Sunlight shined under the door like a ghoul's grin, yet gave the shutters a halo of golden rays. Waking was like a hammer swung with gusto toward a painted 'x' on Silvia's skull. Sleep dragged her backward until a new thought could penetrate - She had a new contract to discuss. The bed was warm, the air was cold, yet her legs extended outward into the chill.
Her feet grazed against the wooden floor and she found that it was, surprisingly, a lot warmer than she had been expecting. The girl's eyes lazily rolled open, glazed over with the remnants of a dream; one of the family that had been torn apart by a criminal no different to those she hunted down.
A groan rolled through her throat as she forced herself to stand. The burn near her ribcage was even more sore today than it was last night - like her mind had finally caught up with the pain.
Gently hovering her hand over the aching area, she shuffled toward her kitchen table. Silvia grabbed an apple from the bowl in the middle and plopped back down on the chair. Her free hand unfolded the Newspaper that sat on the wooden surface, the other bringing the apple to her mouth.
"The Reaper strikes again." She read in a small voice full of indifference, pearly teeth biting into the crust of the apple. The article was full of interviews regarding her other identity, some praising her and others shunning her. She was used to this by now, it seemed like every week there was a new article about the public's split opinions.
Silvia took another large bite from the fruit in her hand and turned the page. As expected, there were far too many articles about Superman. 'Man of Steel saves hundreds from plane crash'... 'Superman attends presidential celebration'... It was starting to feel like it was impossible to avoid him. Even there, in the security of her own home, he taunted her.
The girl leaned back and tossed the apple core across the room, getting it directly in the trash can with a quiet 'dink'. Silvia gave a sigh and, expression slacking to one of even greater boredom, she turned to the next page.
There in black and white filter was a photo of something all too familiar. A mech stood tall behind a bunch of people, and it looked exactly the same as the group of mechs that had attacked her the night before.
Silvia leapt forward, eyes widening at the page then scanning it for answers. None of the people looked familiar, but upon closer inspection she saw that they all wore the same shirt. Written on the breast pocket was the word 'Lexcorp'.
"Luthor." Silvia growled, stabbing her fingernail onto the Newspapers surface. A small rip formed beneath it and sunk through the robots head. Lex better hope that the Boy Scout doesn't read the paper.
There was little more excitement to be had staring at that page, and so it wasn't long before Silvia had thrown on any random clothes she found lying around the house and left. Attached to her thigh, as always, was a pistol. It was hidden beneath the fabric of her pants, yet still quickly accessible.
The alleyway was quaint and cobbled. The houses each side had walls that wobbled ever so slightly, but was apparent in the strong morning light. It winded a little, arcing to the right and the heady scent of mould drifted down from the many open windows. These were the slums of Metropolis - if the houses weren't falling apart then they were infested with insects.
Luckily, many of Silvia's clients lived in the higher end of town. If nothing else, it gave her an excuse to visit the richer part of society... Though anyone with a roof over their head that didn't leak when it rained seemed pretty well off to her.
Silvia always did tend to stand out in those neighbourhoods though. Her clothes were darker, tattier and cheaper - her mannerisms were rougher. The people that resided there would stare at her as she arrived and scoff when she left with pockets full of money. This time was no exception. One of the thugs she had killed the night before had a contract on his back, one made by an old widow whose husband had been shot dead outside their mansion. The elderly woman had been more than happy to pay Silvia to bring that murderer to justice.
This large portion of money could have fed her for at least a month while she looked for a new target, and paid her rent... but instead she had to spend it replacing the guns that damned Superman destroyed.
As she was leaving a nearby pastry shop, two pies stuffed into a thin paper bag, she could have sworn that someone was watching her. In fact, Silvia had felt this way for a large part of her day. It wasn't the stare of a man looking to her as a woman, but of being followed as a criminal. She shook this feeling off for the moment, eager to dig into the pies once she got to the bus stop.
The sidewalk was packed as usual for this part of the city, and Silvia found herself trapped in the flow of human bodies. She hated this... Southside never had this many people on the street at once. As she simply drifted along the current, she noticed that up ahead was a homeless man; he sat on the floor and leant up against the brick wall of an alleyway that opened up onto this path.
Silvia's breath hitched when she noticed that he had a dog curled up on his lap, motionless as it stared blinking at the passing crowd. Her eyes flashed back down to her food. Silvia knew what it was like to live poor in a city full of richer people, and she learnt that you can't make it without help. With a sigh, she ducked out of the human river into the alley, catching the attention of the man. He was young...probably around Silvia's age. Without a word, she handed the two pies to the man, who simply didn't understand what was happening.
"For you and your handsome friend." She said quietly to the man, eyes flicking to the dog once more.
He hesitantly reached out for the white paper bag, and gently plucked it from Silvia's hand. "Th-Thank you. Thank you so much." He muttered weakly.
