As low as “bike theft” ranked on the sliding scale of heinous crimes, Donna didn’t want to let the deed go unpunished.
When she saw a shady-looking man trying to clip the chain of a locked bike, she grabbed a hoodie that was conveniently nearby and headed out the apartment window without hesitation.
After pulling the hood over her head, Donna leapt downwards, maneuvering carefully on her descent. She landed in front of the thief, startling the man in her abruptness.
The bike thief in question was quick to fight. Luckily, he was an easy fight, nothing that Donna couldn’t handle.
He swung his bolt clippers at her, an attack that was dodged with a duck. Swiftly, Donna struck him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him in the process, and finished the scuffle with a strike to the head. She pulled her punch just enough to limit the damage and ensure that he would only pass out.
He fell to the concrete, sprawling on the ground in defeat. There weren’t a lot of witnesses to Donna’s deed, save for one homeless guy sleeping across the street.
When the bike thief was out, Donna was quick to head straight back into the building. With a mighty leap, she jumped upwards, aiming for the apartment on the fourth floor.
Donna landed on the fire escape and climbed through the open window she had so swiftly exited mere moments ago. Her feet touched down on the floor just as the apartment’s renter in question stepped out of the bathroom.
Roy Harper, having finished a morning shower and shave, was surprised to be greeted with the sight of Donna Troy crawling through his window. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair was damp enough to cling to his forehead in little clumps.
“Whatcha doin’ over there?” asked Roy, his voice sounding both playful. Though it was easy to believe that he was being serious as well.
“I borrowed your hoodie,” Donna explained simply. She took off the garment and tossed it onto Roy’s couch. “Some guy was stealing a bike, I didn’t want to let him get away with it.”
Roy looked confused, only a little bit more so than he was at first. He raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh?”
“I kinda left the guy knocked out on the street,” Donna continued, walking to the coffee table. She picked her phone off the surface. “I should probably call the police…”
“I don’t think New York City cops are gonna bother arresting some bike thief,” Roy said. He started walking across the living room, “If they cared about petty crime, you and I would be out of a job.”
Roy entered his bedroom and shut the door behind. It didn’t take a lot of time for him to emerge out of it, now fully dressed.
For a change, Roy appeared to have put a little more thought into his outfit than usual. He had a button-front tucked into his nicer jeans, as well as a sweatshirt pulled over that.
“You’re certainly dressing up for today,” Donna noted. By now, she was near the apartment’s door and was pulling on a pair of boots. “Why so fancy? It’s just brunch.”
“Brunch on the Upper East Side,” Roy reminded. “They take it seriously over there. They won’t let me in if I show up dressed like a hillbilly.”
“I’ve seen real hillbillies and you don’t dress like one,” Donna claimed, sounding oddly sincere. “When you’re not wearing trucker hats, that is.”
Roy looked offended, “Ouch. That one hurt, Troy.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re the only person I know who can pull off wearing it backwards,” Donna assures. She stands up and grabs the double-breasted trench coat off a hook in the wall, “And you do look quite handsome in that get up.”
Roy smiles, “Thank you.” He walks over to the door, grabbing his jacket off the couch in the process.
Donna finishes buttoning up her coat and says, “Let’s go. Grayson said to be there by 10:30.”