Late Night (Open)

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    It was in the middle of the night in the city of Gotham, most businesses were closed and the streetlights were shining the pathways between each street and sidewalk. There were still a few cars on the abandoned streets signaling some late-nighters were out either going back to their humble abodes or simply driving to another location. In all of the silent darkness, there was one source of light projecting from the towering headquarters of the Gotham Gazette. No other light-sources were coming from this epicenter of Gotham's media empire so it makes one wonder who was up at this late-hour. However, it is no surprise to many of Gotham's Knapp District that a worker of the Gazette is awake as many journalists/reporters stay after work-hours to do research or writing up on a story. 

The question is; which one of the Gazette's correspondent's are staying over-time?

Within a twelve by twelve office room, a multitude of papers were scattered on a desk. The subject of the papers seemed to be on the start of the construction of the "mysterious" Arkham City project. A variety of notes were scribbled along the documents each underlining specific sentences and terms in red pen. Sitting behind the messy desk was a thin blonde-haired woman, her head tilted downward between her hands with one holding a pen and eyes staring intently at the documents in front of her, studying them to figure out what is going on behind the project itself.

Vicki was struck, trying to figure out what is being planned for the selected sections of Gotham's districts and all the nitty gritty details of the project that is being kept under tight wraps. The stubborn journalist wanted to find out the questions that is being asked but is unanswered and inform the people of Gotham of what is being constructed in their fair city. 

What are the security procedures? How massive of scale will the project actually be? Will there be enough security to keep the inmates in line? Who is supplying the project? Why isn't the city government removing the squatters from the construction areas and the leased buildings?

Questions. Questions. Questions. 

Vicki let out a frustrated sigh, placing her pen back onto the muddled desk. This assignment she tasked herself with has been picking her brain with a two-hundred foot needle and it's been annoying the blonde bombshell like crazy!

"What are you hiding Arkham?" Vicki knows that something fishy is going on behind this development, just no one knows what is it. Everything clearly doesn't make sense at all and there are certain areas where it's all but shady. The outer wall is already being built by an unknown company located in the mid-west who are supplying the project. What Vicki doesn't understand is why the city council is allowing this, there is clear dissent among the multiple citizens of Gotham and yet the council is doing nothing about it. Mayor Sharp she understands. That man is both a coward and corrupted as any other government official of the city, which made the journalist realize. Sharp is too much of a bumbling idiot to propose this idea to the council, no no, someone else is behind this and manipulating him and Vicki will bet her journalist award that it's Arkham. That's why the project is still going underway even when the majority of the population is in disagreement. 

From this realization, Vicki quickly dotted down notes onto the parchment below. After that, Vicki leaned back and stretched out her spine placing her hand over her mouth to catch a yawn. Vicki glanced to the clock hanging on the wall and saw the time; 12:37 a.m. The woman's been here since nine in the morning, over fifteen hours, not strange for Vicki to stay in the building for that long. 

"Thinks it's time for a cup of joe." 

Standing up from her chair, Vicki left the office room and went down the hall to the coffee machine to get herself a cup. The entire building was eerily quiet as Vale was currently the only occupant at the moment. The blonde is used to it as she is used to the long hours so the silence didn't bother her. Once she got to the machine, she grabbed herself a styrofoam cup and poured the amber liquid into the small cylinder. 

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It was always dark in Gotham City. Everyone had always said that and Clark had always thought that the reputation was exaggerated, people had harsh things to say about Metropolis too, back in Smallville, talk about the crime, the rush of the Big City, the lights, and Clark had found the city full of friendly and interesting people, once you got past the rough big city cynical edges. Deep down, in Metropolis, underneath the harsh steel exterior, there was a sweetness to it in the heart of its people. It wasn't something that most people in the city liked to show, but again and again, Clark had seen it, even amongst the harshest and most cynical and broken of city people there was a certain civic pride and a real human desire to really do something wonderful.

That being said, Gotham city was dark. There was something more broken about this town, a certain underscore of corruption and hopelessness that Clark hadn't even seen in Metropolis, The City of Tomorrow, or really just The City in the parlance of most of the world. Metropolis was a city of hopes, of steel, of industry, of promise. Gotham a city of lead and broken dreams. There was something impenetrable about Gotham City's shadows, something about how the buildings were put together, the way that the lead and heavy metals in the paint blocked everything out. The buildings were too close together, they loomed and were covered with a mess of gothic industrial flourishes that made the city feel too claustrophobic. Perhaps the cold winds of the bay drove people underground more, perhaps the nature of its corruption had just made it a city beyond hope, even beyond the cynicism that seemed to hit the deepest Metropolitan soul.


