Author's Note: Hopefully I can make this chapter long enough for you guys. I'm honestly angry at myself for how short these chapters are, and how suckish they truly are. Don't worry, I assure you they'll get better. ;)
3. Some Sight To Show
36th Street. Common streetname for a not too common place. Somewhat nearby Manhattan, a nearly familiar route to the sight of an unfamiliar building.
Or formerly a building.
A charred, midnight black smoke, mess was all of what once remained of a not too lively building. Perhaps a recently built-in apartment made of poor fire protection systems or out-dated, highly flammable furniture. Partial, barely recognizable debrsi scattered about, though no sight or sign of any such skeletons. A slight relief at least there were no casualties, but it hadn't answered the lingering question in Joey's mind.
When the hell did this supposed building even come to existence?
Perhaps she had passed it once without noticing or, as she suggested in hopeful explanation, a recently built in place. But...never once in the rare times she would pass by did she see any sort of construction in the process. Actually, the skeptical idea in mind sarcastically questioning in her mind was 'Didn't that used to be a dirty alleyway? Not dirty apartment?'
Well, quickly following after the lecture to herself that Joey needed improvement on her sarcastic humor rather than her sex appeal and attraction according to those down at the station highly picky over her every single minor, 'notticable' flaws.
Ah yes, and in mention of the wonderful, impatient boss grouchily awaiting for Joey's presence which had been delayed. The conversation went into a rather interesting turn, with Joey silently approaching the editing room to find her boss's back turned and violently screaming his heart out to the unfortune person on the other line, demanding for Joey. Upon timidly calling but boldly aproaching in the room, she startled him into a near heart attack, before he erupted out like a volcano.
'Christ Joey, you're thinking too much about fire lately. Calm down, this is just an arson story...' she made a mockery out of herself the second her mind had taken to notice all the similarities of such unnecessary puns, all linking to fire. To the arson report she was soon to cover, if not the place were already swarmed with other reporters that were wannabes to hit the big top.
And with it all, as Joey kept a steady concentration, hands tightly but casually relaxened on the steering wheel, it seemed as though there was another thing screaming that it had similarity, or the very least to say a connection to her dream earlier before the unwanted reunion supposed dream sequence. Remembering the field of fire she had managed to escape through, the one caused by something unknown- and just as strangely put out suddenly. Though she hadn't had time to take notice while running for her life while being pursed by eager demons.
Tired as she was, as well as cranky with a low supply of patience due to the lack of caffiene in her system, she wasn't about to let herself fall asleep. She figured perhaps the mid-morning madness soon to come of her daily job would wake her wide awake, though surprisingly her screaming boss, Ryan, hadnt woken her up. Quite something considering how many screw looses he had in his head when things didn't go his way, and the occurance of getting into a nearly heated argument with him. Though unfortunately, the advantage to it was, Ryan could fire Joey whenever he chose to. So for a regular, hellish basis Joey had to hold down her tongue. And right now, she had to keep her eyes wide awake. Which, taking notice to it, it was slowly starting to develop as being rather challenging to do so.
The sudden tap turned knocking upon the window right beside the front passenger's seat startled her suddenly, turning to find none other than Mark White. The young, basic replacement of Doc as her cameraman. Mark was a kid, roughly around twenty or so, fair skin and a sweet, innocent face with a fraction remainder of a 'baby face' with the large blue eyes and coy smile, and honestly someone with true brains. It marvelled Joey as to why this kid wasn't currently attendng some high class college. And it wan't like his kind personality and respect to her and his job was all an act in the many desperate ways to earn good cash, he acted like this even in the real life to it. Still, there must've been one kind of an interesting story for any reporter to be naturally curious.
But Joey wasn't obnoxious, so she hadn't quite brought up that in the typical, small talk conversations she would normally share with Mark. In speaking of which now, was grinning lightly. Though what he speaking to her seemed rather mouthed and murmured, drowned out by the humming noise of an engine, and Joey realized she had accidentally left the car running. Exchanging an apologetic grin back to Mark, she quickly parked the car and exited out of her seat to catch whatever was left Mark saying.