Silvia smiled faintly, then slipped back into the bustling human traffic. She seemed to regret her decision once she arrived at the bus stop and felt the soft rumbling of her stomach. The bench was empty apart from Silvia, who stared grumpily down the street. Those pies had smelt so good...
"Uh excuse me, miss." She heard someone say in the distance. Silvia continued looking out for the bus, wanting nothing more than to get home. "Miss? Uh...e-excuse me." She felt a soft poke on her shoulder.
She sighed. Silvia slowly turned her head, rolling her eyes in the process. Towering over her as she sat on the bench was some loser. He was wearing a cleanly pressed, grey suit, had a briefcase in one hand and a pair of rectangular glasses on his face. "Hi. Um, my name is Clark Kent. I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet."
Silvia replied, sounding disinterested. "Oh. The tv show? The...Canadian one?"
Kent stared back at her, puzzled, for several seconds. "O-Oh no, no, sorry. The, uh, Metropolis newspaper."
Silvia glanced away, looking straight forward at the row of buildings across the street. "Oh. Okay."
Don't sit down, don't sit down, Silvia thought to herself but the oaf did so anyway and she could feel a growl of irritation form in her throat.
"I couldn't help but notice, Miss, that you're at the five twenty stop; you're going to Southside?" He questioned curiously.
"Yep. Suicide Slum." Silvia replied quoting Southside's notorious nickname, not looking back at the man.
Kent opened his case and removed a notepad and a pen. "Ah yes. Well I'm currently working on a piece that... Nevermind, I'd just like to ask you a few questions for a uh... citizen spotlight feature."
The outrageous proposition was enough to make Silvia turn her head to stare back at the awkward reporter. "You want to interview me?"
"Ah. Well...yes. Yes miss. I-If it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"It is." Silvia stated bluntly, eyes narrowing darkly at the man. "Go find someone else to bother, I'm not interested."
The man didn't seem to have heard her, and if he did, he had chosen to completely ignore her harsh tone. "It will only take a few minutes. We'll be done before the bus arrives."
"Well a few minutes is too long, bud." Silvia retorted with a condescending glare.
Clark, yet again, brushed her off. He flashed her a charming smile that seemed to shrink under his own awkwardness. His eyes crinkled at the edges and prominent laugh lines appeared on either side of his lips. "Ha, that was good. That was a good one, Miss..." He drifted off, very obviously asking for her name.
Silvia finally gripped the fact that this nut was too stupid to realise what she was saying...so she reluctantly decided to humour him. "Silvia. Silvia Stone."
Clark swiftly glanced down to his notepad and scribbled the name on the top corner. He glanced back up with a grateful grin. "Nice to meet you, Miss Stone."
Silvia looked at the man's now confident smile then she suddenly scoffed, straightened up in her seat and said "You gonna start yet?"
"O-Oh, yes. Of course." Clark stammered, fumbling with his notepad and his pen slipping from between his fingers. It landed on the ground with a quiet 'tink' and her teeth gritted together at the sight.
Silvia bent over, fingers reaching outward until they brushed against the pen.
"Thank you, Miss Sto-" He started to say, extending a hand out to retrieve the utensil.
Silvia stared at his hand then back up at him, eyebrow raising and a smirk lingering on her lips. She brought the pen up to eye level, and in one small flick, she snapped it in half.
In the distance Silvia could hear the screeching of bus tires against the many potholes that scattered around Metropolis. The girl jumped back to her feet, turning around only long enough to tuck the two ends of the pen into Clark's shirt pocket.
"Have a good day," Silvia started with a smug expression but it quickly fell when she realized that she couldn't remember the man's name. She glanced to the press pass on his suit, squinting at it and muttering "Kent Clark."
The man let out a forced chuckle, smile never wavering despite how rude Silvia was. "Oh uh haha...close. It's--"
"I don't care." She steamed just as the bus was pulling up beside her.
The doors to the vehicle opened, squeaking with the struggle it took. It was an older model with worse suspension than a homemade bike. The government refused to send the new ones to Southside after the large amount that came back vandalized. The girl quickly jumped on board, more eager than ever to escape the awkward interaction.
The reporter stood up and gave a wave that Silvia pretended not to see. "Um. I-I guess I'll uh see you later."
Silvia groaned in frustration. "Please don't. Get lost pal."
The girl didn't stay long enough to hear his reply. She passed the bus driver the exact amount of change for her ticket and hurried to the back seat. Every passengers eyes were bleary, reactions slow, tiredness running in their veins just the same as their blood. It took forever, it seemed, for the old diesel engine to roar back to life and pass the bus stop. The reporter had still been standing there waving, and when her window passed him, she sunk lower in her seat.
This week just kept getting worse.
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