It was hard for Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter to say, but it's something he'd noticed as he worked here as a correspondent for the Planet, focusing on his little "Pet Project." Perry had given him a bit of time to work on it, and frankly it hadn't slowed him down for stories. The human interest pieces and the thing with the police shooting had made enough money. Plus there was the "back stories" that Clark had forward pushed. Plus it wasn't that far from Metropolis, he'd been able to get back and forth enough times. Besides, the expansion of LexCorp Gotham and Lex Luthor's new business arrangements in the city had made it Metropolis City News as well. Lex Luthor WAS Metropolis, even with the romance and glamour of the Other Guy. Where Lex Luthor went, Metropolis followed, that was a truism. It wasn't hard to sell the idea to Perry White, frankly, especially when Clark said he'd pay his own travel fare to get here, not that it was very expensive to get back and forth from Gotham, Not for Clark anyway. 

Clark had been warned repeatedly not to try to ruffle feathers in Gotham, not to shake too many trees. A few people in town had already suggested he might consider leaving, although Clark tended not to intimidate easily. It was hard to tell, since he never really wore anything fitted, his clothes were always just slightly too big, his posture just slightly off, his hair just slightly ruffled, but even so, he had that fine Kansas Farmboy build and the hard head of a midwesterner. Besides, Gotham was more frustrating than intimidating. He wasn't used to being so blinded, so hemmed in, so lost, and so stymied so often by so many people. There were good people in Gotham City, Clark Kent knew it, he'd found people here who had lost the will to hope. A people who had learned that hope was just another word for lie, and trust another word for betrayal. 

Clark hadn't paid many of the warnings much heed, except for one, really. He HAD been warned very particularly by one man. . . a myth to most. The message had been clearly received: "Superman stays out of MY city." Well, the message had been very clear, and so far "He" had stayed out of Gotham city. Luckily that warning hadn't been extended towards Clark Kent: Daily Planet Reporter. He'd already had a few interviews out of the way, one with the Commissioner, one with the Administrator, and the paperwork from City Hall had been confusing, incomplete . . . the story was hitting a dead end and fast, and Clark needed to collaborate quick. Get a local opinion on everything he'd gotten together. 

That left one name. She said that he could drop by, back when they met during that press conference in Metropolis. . . what was it again? The LexGrant prize for STAR Labs? Or was it the Metropham thing? Either way, they'd met in passing during a few conferences, and it was about time to see if Vicky Vale actually meant what she said about coming by to talk. If Clark knew anything, she was likely working on the same puzzle. Trying to figure out the whole confusing mess of the Arkham City project. 

Clark walked along the streets of Gotham, reaching into his pocket to dial the number, saved back from one of the old press conferences. G. . . G. . . G. . . Gotham Gazette: Vicky Vale. He'd organized the numbers by newspaper, made it easier to remember, although Clark hadn't had a lot of issues with that in the past. The phone rang once, then twice. 

"Vicky? Hey. It's Clark. I know it's late and I'm sorry to call, but I'm in Gotham, and I've hit a bit of a dead end while working on a story. . . the Arkham City project? I've had a chance to talk with Jeremiah Arkham and Commissioner Gordon, got some papers from City Hall and . . . some more from a confidential informant. Things aren't adding up and I need another perspective on things. I don't suppose you want to meet up? Maybe we can help each-other out." 

Cold chill in the Gotham City streets, not that Clark Kent ever really felt it. He straightened his glasses as he stood underneath the streetlight in the fog. Nearby he heard the heart-beat, hidden in the shadows in the alley. Clark was being followed again. They were being sneaky. They'd been sneaky for a while. He'd thought he'd lost them when he left City Hall, took a few side streets, underground in the subway, then once out of sight he'd taken a few liberties to get away, moved to higher ground. Whoever was keeping an eye on him seemed to be able to get to the rooftops. He'd have to be careful about showing off. So far they were just watching, didn't sound like they were using any weapons. Surprisingly no night vision glasses or anything technological, there wasn't the tell-tale sounds that came from that sort of device. Training, old fashioned training. Clark kept his body language casual, turning up his collar against the wind and tightening his scarf a bit, holding onto the briefcase of materials he'd gotten from City Hall.