"- plan on coming out at some point?" he had been joking, and Joey shrugged, cheeks tingled though not blushing as he grasped ahold of his somewhat hand held camera. The technology within the year seemed to advance rather quickly, to where the size of cameras were a bit smaller, easier to grasp ahold of with two hands with their slightly lighter weight.
"Sorry Mark. Hey don't count yourself lucky, ya scared me half to death. I could've sprayed you." Joey winked, gesturing to the can of pepper spray in her hand that had been accidentally left in the car the other day. She didn't always travel about carrying it with her, but on the occasion she felt a slight need to bring with her such as now.
Mark chuckled loudly, before turning over with the sudden attention of the crowd of those gathering about in murmurs over what could've happen, and the midst of brightly chirping reporters re-telling their own version of the story.
"Well c'mon, better get on with the story before people get bored of seeing the same story over and over, even if it's your pretty face telling it." Mark winked.
Oh yes, a kindly baby faced boy with a devilish charm that used when at times he wanted. Though Joey was five years older, not honestly that much of an age difference, neither one was interested in one another. The relationship was a mutual friendship, though they would tease one another and engage in harmless flirting. Though sometimes it seemed as though you couldn't maintain a friendship of the opposite gender without others suspecting a romantic relationship, as some of the workers down at the station would tease her.
Shaking her head, Joey nodded and headed forth, following behind Mark. But as she politely tried to walk past the growing crowd of curious go-byers or those who must've been familiar with the building and surprised of how it had been suddenly burned down.
Suddenly, it seemed as though Mark had disappeared from the crowd, and by then Joey started to gently nudge and push people in the crowd out of the way so she could hopefully and quickly catch up to where the kid had gone off, her head frantically searching. About to call his name out while she walked, Joey suddenly felt herself smack straight into somebody, and both fell down to the pavement.
"Ouf! Oh! Sorry!" the voice of a female with a city accent quickly apologized, as a pair of slim arms attempted to help Joey off the ground. Shaking her head and trying to re-gain herself, Joey took sight to the person she had bumped into and nodded.
"Thanks! Look..I..I'm really sorry." she stuttered a bit, having still been a bit shaken and hurt, and finally saw the woman that had kindly helped her off the ground.
A young woman, mocha brown skin and shoulder length black hair. Though with a strange artificially dyed red bang that covered a major part of her face and right eye, and bright hazel eyes widened with full concern and apology.
"No, no, it's my fault. I was- was just standing around you know." the woman said to Joey, smiling warmly and shrugging her hands.
"No, I should've been paying attention. I, uh, I'm a reporter you see- name's Joey Summerskill. I lost my little cameraman and was trying to find him again cos..look I don't wanna sound rude but I'm in a bit of a hurry." Joey hastily said, eyes scanning around though paid attention to whatever this woman had to say next.
"Oh then you should probably go, look sorry for the trouble. And it's nice to meet ya Joey. I'm Shana, Shana Ham-" the woman, Shana pursed her lips suddenly to hold back whatever she was about to say. Eyes quickly trailing to nothnig in particular nearby, they focused back to Joey and made an airy, apologetic chuckle.
"Sorry, I uh, meant to say I'm Shana Harley." Shan grinned widely, though hadn't outstretched her hand for a traditional hand shake greet. Which was just fine, as behind Shana did Joey catch the sight of Mark, obviously searching for her through the crowd. Once he spotted her as well and met her gaze, his eyes obviously filled with the need to hurry in concern, waved his right hand to signal her over. Joey silented nodded to him, catching Shana's curious attention to turn around. For a brief moment, Mark seemed rather attracted to Shana, as he had smiled widely with the slightest pink tingle in his cheeks to be seen.
Shana then turned back her attention to Joey, making a clear pathway for Joey to go through and gestured for her to go on ahead.
