February 22, 2014:

Superman and Wonder Woman sit in a car on a stakeout. Yes. They thought it was weird, too.

Little Bohemia — Metropolis

In this area, the city of Metropolis seems to take a breath, and relaxes a bit in this cultural and artistic center. In addition to the University, Little Bohemia is filled with small cafes, housing for the young and hip, trendy shopping areas, and fashionable restaurants and nightclubs for those in their twenties. Small parks pop up almost everywhere here, and the streets are lined with trees to provide both beauty and shade.


NPCs: None


Mood Music: [* ]

Fade In…

This is certainly not something you see everyday. Clark Kent is sitting in the front seat of a car (signed out from the Daily Planet) with a hot over his head and is slouched down in his seat. He can't do this from above because they're underground and because their place is lined with lead. He can't do it with his ears because it's sound proofed, even Superman sound proofed.

So here sits Clark Kent at 2:30 at night, doing things the old fashioned way. Stake out.

"Do you like peanuts?" Clark's face twists regretfully as he offers some over towards Diana.

So. Two of the most powerful — not to mention recognizable — heroes in the world, are sitting in a car leased to the Daily Planet, watching the exits of what, essentially, is an old storm-drain complex that's been converted into some sort of… what? Bunker?

It must be a bunker, if it's designed to be Superman-proof. And if it's Superman-proof… that means it's actually Wonder Woman proof, too.

Someone wants to keep their business to themselves mightly badly.

Dressed in clothes obtained from a thrift store not so far from the Embassy (and didn't that create a stir!), Diana reaches over almost absently to take some of the offered nuts. "Thank you," she replies, watching the exit, head tilting to one side.

It's not so different, really, from certain hunting exercises she's had to endure before now. Except, of course, that the sedan's seats are more comfortable than a hunter's blind.

"Tell me more about just who you believe these people are, and what they are doing?"

Clark sighs and shakes his head. "That's just it, Diana. I wish I knew. Ever since the government lost track of the kryptonite, there seems like this unseen hand that's kind of guiding things just out of my sight." Clark pulls down his glasses and uses his x-ray vision to try and look at the exit once more.

"I'm here because I overheard a group of thugs talking about this place and their boss. It was cagey, and a shot in the dark, but that's more than I've had to go on so far." He looks to her, "And you're here because you're a good friend."

Diana smiles at that. "Well, yes," she concedes, amusement in her voice. Why else would she be sitting here? "Have you considered asking someone like the Black Widow to investigate. I suspect she may be more effective than either of us, in this case." Which is kinda saying something, given that it's Superman and Wonder Woman sat in the car. What can't they do?

Subtlety, apparently.

"So, who is their boss?"

"I really probably should," Clark says with a twist of his face. "But I feel like I should be able to do this on my own. I mean w—." He stops, realizing how dumb they kind of look like. Well, how dumb he looks like anyways.

Clark shakes his head, "I don't know. There's some crime boss here in Metropolis that seems to keep himself secret somehow. I have no idea how."

Diana gestures lightly to the lead-lined bunker. "I believe that's how," she notes mildly. "What I find more interesting is how well he — or she, for all we know — seems to know you, knows how to counter you." And, by extension, her. Though, to be fair, she doesn't have quite the same visual talents he does, nor quite the same range of hearing.

Her head cants a moment, however. She considers what she can do, that he can't. "The only way in I can imagine, short of tearing that door of it's hinges and risking a confrontation that could go very, very badly, is to send in a proxy. If not the Black Widow… then, it will have to be someone else, entirely."

She looks at him now. "I can speak to the animals in the city, you realize." Yep. She's a Princess1. She guestures to the storm drain entrance building. "I've yet to see a place that a determined mouse cannot breach." She lets out a soft chuckle. "Just do not expect a precise report — particularly not from any one single individual."

Clark nods, "Yeah, I think that's precisely how. And the level of preparation. I mean, whoever this is, it's serious." His face twists in consideration at the idea that they could go in and smash smash smash their way in, but he puts it out of his mind. No telling what's behind those doors.

"Mice?" Clark chuckles a bit, "Hey, I'll take help from anyone."

Diana chuckles at that, too. Though she gives a bit of a self-deprecating shrug. "Finding them might be a greater challenge," she admits. She doesn't call animals, after all. Nor does she control them. She can simply speak with them, that's all. Of course, sometimes, that's a fairly significant advantage.

She glances down at her clothing. Jeans, a faded t-shirt and light hoodie beneath a cloth jacket. She doesn't look much the bag lady to go rooting around for mouse holes.

Clark's eyebrows raise, "Roll down your window." Realizing he has access to the window on her side via the controls, he rolls it down for her. And then, abruptly, he puts his entire body almost right over hers as he reaches towards the window and begins to drop peanuts out onto the sidewalk.

Abruptly he pulls back and looks at her, eyes dancing. "Now?"

He smiles excitedly.

"We wait!"

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