Silvia Stone was a vigilante with only one goal in mind, to give criminals a swift and painful death. As one could imagine, Superman didn't exactly appreciate the bodycount that was mounting. After being thrown into prison, breaking out, and more en...
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The next few days were spent lazying around at home. After her recent run in with the law, Silvia thought it best to keep a low profile at least for a little while. Her apartment was littered with wrappers and empty pizza boxes, and there was a small indent in the couch from where she had been lying for much too long. Unfortunately, she ran out of food quickly and was forced to leave the house in less than a week. The blonde got changed and shuffled out the door with a looming disinterest.
The streets were as cracked and littered as always, the smell of gun smoke clinging to the pavement like the scar to a deep wound. People walked by in large trench coats, concealing their weapons and pockets full of drugs. It was always the same in Southside - a bastion of crime.
Central Metropolis sat clustered on an incline. Once the smells of this particular section of the city were alien to her, and their chaotic fragrance set her on edge. There was no metallic bite of blood lingering in the air, no fragrance of burnt wood from building debris or the constant heady warning that rain was due. The fumes from belching vehicles underpinned everything, hiding the violent scents she was so use to.
The crowds were heavy that day. Silvia found herself wedged in the middle of a few particularly thick groups of workers as she visited the shops; as soon as she exited one group she'd enter another.
Eventually, Silvia had plastic bags hanging off of each arm and they twisted against her skin whenever she moved. Her enhanced durability meant that it wasn't as painful as it should have been, but she could still feel it.
Silvia adjusted her grip on the bags, avoiding swinging them into the people around her as best she could. It was difficult in such a compact area but she somehow managed it. Her blue eyes flicked upward towards another oncoming group of people, instantly regretting it when she saw a familiar face through the chaos.
Clark Kent towered over everyone else, it was difficult to miss him when he was approaching. Despite this, the people around him didn't seem to notice. It was like he was invisible to them, and honestly Silvia could see why. He was a complete loser. Unless he was talking your ear off about an interview she doubted anyone would know he was there.
Silvia, however, did know. She was overly aware of his presence because she dreaded having to speak to him again. The moment his eyes locked with hers she had ducked into the closest building she could find, which happened to be a coin operated laundromat.
The loud noise of tumbling clothes inside of washing machines filled the air, only drowned out by the roar of dryers on the opposite end of the room. There were very few people within, only two middle-aged women were waiting in the provided seats and the remaining four were folding their newly washed clothes.
The blonde girl dropped her bags on a few empty chairs with a large sigh. She arched her back until she felt it crack, then stretched her arms above her head until they did the same. A satisfying relief washed over her that was quickly erased when she heard the laundromat's door open.