"Oh, thank you Shana. Really." Joey repeated, as if 'thank you' had been the only thing spoken to one another throughout the entire conversation. Though Shana hadn't responded as she simply nodded, with Joey kindly walking past to meet up with Mark and start up with their story of the mysterious arson attack. Apparently, from the witness Mark had briefly spoken to while turning back to find Joey, it just seemed so random to occur, the neighbors who had frantically dialed 911 at somwhwere between 3 to 4 AM hadn't heard or seen a thing. This was a bad street anyways, one of those vile parts of town that many years ago was famous for bloody showdown between two drug ganglords, the casualties high in both gang members and the unfortune innocent by-passers that had tried to escape. And since then, though the news was still and errie silent, ganglords were rumored to be lurking about sometimes.
'Like some pathetic ghost story.' Shana bitterly thought to herself, having lived on this street at a young age and then having returned to it recently for what had been planned for only a two months' stay. She was a typical, city girl turned rather into something of a made biker-girl. Though not quite part of any gang, she travelled with whatever group was willing to take her along the ride. Her bike was the only true, considerable home for her. Most pitstops barely were more than a day or two, on an occassion staying for a week. And very rarely for a month. Though this was her hometown, she had been born in the hospital that was torn down eight years ago after going bankrupt, and lived in these streets for roughly six years or so. But after the unfortunate and sudden event of her father walking out of her and her mother's life, her mother had nearly entered foreclosure after being unable to afford to pay the taxes. So, the house was left abandoned until now, a year ago, had Shana returned to it after her mother's sudden death/possible suicide from overdose on pills.
Though the house was more of a mess than she had recalled in her younger years, the street themselves hadn't changed much. From Shana's own point of view, she had never once ever encountered any sort of drug lord. There had never been any heard of stories, never any concerns or murders. The only honest flaw about 36th Street, was it horribly filthy. Stupidly filthy, not a meathouse of murder or some kind of sin city. She sighed, knowing people nowadays had a habit of assuming by the looks of something before even knowing.
Looking at the charred remains of the building, in which by then the police seemed to find their cue to come on like the cover-up heroes to a crime show, backing the crowd away, did Shana find it strange of the conincidence.
It had been nearly two o'clock AM when she went to the very house itself, or something of what she had at least thought in its appearance (Here she is criticiszing those who would judge the streets she had grown up, yet foolishly makes remarks about a building. She groaned, realizing how much of a hypocrite she just appeared as now in her thoughts.) seemed like an old, rundown pawn shop.
In which she had found herself buying a charming puzzle box, painted in gold and bronze, with ancient patterns and seemed seemingly worn down and old. Though the shine to it was what gave off it's honest charm, though from the very moment Shana had grasped it within her hands there was something...off.
She couldn't exactly describe it, since it was rather just an inner feeling from the inside. As she had walked home the night before, she had assured to herself in relief that she was simply still uneasy about the pawn shop itself. Yet, still, there were a couple of strange matters to it thst seemed to just suddenly occurr at her apartment (the very same one from her childhood) that had never happened before. Such as how when she had placed it delicately on her coffee table nearby the television, it seemed to suddenly not work as properly, the screen fuzzing out until she took the box away. As if some sort of a strange magnet that seemed to have a habit of causing mishabs with technology.
Just holding it alone, in her hands and kept tightly in her leather jacket pocket as she had rushed him during that cold, brisky night before, did there seem something of the supernatural. Though Shana didn't honestly give a care for any sort of ghost or demon in existence, just the movies were hilarious to laugh at with their nonsense gore feasts, and the passed down ghost stories something to make her spine chill when in boredom.
Yet this Box seemed to make a sudden exception. To the very touch of it, it felt as though there were a sudden heavy beat to it, a slightest tingling vibration to it's touch. A sudden chill that spread goosepimples about her body, almost leaving her with the feeling as though there were something...something alive inside, ready and waiting to burst out of the little, seemingly harmless Box.
And, in a deep thought of worry to Shana, she suddenly wondered if that Box was perhaps the very reason why it burned down in the first place. What if-
"And this is Joey Summerskill reporting to you live from, Channel 8. If you have any information as to this mysterious arson case, please, we insist for you to contact our station immediately."
Mark had made a small hand gesture, a slightly careless wave, signalling at to that the camera was cut and that Joey could relaxen from the bright 'reporter's smile' she would put on in catching attention.
