Home was supposed to be a haven. It wasn't a place you should be scared to be at. It wasn't somewhere you would think of running from all the time. But Silvia preferred the streets. It felt safer than home. Out there she was always prepared, forever cautious of the dangers that may present themselves...but at home she felt tempted to relax. Letting her guard down for even one second could end badly, especially in Southside where break-ins were the least of her worries.
Silvia slumped down in the living room couch, one of her last remaining guns clasped at her side. The couch, though once might have been beautifully designed, was worn past the point of distress with small tears and holes. The once bright tan colour had been bleached by the sun that streamed in the window, the hue now tinted to a soft beige.
It was, in all honesty, the most uncomfortable thing she had ever had the miserable misfortune of owning, but it had been free so she could hardly complain about it. The urge was there though after spending the last few days laying on its lumpy cushions.
It seemed that she was taking quite a number of breaks lately, and most of it was because of Superman. She couldn't even breath without him rushing in and ruining her contracts. Silvia's determination still hadn't wavered but she hoped that planning her marks a little more carefully would get her back on track...and help her avoid Superman.
The last assassination attempt was burned into her skull. It had gone horribly wrong, and though she blamed Clark for that, she worried that he had been hurt. Silvia hated the idea of innocent people being in the middle of her fights, even if that person was the most agitating person she had ever met.
The thought never left her no matter how many nights passed. Eventually it got to the point where she was considering hacking into government files and finding out where he lived, just so she could go over and check on him. Silvia shook the idea out of her head, even she had a line that she wasn't willing to cross.
The blonde had just found a position on the firm couch that seemed almost tolerable before a knock echoed through her apartment. The girl's gasp of surprise quickly turned into a groan at the knowledge that she'd have to get up. Who could possibly be visiting her at that hour- no, at any hour? She didn't know anyone well enough to expect visitors, and she got her packages sent elsewhere.
Silvia pulled to her feet, holding the gun to her chest and sauntering towards the door. She had no peephole but she did have a crack, one large enough to show the shadow of a man on the other side. Silvia's jaw tensed.
Silvia pushed the chair away from its place holding the door shut. The hinges were still broken and grey as unburnished silver, dull and spotted with years of water damage. Where there should have been some fancy handle was only a square shaft of dark cold metal. She closed her fingers around it but they simply slipped over the coarse edges and came away blackened. Silvia cursed at the slick doorknob and opted to just pulling it open by the corner. The door never closed properly anyway...
As the barrier swung open the visitor's sheer size became apparent. He was at least a foot and a half taller than Silvia, and twenty times as broad. He attempted to hide this bulk beneath a thick suit, but nothing could obscure it completely.
Silvia's gaze trailed upward, grip on her gun tightening until she found his face. Glasses were slapped over his eyes like an afterthought and his dark hair was forced back, unnatural for such an unruly head of curls.
"Clark..." Silvia breathed, not sure whether to be surprised or annoyed.
"H-Hey, Miss Stone." He said nervously. "What are you doing with a gun?"
Silvia blinked at him in confusion, fingers curling around the cool metal in her palm. Wait... metal? Shit. Silvia jumped at the same time her racing heart did, quickly pushing the weapon behind her back with an anxious chuckle. "U-Uh, it's nothing..." She stammered, mind reeling to find an excuse. "It's the slums, ya know? You need a gun if you're gonna live here..."
Clark, being the trusting doofus that he was, gave a nod of understanding. His lips stretched into a smile and, despite his height, he slumped to make himself look smaller. "Th-That makes sense, this isn't the best neighborhood... Uhh... speaking of which, why did you choose here of all places to live?"
"It wasn't a choice." Silvia sighed, obviously not wanting to discuss it. She shifted her weight onto her right leg and tapped her fingers against the door. "Look, is there a reason you're here?"
"O-Oh, I was just here for that interview you promised me." Clark said with a small smile. "And... uh... I wanted to ask if you're alright."
Silvia's shoulders slumped. "You mean... about that night at the bar? I'm fine, they just mistook me for someone else. It happens all the time."
"You have p-people shooting at you that often?"
"N-No... Well, I mean..." Silvia stuttered, biting her lip to cease confessing something she'd regret. "As I said, it's Southside, someone's always being shot at... I th-think it might be best if you just... forget it happened."
"That just makes me worry more." Clark hesitated, then breathed a heavy sigh. "But if it'll make you feel better I'll try not to mention it again."
Silvia's fingertips halted their rhythm, instead pausing against the broken door. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise then fell to the floor with a muttered "Thanks... I guess."
The silence that followed put Silvia on edge, it was about as normal as deserted streets during rush-hour. Even the loud couple down the hall refused to engage in their usual squabble. Every breath was suddenly ten times louder, and every scent stronger. For the first time since she'd met him, Silvia noticed that Clark wasn't cloaked in heavy cologne like most men she met in passing. Usually she would have the smell stuck in her nose for days, but his scent was subtle...and refreshing.
