jla_watchtower | In The House That Grant Built

Any number of reasons could have brought you here. A tip, a rumor, an invitation, an order, or maybe your own morbid curiosity. Perhaps you just happen to be in the right place at the right time.

The decrepit two story house stands at the corner of Cedar and Thomas, in a run-down part of town, on a lot that should have been leveled years ago. At one time, it would have been an owner's pride and joy, with an immaculate white picket fence and a wraparound porch. Now weeds rise up to consume it and the paint peels freely. Surprisingly, all the windows appear to be in tact and the steps leading to the front door are sturdy. There should be graffiti on every surface and in every nook and cranny. Neither pen nor paint has disfigured its decaying facade. Nailed to one of the support columns hangs a vacancy sign. Constant exposure to the weather has left it battered and drained of color. A fitting sign for a house that's been forgotten. Or has it? A faint light emanates from within.

The gate rests half way open under the glow of a full moon.

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He's confronted the greatest menaces this planet has faced but when it comes to Perry White he's got nothing. He can still feel the ringing in his ears from the chewing out he received, but that's the price he usually pays when he spends too much time as Superman and not enough as Clark. If he doesn't walk away from this with something solid, he can most likely kiss his job at the Planet goodbye.

He spent the morning doing research on the place and found nothing but speculation and rumors. He even watched the footage from that ridiculous Ghost Hunting show, much to his amusement. They weren't even close to what real ghosts are like. The research left him with little hope of continuing to collect a paycheck.

"Very well. Let's get this over with." With that he approaches the gate and pulls it open gently. The squeeling of the rust as he opens the gate is stunningly loud and he feels a little embarrased once he's gotten it open enough to enter. So much for the stealthy approach. Sometimes he really envies Batman's training.

Despite all the peeling paint, the house before him is fairly similar in architecture to the one he grew up in back on the farm.

No porch light is on to welcome him.

He's not esspecially surprised by the lack of warm welcome. After all, how does a house come to have the reputation of being haunted if it doesn't have plenty of cobwebs and darkness to fit the bill. He approaches the house slowly as to take in the atmosphere. All of this will be fodder for his story later so best to experience all the place has to offer.

Then he smiles a little. At least he's here at the right time of year. Now only if Z has been available to come with him. She'd have loved this.

He probably picks up the heartbeat before one of the shadows near the eves moves. Tim Drake has been casing the place like a professional burglar.

"Inquiring minds Mr. Kent?"

"Geeze. You startled me young man." He turns to look directly at Tim, quickly using his x-ray vision to see through the bushes and confirm it's him.

At that moment, there's the slightest transformation as Clark peeks at Tim over the top of his glasses. His mannerisms shore up and he's suddenly moving like someone who's capable and competent rather than a bumbling reporter.

"You'll need to slow your heartbeat a bit more if you want to get the drop on me." He offers a wry smile, "Don't tell Batman...but it took him a while to perect that trick, too."

The persona drops and he's back to being Clark Kent, "You should be careful, young man. This place is probably not haunted but that doesn't mean it's not dangerous."

Edited 2011-10-27 22:08 (UTC)

The porch light pops on.

Motion sensors? Tim searches for evidence of such devices.

"Works on Connor." he quips while his eyes traverse the building's facade.

The casual tone is a tad forced. It's weird standing in front of him in civies. Surreal even.

There doesn't appear to be any motion sensors.

There's a knock at the door. From the inside.

Edited 2011-10-28 18:52 (UTC)

Eyes go to the door.
Eyes go to Clark....

Eyes go back to the door.

"Ok, I'm opening the door unless you 'see' a reason not to.."

Clark appears to be contemplating something for a second, "OK. I think it's safe."

He lowers his glasses a bit and looks at the door with his X-Ray vision, "Probably better to know what's there than not." Esspecially now that he's got to watch out for the boy as well.

He's not certain, but he's pretty sure Bruce would be ticked if Tim got hurt under his watch...not that there's any reason to worry about that...and, of course, he'd probably also tell him Tim can take better care of himself than Clark can.

"Ok then..."

Reaching into his hoodie, Tim retrieves a nitrile glove. The boy scouts have nothing on the Bats. Slipping the glove on he tentatively grasps the door nob....

..then turns it.

"Tim? I'd feel a whole heck of a lot safer if you'd let me go first. I know there's certainly nothing to worry about but...mind humoring me?" He knows the young man is compentent and capable, but he is the adult here none the less, "Just in case?"

He lets go of the doorknob with as much caution as he first grasped it. It's amazing how much tension a doornob can generate, given the right circumstances.

Stepping lightly away from the door, he to the side seeking shadows as a reflex instinct.

"All yours Mister Kent."

Long standing habit has his eyes check their six and above.

He chuckles and, in his tone, is the slightest hint of trepidition. It's strange, seeing him like this. The 'mask' doesn't come off, even though they both know who he 'really is.' Then again, Tim probably knows better than anyone not to assume which is the mask and which is the man.

Clark steps forward and very hesitantly grabs the knob. He turns it and swings the door wide in one quick gesture, "huh huh. See? Nothing there." He's trembling...actually trembling.

"He...Hello? Uh...anyone there?" He leans his head in the door.

In The House That Grant Built

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