Normally, most cameramen would say something of a phrase "That's a wrap" or perhaps even the one sued by cameramen making movies that when the directors would announce "Aaand cut". But in this case for Mark and Joey, it had been less than two weeks or so when the statin had re-hired somone to make as Joey's permanent cameraman. But she herself was still in mourning over Doc. Therefore, Joey had kindly but strongly requested one time and one time only for the rest of all their boradcasts together to Mark something special, in which the kid had promised to take to heart.
"Mark...you, I don't want to sound off as rude or anything but...but could you do me a favor and please don't say "That's a wrap"." she had softly requested, face hidden in a mask of something all chirpy in a morning mood, since this was the first time they were about to broadcast together, and neutral so he wouldn't get curious as to why she asked with a face of anger or upset.
But there must've been a cracked somewhere, perhaps she was pulling off too much of a grin, or maybe her eyes were watering, Hell, maybe there was gossip amongst the station over the surprise of Doc's "murder" being one of many, with being a part of the tragic group of bodies never found.
Whatever the case was, the over-excited face of Mark to start off the job had faded into complete sympathy as in a low, hoarse voice did he simply reply:
"It's what the last camerman- your friend- said, wasn't it?"
Fighting tears with as much effort as possible then, Joey had nodded slowly.
Since then, Mark had deeply respect her request. They still otherwise had a chemistry of a wonderful friendship, something in a different approach. Rather unique from the friendship Joey had shared with Doc, considering for one idea that this time it was now Joey that was the older friend. Not that she was necessarily old, just...it was one difference she could point out.
"Ugh, thank God. Mark, boy do I need a nap." Joey groaned, announcing as she rubbed her tired eyes that had been shone through many times by the strangely blazing sun of today, wide and bright without any sign of mercy on the tired reporter.
Mark seemed to understand, recently indeed as Joey had told him she hadn't beeen getting much sleep. He protested and insisted she see a doctor, but would always refuse and insisted she was fine. Mark sighed, tempted to roll his eyes. It was all too typical that Joey would refuse. She was...strong willed. Well, an excuse from what the true word Mark wanted to think but not sound obnoxious about his friend, which really Joey was honestly stubborn.
"I feel ya Joey. Though you know you haven't seen the last of Ryan unfortunately." he informed, in which Joey nodded in agreement before yawning.
"Yeah. That guy must have some permanent pole up his ass, or must play darts with me as the target board constantly behind my back to hate me this much." Joey shrugged, though she was actually being honest and hadn't meant for it to be a joke.
Though Mark must've figured it was, though as he opened his mouth to chuckle, instead came a smooth, feminie laughter. Turning over, the two caught sight of Shana, who had somehow made her past through the rowdy crowd and cops. The young woman stepped through to where they were, flushing a bit for appearing as though she had come through at an unexpect and inappropriate moment.
"Sorry, am I interrupting anything?" Shana's voice chimed, as Mark and Joey exchanged a rather surprised glance, with Mark's eyes slightly bluged wide while Joey's mouth was left opened a bitm unsure of what to say before slowing turning over and answering.
"N- No. Not at all. Can I help you Miss...Harley?" Joey asked, pausing for a few moments to recall the name. 'Harley. Shana Harley. Hm..gotta remember that one.' the reporter reminded herself.
"Um, yeah. I was sorta, well taking up to your offer. Well, request about the whole arson mytery. Like, if we knew anything.." Shana trailed off, tunring over behind to look around and see if anyone had noticed she had slipped past. Though there were no familiar facesthrough the crowd that would've snitched her out, nor had the cops even noticed.
Mark, who's eyes had already bulged about before and had even before that seemed to have found her rather attractive, just simply had his eyes plain widened like some kind of a bug. In the kind of surprise disbelief as though Shana had happily declared she committed murder.
"Oh! Sorry! I mean, well I don't know who's behind this. And it wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking!" Shana suddenly, chuckling a bit as she blurted that out fastly, raising her hands in a manner for Mark to obviously chill. The young cameraman relaxened, and grinned, walking downward to greet her as he outstretched his hand for a shake.
