A week, she had been staking out this stinking, rotting, crumbling into itself old factory for a week. And finally, her waiting and studying had paid off.
What was she doing in the middle of the slummiest, dirtiest, dankest place of the city? Easy, one work: Darkman. Yes, that name was plastered all over the news, and the newspapers. She had even written a piece about him a few months ago, but no one knew if he was real. They all called him a fake, a myth, just a man running around in a suit. Much like the Bigfoot beliefs. So she wanted to find out if it was true or not.
After a stroke of luck, she happened to be at the right place at the right time, something that didn't happen to often to people around here. A mugging had happened, right in front of her, and before she could react a flash of black had plummeted at the criminal. As she watched the flashes, and in what she could make out from them, there was this 'Darkman' right in front of her. She had later followed him after the fight, and returning of the women's purse that had been stolen. All the way to the slums, the nasty, smelly, down right disgusting part of town. Finally stopping at an abandoned, and condemned soap factory. The label in the front read Reyton Soap Factory.
Such a perfect place for a vigilante of the city to set up camp. She had thought to herself the moment she set eyes on it. She shrugged, it was better than the streets at least.
Now, after taking a long time to study his daily schedule, and even the spur of the moment events, she had started to understand him.
He was prone to temper tantrums, and deadly ones at that. They consist of curse words and the destruction of things around him. It was clear to her that if she were to be in his range at one of the times he was in one of these rages, that he would easily rip her in two. So she had decided that if, and when, she finally decided to confront him, it would have to be while he was calm. Or risk getting a serious booboo.
Other than the anger, that seemed to take up at least and hour of his day everyday, he seemed to be working on something. Something scientific. He was making a liquid skin of sorts, it helped create masks that he wore over his disfigured face.
She hadn't gotten a good view of it yet, seeing as it was hard to spy on him and not get caught. So she decided to keep as far away as she could. But it was apparent that he had damage his face, and what seemed like, his hands. She wasn't quite sure on how extent the damage was, but enough that he hid his self away from the outside world. And when he couldn't do that, he wrapped his self with gauze to hide. And, when not wanting to get awkward glances from the people in the streets, he would use the skin he was working on.
Finally, it seemed that the skin wasn't quite finished. It would dissolve after what she had guessed as an hour or so. And so, his nights were full of trying to fix this problem. But, as she had guessed from all of his tantrums, he hadn't quite gotten it right yet.
Today, though, she was finally going to show herself. She was going to finally greet this mysterious and, what she believed, goodhearted man.
Though, to tell the truth, she was having second thoughts. What if he didn't care to much for her disturbing him? And came at her, his mind fogged by the rage that took over whenever he was angry. What would she do? Run? Yeah right, he would easily catch her in his massive arms and easily hug the breath out her lungs. Fight? And what, last two seconds before her head was ripped off? She shook her head, she knew there was no way she could survive an encounter with him. So maybe this wasn't such a good idea?
She shook her head again, shaking the thought of abandoning this idea all together out of her thoughts. No, she had spent way to long on this, and was already to deep into it. She was finally going to meet him, going to get to know the true man. One way or another.
But why was she doing this? For her job? Just to write up an article and put it in the next Sunday paper? No, she wasn't doing it for that. If she wanted to make a killer article, all she had to do was walk into any alley and find a drug dealer. That was easy enough around here. No, she was doing this more for herself, a selfish act it seemed. She had been mystified and awed by him, by all his stories and just by the sheet air that surrounded him.
Not many of his stories were known, seeing as a lot of things happened in this city, and it wasn't easy to pinpoint which were by whom. But there were a few that had some characteristics that seemed to shout Darkman. Things like 'impostor' or 'wasn't acting like his self'. Then there's the 'crushed beyond recognition', or 'a man bounded 10 feet into the air'. Things that a normal person couldn't do, or were not explainable.
She had been able to place certain stories to him. One about a mob boss that used children to pick-pocket and steal that was almost crushed to death. Another about a man that tried to sell a drug and was murdered by a large wood chipper. Then the famous Durant, that mysteriously died, raised from the dead, then died again. It was him, she knew it.
Now here he was, just a flimsy metal wall away from her. She bit her lip, the moment she crossed that thin barrier, she would be in danger. On his turf, one that many had treaded, and few left. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.
(( -le gasp- HUN actually typed up a long post? This RP is based off of Darkman, so if you dun understand anything, contact me and I shall explain ))