Clark Kent (
stands_for_hope) wrote2015-06-01 10:49 pm
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Clark and Karen | Continuation Thread
The problem with organized crime was that when a leader fell, all it did was create a power vacuum. Criminals were people as much as anyone else, and amongst them were people who wanted to climb to the top and others that desperately wanted someone to tell them what to do and how to succeed.
With the damage done by the Battle of New York and the 'war' that had been waged between the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the now-unmasked Wilton Fisk, the field had been left ripe for the picking in more than one way and the cream of the crop of the organized crime syndicates had noticed.
Bruno Mannheim didn't even try to play the philanthropist. No, he was there for one reason and one reason only: easy pickings. And that was why it was getting increasingly dangerous out there for the uniformed crime fighters... and their non-uniformed vigilante assistants. Criminals with guns that reminded them more of the kind of weapons the Chitauri had brought with them. Criminals with allies in other towns, alibis in other places. Nasty on all levels.
Which was why Clark came home that night and headed for his laptop instead of his favorite book. It seemed this journalist was going to have some work cut out for him after all here in New York.
With the damage done by the Battle of New York and the 'war' that had been waged between the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the now-unmasked Wilton Fisk, the field had been left ripe for the picking in more than one way and the cream of the crop of the organized crime syndicates had noticed.
Bruno Mannheim didn't even try to play the philanthropist. No, he was there for one reason and one reason only: easy pickings. And that was why it was getting increasingly dangerous out there for the uniformed crime fighters... and their non-uniformed vigilante assistants. Criminals with guns that reminded them more of the kind of weapons the Chitauri had brought with them. Criminals with allies in other towns, alibis in other places. Nasty on all levels.
Which was why Clark came home that night and headed for his laptop instead of his favorite book. It seemed this journalist was going to have some work cut out for him after all here in New York.
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"I love you too," and the words came easily she reached around and rubbed circles into her back.
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She rubbed her hands through his hair as they kissed, and she just relished in being with him. Calming down considerably.
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"I really enjoy kissing you, Clark," she said in a sweet, but sad voice. The concerns of those tenants she told him about still on her mind. Yet, she didn't want it to interrupt things.
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"It'll get done. Do you need me right now?"
And his expression was so earnest. She was his priority.
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Smiling toward him, she patted his arm, and moved to slide out of his lap.
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"I'll finish the article," he said easily enough, "and it won't run until at least tomorrow morning if I can get the Planet to run a story from outside Metropolis."
He'd known the editor there since he was a teenager, and the man knew news when it was emailed to him.
"But it can wait a few minutes. Really."
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He tells her that he'll finish the article later, and she nods, and smiles. "Okay, I mean, I don't want to impose is all," she said warmly.
She resettled into his lap, and leaned against him.
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"So... should I cook or did you want to go out tonight?"
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"I don't have to do anything right now," he told her honestly, "but I wanted to give you something else to talk about."
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"Well, to be honest, I bought the ingredients to make some Thai Peanut sauce for some chicken, and some salad stuff, and some mandarins to put in the salad. How does that sound to you?"
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"Do you remember if I still had some tofu in the 'fridge? Since that might be nice with the peanut sauce too..."
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She leaned down, hands on either side of his head on the couch, so she could kiss his lips.
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"I try not to overdo it with that stuff, but every once in a while it's nice to have the texture."
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"It doesn't bother me to cook it."
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"Good to know," she said warmly.
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