Claws on Ice
I didn't wait for an invite as I hopped the boards.
Within three strides, I did a hard lap around the perimeter, deliberately cutting right through the center of their passing circle, intercepted the puck cleanly off the stick of one of Harlan's flunkies, flipped it over another guy's blade with an effortless lift, and buried it backhand into the top corner of the empty net.
“Hey! Who the hell let the chick out here?” someone yelled.
Harlan skated over slowly, his stick resting casually across his shoulders, his crew rolling up behind him.