2014.03.19 - A Kent by Night

Hell's Kitchen, while nowadays due to gentrification the place is seeing better days than some of the old ones, as this was where most of New York's poor foreign population settled around the turn of the 20th century. Still though, the bad parts of town at night are still great places for vice, dope men, pimps and hos. Tonight it's just rained and there is still a bit of the winter chill in the air, though spring is soon to be kicking her out on her ass during the days, anyway, for the time being. There is a low mist that seems to cloy and hang around this particular stretch of city, the street somewhat vacant of people.

Clark Kent ducks his head against the rain and fumbles in his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out, flicking it on and checking the address that was texted to him. It's bad enough that this particular contact doesn't like to be interviewed over the phone but to call him out to Hell's Kitchen at night is something else. He's not exactly worried for his wellbeing but explaining why an attempted mugging resulted in his being shot but unharmed is always a pain.

"Hey there, big boy," there is an alluring female voice from the mist somewhere, and in fact, on this dark and gloomy night, a female form appears. She's wrapped in red corsetry, barely constraining a pale comely bosom, long legs trapped in long black boots, booty shorts... and wings? As the woman comes closer out of a bank of fog it's quite apparent she's not human at all, and is in some sort of half-human half-bat lady, draped in stark white fur. She smiles, her red lips displaying a pair of ivory fangs as she casually approaches the man in the suit. Likely some john out here looking for some fun, or a dopeman for a package deal of a girl and some smack.

Clark has seen stranger things. Martians, Amazons and Gods of Evil just to name a few. But part of this 'disguise' is playing the part. His eyes widen at the strange-looking woman, taking a few steps back as he holds up his hands and stutters, "Now, I don't want any trouble, ma'am."

"Trouble? I'm not that much trouble, honest," she grins, pausing in front of him with her booted feet close together and arching her back just a bit, bending closer as she gives him a lovely look down her cleavage. "You sure you don't wanna play with Dizzy?" she even goes to the trouble of fluffing up her bust there, though there is nothing showing. A white furred, red-nailed hand is brought to her red lips and she blows a kiss to him, gesturing to him with an open palm.

"I-I'm pretty sure, ma'am," Clark answers with a polite smile, a Kansas farm boy all the way, "You have a good night, now. Maybe put on something warmer? You might catch your death out here." That said he turns on his heels, moving to cross the street.

oticing the 'john' starting to take a walk, there is a rush of wind and a high pitched noise, sounding like something almost rat-like, and as Kent turned around he'd find the bat woman standing right there again, but was there a flash of something small and white flapping over his shoulder...? "Now hold on sugah! no need to leave so soon!" and she smiled, her yellow eyes seeming all the more bright and intense if Kent happens to peer into them, as if they were like staring into a long river which one could get lost in.

"Oh, no, I'm sure there is," Clark answers, though his brow furrows at fuzzy affect Dizzy is having on his mind, "I've got somewhere I need to be. I'm not one to miss appointments." He moves to step away from her again, shaking his head to try and shrug off whatever attempt was made to get in his head and mesmerize him. His pace quickens substantially, walking almost - ALMOST - impossibly fast for a normal man.

"You got one right here, sugah," and already she was trying to put her arms around him and lean into him, as if trying to kiss him--when suddenly the man there that was supposed to be supporting here isn't there, causing her to stumble comically. "Ack! hey! come back here, damnit!" she sounded a little amusingly frustrated by now, her eyes widening a bit. "Wait a minute, how did you...?" she seemed dumbfounded, just for an instant.

"No time to chat! Sorry!" Clark calls over his shoulder, raising his hand but not turning around as he hustles towards the opening of a nearby alleyway. Already he's weighing up just what he ought to do. Should he sneak away, change into his costume and deal with this woman who seems to be up to no good? Or should he leave it to someone else? Daredevil operated around here, doesn't he?

The lady seemed to be fuming in a hilarious fashion, her fists curled held down as she hunched over, growling in a bit of a cute way as she suddenly began to stalk after him. "How do you run so fast, get back here!" catch her death indeed, she'd already managed that so far, so not too much worry there, though she definitely wasn't used to being stood up like this, so to speak. She'd be trying to follow him into the alleyway.

In the alley way, Clark has stopped to check his phone. Google Maps has him all turned around and he's not at all used to navigating Metropolis from the ground level. When Dizzy appears again he sighs, looking exasperated but in a purely genial way, "I don't think what you're trying is going to work, ma'am."

"Whaaat?" As Dizzy got around the corner, her boots tromping against the grit of dust and pebbles against the asphalt. "You tellin' me you didn't come here looking for a good time and all that too, right?" she had a bit of a southern accent, apparently, though it seemed to only rear it's head when she was upset or not paying attention, it was a cute southern belle affectation, at that.

"Not at all," Clark answers, shaking his head apologetically, "I'm just on my way to talk to someone. But if you're out to meet people I might suggest not playing with their minds." He seems replete with a wholesome, homespun quality though something in his last few words suggests he knows a bit more than he lets on.

"Pff, white boy in a suit in this part of town /not/ lookin' for trouble? And you just walked away from me like that? Something's not right here I say," Dizzy crossed her arms a bit defiantly, though she didn't seem to be blocking his way, just sort of standing here giving him a 'look' (tm), as in the sort women do when they're not amused with one.

"Journalist," Clark explains, reaching into his pocket to hold up his press pass just long enough for her to register that he has something in his hand, "I have to go into this part of town. Scoops and stuff."

"Yeah? I got two scoops for ya right here," Dizzy raised a brow at Kent and grinned, fangs hanging over her lower lip. "You admiring the urban devastation or somethin'? Ain't too much of that here since all the rich folks started movin' in, when I was a kid the trash never got picked up every day around here," she said with a little hmph sound and a smirk.

"I wouldn't know. I'm not from Metropolis originally." Clark merely averts his eyes at the two scoops reference, carefully skirting around the subject, "I've got a contact who lives here. I have to make a house call if I want an interview, unfortunately."

"Might make one of those myself this mornin', the night's left me a bit hungry," she waved a white-furred hand. "I don't know how you got away from me white boy, but we'll be seein' eachother, I guess," she snerked and blew him another kiss, just since it seemed to bother him.

"I think you might be in over your head," Clark points out, a polite smile on his face, "Just be careful. There are some nice people out here ... maybe you should get to know them?" That said he takes off, again walking ALMOST too fast. He doesn't pause or give her a chance to take off this time, instead disappearing into a cloud of steam rising from a grate in the alley. When it clears he's gone.