"So..." Clark finally spoke through the quiet. "How about that interview, Miss Stone?"
Silvia crossed her arms over her chest. "You never give up, do you?"
"That's what I've heard." His lips finally stretched into a full grin. Silvia actually felt somewhat relieved at this. It convinced her that he wasn't injured. "So, may I?"
The blonde huffed but it didn't take her long to step aside and motion for him to enter her small apartment. "I suppose I owe you that much."
The moment Clark stepped into the room his blue eyes darted about at his surroundings, taking in the new environment. She could tell that he was a little surprised by the sheer state of her home. Honestly, she couldn't blame him.
Sections of ceiling hung limp in the stagnant air. Fragments of plaster laid damp over a moulding floor, their only purpose to soak in the seasonal rain that leaked through the roof. Cold water seeped through the window frames, rotten and blistered, to nurse the mildew and rise up the wallpaper that peeled. The cupboards were a time-warp of long forgotten brands that barely lived on even in the memories of the elderly. All around were the remnants of a life lived but hastily discarded. No pictures, no drawings, no memories.
The only thing that seemed of any importance was a small vile that had been framed with the name 'Reginald' written messily on the bottom in black ink.
"What's this?" Clark asked, though something in his eyes told her that he wasn't exactly clueless on the matter.
"Just an...old friend." Silvia said lowly, trying to suppress the sorrow that threatened to leak into her tone. "Is that what you came here to ask me?"
For a split second she could have sworn that Clark's nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed in distaste. This didn't remain long enough for her to be certain though. Soon after, he was fumbling with his brief case and pulling out his notepad and pen. "S-Sorry, Miss... I'll start then."
Silvia rolled her eyes and directed toward the free spot beside her, which Clark gladly took. He fidgeted slightly in an attempt to get comfortable but after a few seconds he gave up entirely, apparently realizing that it was impossible on such a bony couch. His eyes darted up to Silvia beneath his thick lenses, clearing his throat and clutching his notepad in front of him. "What is your opinion on the bat vigilante in Gotham?"
"Pfft. It's not in my neck of the woods, so I couldn't care less what he fucking does." She answered a little too honestly.
Clark's lips pursed and he scribbled something down that didn't look at all like how she had answered. "Then what about the heroes closer to home? What about Superman?"
"Superman..." Silvia spat out the word like it as poisonous. "He's a pain in my ass."
Clark stared at her for a moment, brow furrowing. "But, he's only trying to help people, isn't he?"
"He's not helping me." Silvia stated bluntly.
The reporter gulped, adams apple jumping beneath his thick neck. His jaw tensed and sharpened, Silvia only now noticing how defined it was. "So, living among these Metahumans makes you uncomfortable?"
"Of course not! They have the right intentions, most of them are just bloody idiots." She leaned back against the broken spine of the couch. "I don't believe in criminalizing someone until they've actually done something wrong. Having power doesn't make you an enemy."
Clark actually appeared somewhat surprised by her answer, or perhaps how sensibly she had said it. He quickly wrote it down as if he were afraid he'd forget it.
"They're still idiots though." Silvia added, face reddening at the prospect of actually sounding serious. "And Superman's still an ass."
The reporter's mouth twitched upward, threatening a smile though Silvia had no idea why. "Thank you, Miss Stone. I'll write this up tonight. I may have a few additional questions for you later on though, if you're willing."
"I'm starting to think you're just looking for excuses to meet with me." Silvia teased.
"Now that would be very unprofessional of me, wouldn't it?" Clark smirked, adjusting his glasses and standing up. He tucked his utensils back into his briefcase and headed back towards the door.
Silvia felt her eyebrows curve inward and her forehead wrinkling in bewilderment. He hadn't denied it but she couldn't understand his reasoning. The reporter certainly didn't look at her the way other men would, and he didn't seem the least bit interested in her romantically or physically. This only confused her further because she already knew that the interview really wasn't the main point of his visits.
"I'll consider it..." Silvia answered more out of curiosity than anything else.
"Well, I'll just take that as a yes." Clark said with a grin. "I'll meet you at the Leive Cafe next Monday at twelve o'clock."
"And if I'm not there?" She quickly replied as Clark was exiting her apartment.
"Then I, uh... guess I'll just have to come find you again." The man laughed light-heartedly and shut the door behind him.
Silvia could hear him descending the stairs at a sedate pace, her door refusing to shut properly only making the sound more noticeable with no barrier to obscure it. Silvia squinted at the frame as she pushed the chair back against the door, blood beginning to boil through her veins. She had almost forgotten how annoying that man was.
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