735/A Diamond in the Rough

A Diamond in the Rough
Date of Scene:	01 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Kingpin, Jessica Jones

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Kingpin has posed:
The Diamond Grove Apartments Complex couldn't look less like its namesake if it were actually built from the refuse in the refuse from the mid-1900s ocean trash dumping. Which actually, it is. The city expanded in this direction on the back of its tremendous wastefulness. Nowhere is that more apparent than now.

The buildings are literally crumbling on the outside, though the somewhat cheerful stone facade shows off a much sturdier structure of concrete and stone beneath it. Many of the windows are broken and there are discarded needles outside. Someone has to be paying off the cops to look the other way- or else this is literally the least important building in the city. People could be poorer, right? There are a couple stereotypical hoodlums sitting outside wearing their do rags and white tank tops, cigarettes between their lips. Latino, Black, and White alike. At least poverty isn't racist.

One of the guys, a tall, slender dude with curly black hair shorn close to his scalp and piercing brown eyes is having a conversation with a kid who probably isn't yet eighteen. They hand him a few green bills, he hands them a little packet and then the kid scampers off toward the building.

If anywhere in New York City is in worse shape it's likely no one is living there.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica Jones has chosen the dead of night to scout this particular building. She stands on the roof of the one right across the street, hands in the pocket of her leather jacket and a contemplative scowl on her face. Drug deals among the poorest of the poor aren't really Front Page News. Drug deals happen in shit neighborhoods. She doesn't even have a lot of judgment for the street level dealers involved. Everyone's gotta eat, and if someone's going to be fucking dumb enough to poison themselves that's kind of on them. The problem is, the poisoning tends to filter out to children and the violence to everyone.

That's the problem.

She spends a few moments trying to decide what to do next, but ultimately she's watching Curly to see what he does next. The kid's a runner, a gopher: Curly's next on the chain. And if it's not obvious to her why Karen got stabbed here, or even what she was trying to ascertain about this building other than its need to be possibly //condemned//...

Well. That's why they call it investigation.

Kingpin has posed:
The kid returns after a short while, red haired and brown eyed, to stand not too far from the dealers in question. He has his hands stuffed into pockets and trying to look cool while he looks at the men standing about ten meters away. His eyes dance about furtively, studying everything. One time he looks up... But probably not at Jessica. The entire city is in front of him, after all, and he's clearly done lookout duty as well as being a gopher. Just that kind of expression and hyperawareness.

Curly and Moe are apparently having a discussion and it's starting to get a bit heated. Moe, for the record, is a balding guy in his middle twenties, slightly pudgy but with plenty of muscle. Voices are being raised now.

Moe first. "...Muscling our turf then they get their shit kicked in! This isn't somethin we can just sit back and listen to, a'ight, man? You get respect if you make respect. And we ain't making no respect from nobody. No coin either. Comprendes?"

"Fuck, man. Why you speaking spanish to me? I'm not Latino, fool." Curly responds by rolling his eyes. He gets a chuckle from the actual Latino guy sitting a meter away, puffing on a lucky strike. "I'm just saying we should think before we take shots at them Italian guys, right. Just saying, ever since they started showing their shiny heads around here people've been sizing the place up. Uniforms."

"Those are contractors, stupid. Juarez, why you put up with this idiot?"

The guy with the cigarette looks up, shrugs, and says something too quiet to be heard from a rooftop. Just another night.

Jessica Jones has posed:
The street lingo isn't easy to sort through, but Jessica sits down, takes out a notebook, and scribbles down the important bits. Italians are moving in on the drug dealer's turf. People in uniform-- contractors-- have been sizing up this particular building.

She jots down the name Juarez, linking it to the sole Hispanic guy. It might be worth knowing later, might not.

She takes out her camera. It's fitted with night lenses. She can't use a flash without giving herself away, but the truth is the lights of the city provide plenty for the resolutions she uses. The DSLR is one of her most expensive pieces of equipment, and isn't even always brought with her. Often her cell phone camera will get the job done...but not tonight. She snaps a few photos of the drug gang too, just in case.

This is all a hunch right now. If she didn't have something gnawing at her gut she might have moved on...getting stabbed in this neighborhood, getting a purse grabbed...these events are no stranger than the drug deal she's already observed. Something holds her here though. Instinct. She's learned to trust it.

Kingpin has posed:
The three men are grumbling among themselves but without the shouting it's impossible to make out more of the conversation. Still, Jessica gets great shots. The photos come out perfectly in the somewhat spottty lighting from the old, obviously poorly maintained apartment buildng.

Eventually one of them shoos the kid who bolts toward the back of the building alone, sprinting at a pretty impressive pace. Still, Jessica ges a photo of him as well. A few more people wander in and out, some of them with cash to accept drugs, others just standing around nearby. The three guys in front of the building are obviously a community focal point, for better or worse.

