2011 07 18 What A Dump

Log Title:
What a dump

Richenda Gray

IC Date:


Brief Log Summary:
Richenda pops into Hell's Kitchen to check out an address and comes upon some aquaintances of Mike.


There is no TS in the log:


-==[ Hell's Kitchen - New York ]==--------

Some people call this area the Lower West Side; some people who want to talk it up call it Clinton. A few particularly unwise types call it West Midtown, but they'd better not do that where anyone can hear. Everyone else calls it Hell's Kitchen.

The congested streets are dominated by flat-faced, boxy buildings, three and four stories tall. Between some of them run alleyways - some wide enough to park a car in, some too narrow to give space for anything but ambushing a passerby. The slow transformation of much of the rest of Manhattan into a playground for the wealthy has met its match in the underworld here, which has a vested interest in keeping Hell's Kitchen and its inhabitants poor and desperate as a cover for its own activities, and in the danger of merely entering the neighborhood. After all - though other cities are better known for them lately, Hell's Kitchen is one of the places where street gangs began.

Once again due to the wind tunnel like effect of the closer placed buildings, a cool breeze runs through the streets. As a result it is not that uncommon to see people wearing jackets outside in Hell's Kitchen. Supposing this was winter. Right now, even with the sun making it's way into memory, the winds are very much welcome for its cooling balm on the overheated skin of the area's residents.

ACs units in windows are likely running on full, drowning out the sounds of those who dare travel in the blistering heat. Cars are parked in what parking areas there are but there is little in traffic on these streets. Just a couple of rough looking guys lingering, leaning against the wall of a now boarded up residential building in their less than impressive low quality attire and yet, this pair that are chatting away felt the need to gloss up their tees with some gold necklaces that run tight along the throat. They don't sport names on the jewelry so for the time being, it's easy to just go with the names 'Biggie' and 'Skinny'.

Not far away, someone's just strolling through the neighborhood… unless you count the fact that she's looking at the building numbers. Chenda Gray seems to have some particular destination in mind, but she's well aware of the danger of looking like she's in a hurry. The kind of scum who frequent the streets of poor neighborhoods like this one consider that a sign of nervousness. Not that she /isn't/ nervous, a little, but she's good at bottling up her feelings away from the outside world.

Right now, she's getting close to the (former?) residence of one Fiona Hannigan, found on the web. Just a look at the place would be enough, honestly. She's aware of Biggie and Skinny, but not acknowledging them. That's just as dangerous as hurrying.

The building that Chenda comes near has indeed seen better days. What bits of finer architectural designs that are still present hint that at one point this could have been a gem many many decades ago, likely not at any point that either of the Hannigan sisters had apartments there. But alas, with the time gone by along with the decline of the living conditions. The boards on the doors and windows is a very good sign of the fall of this building. The blatant gaps in where some of the boards are set up are likely signs of squatters or something of the sort as they fall in a way to accomodate for the thinner of the populace as is. Yay for Skinny, not so much for Biggie.

As Chenda approaches the address, the two men's conversation slows as the larger of the two men starts to eye the dark haired one curiously.

Chenda pauses to look the building over, folding her arms over her chest. In her flare-leg jeans, purple tanktop, and half-fastened gray work shirt, she could pass for a native if it weren't for her skin and accent. "What a gloomy place… Eeyore would get depressed here," she murmurs. "No wonder Mike's so… frugal." Not the word she started to use, but one poor person can respect another, even if he thinks she's one strap shy of a straightjacket.

She's still peripherally aware of Biggie and Skinny, and that Biggie's looking her over. He wouldn't be the first.

As Chenda murmurs, Biggie shifts from the wall of the building, chin tilting upwards towards the girl. "Goin' to save ya some trouble, girl. Whoever ya lookin' for, they ain' livin' ther no more. Ya better get movin'. Ain' tha best place fer a taste like ya ta be hangin' 'round." Skinny shifts to his feet as well, but not contributing to the conversation as he's busy, taking in the surroundings and judging from where his gaze is situated, particularly the parts around Chenda.

Chenda glances up, lifting an eyebrow and looking Biggie up and down with evident disinterest. "So I smell," she ripostes. "Ciao!" And she turns and steps away, taking care not to hurry.

Biggie blinks at the response, looking mildly offended, "So you what?"

Finding some similarities to this and a previous time, Skinny's attention switches over to Chenda's face and then the presented back of the head. Eyes widening, he jabs Biggie's side with his elbow. Giving a bit of an ow, Biggie glances down to Skinny curiously before the smaller of the two, leans in to whisper something into Biggie's ear. It's now time for the larger one's eyes to widen for a few moments before the suprise turns into one of amusement. He glances back to the walking Chenda, as the smaller one steps forward a bit, finding quite a bit of amusement out of something. "You're a friend of Mikey's. Aren't you?" The tone of the question seems more like a statement.

"And?" Chenda glances back over her shoulder with the air of a girl who has no time for anyone with this many brain cells on the injured-reserve list. Of course, it's just more of the act. In her closed fist, she's cooking up a flash-bang, and she's ready to move.

Skinny smiles to the confirmation as he steps forward, the smile although very much indicative of some form of enjoyment, it's not certain as to what. "Why don't you hang out with us for a bit? Catch us up on what our dear friend Mikey's been up to since he left and got all famous and stuff."

"Better idea: Why don't I /not/? Things to see, people to do… strike that, reverse it, thank you. Later!" Chenda tosses a wave over her shoulder and moves off again. That flash-bang's still simmering invisibly in her left hand.

The smile upon Skinny's face fades as his eyes narrow to go along with the expression. Biggie glances over to his companion, giving a bit of a smile. "I don't remember any restrictions involving this, do you?" Skinny shakes his head, smiling once more as the pair start to follow after Chenda. "Oh but we insist. We haven't seen boy'o in MONTHS!" When he gets close enough, Skinny reaches a hand out for Chenda's shoulder.

And Chenda smiles, skips forward a couple steps, and tosses the flash-bang over her shoulder…

*POOF!!!* The noise isn't so bad, but the flash could outdo the cameras of the New York press. "And now you won't see /anything/ for a while," the gypsy girl intones, sidestepping just in case Skinny makes a grab for her. With that, she hurries on her way.

With the flashbang going off, Skinny's hand moves from it's original path to go up to his eyes as he and Biggie let out a synchronized AUGH. Quite possibly music to the ears of any who have run on the bad side of them prior. Too bad it is just Chenda who gets to hear it. As the two stand still, Skinny's recovered enough to unleash a torrent of curses. "^$^ing freak and his ^!*ing freak friends!"

And even more cursing.

Annnnnnd even more cursing.

Wooh that's a lot of cursing.

Chenda doesn't stick around to hear it, though her ears are burning before she's even a block away. And she's a fast runner. "Wow… I'm hearing more than two syllables back there! Those guys are smarter than I thought." But she's not about to go back and tell them so, especially since she plans to be in a whole other district by the time they finish turning the air blue.

It is such a pretty blue.

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