up.”


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