----
Next day. Wilde had gotten down to finishing up a project he'd been given. Keep a tab on the Vahzian. Creatures commonly mistaken for zombies, they seemed to be popping up everywhere. Wilde set out to do this, and nothing else, trying to avoid trouble where he could, as he dodged through the streets of King's Row.
That wasn't all the King's Row was swarming with. Homeless people battling magic wielding blasters made him seriously wonder about this town's priorities. The lull of the Outcasts' cry for mutant unity might have fooled Wilde if he didn't know better. He was better at keeping hidden than he had any right to be, since stealth tactics were one of the Dreamers' specialties.
Thinking of his old group in Chicago brought back some very warm and pleasant memories. If Terri was alive, she probably wouldn't approve of Wilde's activities right now. She wasn't around, though, so it didn't really matter.
King's Row could be called the slums of Paragon City without fear of contradiction. Wilde knew areas like this from Chicago, though. Especially Chicago, post war. Places like this, even the sky seemed more grey. This was still only a few months after the heroes had been granted widespread access to Paragon City, so things were worse then than they might be now. That sentence had an abysmal amount of words that started with "th."
Wilde hadn't expected to run into any familiar faces out here. As he was dodging through an ally, watching a pair of heroes take on a whole horde of Clockwork, something caught his attention. A familiar figure in the corner of his eyes who was doing her best to keep out of the heroes sights as well.
Jennifer? Wilde turned, careful not to pick his pace up too much. It wasn't too hard to keep from being noticed. No one in the slums made eye contact, as far as Wilde could tell. The figure slowed down a couple times, obviously not trying to avoid Wilde.
She bobbed and weaved down a few alleys as the sun slowly descended, finally ending up sitting in front of a building that looked like it'd been through it's fair share of torchings, and almost survived a few of them. Jennifer was oh so casually sitting on the stairs when Wilde finally caught up with her. Wilde would have smiled if his bones weren't aching from unreleased energy. Jennifer didn't look up. Jennifer sat with her elbows resting on her knees- a slight shift on weight from one elbow to the other was her only acknowledgment of Wilde's presence.
Wilde sat besides her, keeping his head low, and said nothing for a while. The sun was low enough most of the citizens - prisoners? - of King's Row had dodged back into their house. There wasn't enough darkness to bring the more vicious elements of the night out. But the heroes. Those damned heroes were everywhere, day, night or whatever.
Eventually, though, the streets were about clear enough. Wilde glanced over at her. To his surprise, she was looking back. She didn't look half bad when she wasn't high or psychotic, ya know? And those eyes. . . Wilde almost lost himself in a daze and forgot to talk.
Wilde: Uh. . . new hideout?
When he finally remembered, he kept his voice nice and low.
Jennifer: Old. Real old.
Wilde: Huh?
She sighed, taking a few deep breaths before answering.
Jennifer: Used to live here, is all. I probably shouldn't be here. Probably just cause a scene. I hate it.
Tense silence filled the air. Wilde, not knowing what to do, if she'd run off or attack him for doing it, reached over, and took her hand in his. When she didn't yank it away, he looked up to see her almost smiling.
It wasn't even a real smile and it still sparkled in this rat Row like the jewel of Hara pressed against a gray Fifth column outfit.
Little gestures mean a lot. To them, it meant more. . .
Wilde relaxed and leaned forward. Jennifer's lips cautiously met his . .
-
IP Ownerships
My characters: Wilde Tanke, Terri Volcoli,
Friends, used with permission: Jennifer Delong.
Crypitic's: Vahzian, King's Row, Lost, Outcasts, Paragon City, jewel of Hara (I think), Fifth column.