"Hi there. I'm Mark White. Joey's- er, you've met Joey here, right?" Mark turned over to Joey, before back to Shana who nodded.
"Yes I did. I've met Joey, and it's a pleasure to meet you Mark. I'm Shana Harley." she replied somewhat casually, and relaxed. Though for Joey, it almost seemed as though Shana were on tense guard duty, for the obvious reason that she could be thrown out or in trouble for having cross the tape lines and onto the crime scene.
"So, Joey. You know Shana?" Mark asked after a quick awkward pause had set in between the three as Joey shook her head.
"No. I bumped into Shana here on accident when I lost you in the crowd." the reporter explained simply, as Mark's mouth made an 'o' shape, saying no more. He's expression on his face was basically meant as 'Gotcha', and with a wink headed over towards his equipment to pack up.
After he left, Shana smiled slightly before turning her attention towards Joey.
"Mark's a nice kid." Joey commented, simply shrugging her shoulders. Joey didn't typically play the role as Matchmaker, nor did she favor it for that matter. But Mark really seemed attracted to her, and he hadn't dated anyone since his high school sweetheart, Karen, died in a car accident three months after he had gotten his reporter job. He seemed ready to go back into the dating world, and this Shana character seemed interesting.
Unfortunately though, with how Joey had handled the sentence, Shana seemed to have figured out what the reporter had started to implied and chuckled.
"I'm sorry I..I'm engaged. Well, sort of.." Shana paused, her tone trailing off rather sadly. Joey wondered what Shana meant, though was rather surprised, judging by the age in Shana's looks, she couldn't honestly but no older than twenty two or twenty three. It was a bit startling, seeing as though nowadays kids couldn't wait to jump the broom, get 'hitched' in another term that Joey found was hilarious. Kids that would turn recently eighteen would run off with their boyfriend or girlfriend and go get married. It was crazy. Joey herself, as repeated was young, but wanted to wait just about another year or so before officially feeling ready to settle despite being already mature enough to look into the ideas of a serious relationship, marriage, kids, etc. The things her mother had always hoped for and was constantly excited for, such as one time when she had brought over Nate (Another shithead of a boyfriend in the episodes of 'Joey's Shithead Boyfriends' who barely lasted three weeks.) her mother had been unable but to blurt out excitedly in question as to whether or not Joey was pregnant.
"Joey?" Shana's voice rang curiously, waving her hand and pouting her lip. Joey blinked her eyes once before suddenly snapping back, shaking her head and turning over her attention to Shana.
"Like I was saying, you said you wanted answers or something in any form of involvement that could be all helpful and stuff. Well, would even crazy shit count?" the city girl asked, brushing away her red bang from her other hazel eye. It was a bit of a wonder why Shana wanted to hide one of her lovely eyes that had such a nice color, and for that manner better yet, as to why she dyed her bang such a bright color.
"Depends on what exactly you mean by crazy shit, Shana." Joey said slowly and suspicious, a bit concerned as to what Shana meant.
"You mind heading over to my apartment for a quick visit? I can make ya lunch or somethin'. It's not anything fancy or whatever, and look I know we just meet but, I honestly think this is something you're gonna like to hear." Shana offered, stuttering a bit with her words quickly. Joey seemed to take it all in quickly, well aware and signalled her to continue with her sentence.
"I'm not busy, and besides, I could use any sort of excuse to escape the wrath of the Wicked Bitch- Witch of the West...excuse me, my boss Ryan. Is this something interesting?" Joey inquired, now fully interested. Arching one eyebrow high, while Shana on the other hand made a slight, mischievious smile.
"Oh boy is it some sight to show." was the response with an eager tone.
Some sight to show...oh shit. Might be trouble? Honestly, this was easier and more fun for me to write. Joey and Shana are such an interesting friendship, similar to Joey's friendship to Terri but different. Shana has a way different personality, it has suc a fun spark with Joey's personality. I gurantee I won't be the only one who cries when...well, you'll see. ;)