Bring it, Bitch
Selina doesn’t duke it out for those “best fighter in the galaxy” designations, as she’s said that’s for women like Lady Shiva who don’t have anything else going for them. That said, she can kick prodigious ass when provoked–or to get into the Victors’ Room at a certain underground Gotham fight club:
“Gaia, mother of all,” Pamela said, wide-eyed.
“What is she doing to him?” Doris said, appalled.
Harley tilted, not just her head but her whole body bent to the side to survey the scene from a full 90-degrees. She gestured, grabbing her right forearm in her left and jamming her thumb into the side. “I think she broke his wrist and is just pulling him around by it,” she said.
“It looks painful,” Pam noted.
“Well that would be your fault,” Doris said, and then broke into an unflattering impersonation: “Catty, I think you should let one of us do the honors. You do have a history crushing on your opponents, and I don’t mean the respectable way crushing a windpipe. We don’t want you getting flirty tonight of all nights.”
Harley snorted. “One look at that guy, NOT gonna be a problem.”
“It was a joke, sort of,” Pam said feebly.
“Not a funny one, and you gave her something to prove,” Doris concluded.
“She just likes showing off,” Pam grumbled. “I mean look at that. You’d think she’d been working out with Batman a couple of times a week.”
On cue, Selina flung Braden ‘Mercy Stroke’ Carver out of the sankyo she’d used to lead him around the ring, and then she flipped forward as he stumbled back and finished him with a high kick to the chin.
“And that gets us into the V-Room!” she announced, rejoining the party.
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