But who is that guy in the black windbreaker over by the edge of the building? Jessie almost misses it, but with the camera's magnified optics and nightvision lens he's half-visible. A tall, white man with a chiseled jaw and neat hair wearing a jacket that is less expensive than his haircut. Most people wouldn't pick him out as odd, but...

Oh, look. Square Jaw has a camera too. Click.

Jessica Jones has posed:
And...bingo.

She's found the interesting person.

Jessica puts her camera away and starts creeping for a new approach. A leap to another building, a dash across the top, a leap again, and another leap. She's trying to silently put herself almost literally directly atop the guy, though she wishes to remain several stories up. She wants to get a good look. Hear any conversations he might have on his cell phone. And, ultimately, to follow him when he finally leaves. He could, of course, just be another PI. And if that's the case, great...they can compare notes.

But he could be Something Else entirely. He's certainly the person here who doesn't fit tonight, and the meat of all her work is spotting That Which Does Not Fit and figuring out how it does.

Kingpin has posed:
Mr. Interesting takes a couple more photos and carefully tucks the camera away. If he wasn't being seen through nightvision lenses by a professional observer he'd probably be invisible. Certainly Larry and Curly don't seem to have noticed anything. Juarez looks up but doesn't say anything for now. He's just staring in the general direction of Jessica and Mr. Interesting both, the ember at the end of his third lucky strike glowing a bright orange when he exhales.

The odd man out shakes his head once and then raises his phone. (Phone. Camera. It's everything in one, including a computer. Technology Is Magic!) Shrugging as he contemplates his photos the man walks away, cool as can be. He belongs, right? Most people can't judge the value of a haircut. Maybe he just works at some pretentious club and has to look nice. Yeah, right.

It's a few blocks before the guy actually getso n the phone. Very cautious. "Look, boss, those guys are pretty nervous. I think I saw them bringing up gats and a couple cases of- yeah, you know. Didn't see dust coming in today. Just the pieces. I got a couple real good photos..." The man laughs then, shaking his head as he stands in the shadows of a building he thinks is unobserved. "Right. Tough nut to crack. Pus I think the one guy has some kind of powers or something. Always real quiet, no piece, acts like he rules the world.

"...Right. Of course. You want me to pull together the boys? ...No? Whatever you say. Just got to take care of this before they get any bigger, one way or another. Can't tear down an apartment full of creeps. They'd probably shoot the contractors. Don't know why they can't tell we're trying to help."

Click. That's the end of the call and then the frowning Square-jawed man shakes his head and starts to walk again. Toward the subway. This time of night not many people are stupid enough to be out and about. Not in Hell's Kitchen.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica furrows her brow. He talks simultaneously like a criminal and some sort of real estate developer. It's true the apartment complex sucks ass, and looks like no kind of place for anyone to live. But the cadence of the conversation is just weird. As is the idea that any legitimate real estate developer would be out taking pictures at night.

She leaps down, hits the street level. Time to start shadowing Mr. Interesting. She pulls up the hood of her hoodie. She wears it not because she gets cold. Her hyper-endurance means that it has to get way below frickin' freezing before she cares. It's because hats, sunglasses, and hoodies are the best disguises there are, the easiest to pull off, and the easiest to discard. Invaluable in her line of work. She might even be able to get in the same subway car without being spotted, and if she plays on her own phone like every other New Yorker then he might dismiss her. It's worth a shot, anyway.

Kingpin has posed:
The man has a rather neutral accent but as Jessica follows him to the subway his destination doesn't lie. He's headed toward Brooklyn. That becomes clear by the time they are in the subway station. Almost alone, except a couple dubious looking people in threadbare clothes. They've long since automated the ticket pickup and whatever security is present must be by another terminal. The other direction, maybe. Maybe no one cares enough to actually show up. It's a mass of graffiti and paper plastered to walls, discarded newspaper- not that anyone reads it- and possibly rat dropping. It's hard to tell.

The man looks up. Slowly. His expression is a thoughtful frown as he scans the platform over. He spits out toward the rails for the subway and buries his pockets to wait.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica Jones plays on her phone. She honest to god starts a little mobile Crossword puzzle. She doesn't even glance at him. There are a lot of people in New York. Maybe some of them are going the same way. She disciplines herself to avoid tensing or flinching.

"Hey buddy, you happen to know a 9-letter Duke Ellington classic?"

It's dangerous, drawing attention to herself this way, but so is allowing him to speculate. She sounds bored. She barely casts him much of a glance. He's just a dude who might be able to help her get through this sticky crossword clue. Nothing to see here but a chick in a hoodie.

Granted, it means she's going to have to get real creative about following him into Brooklyn. Probably, she's going to have to 'lose' him briefly, jump roofs, scan the area, find him again and follow him from the 'high road' again.

Kingpin has posed:
"Nine letters, Duke Ellington? Two words or three? Ah... I know! Try 'Satin Doll'. Or... 'C Jam Blues'." The man squints at the woman standing near him, hands still bulging out hte pockets of his windbreaker. he looks Jessica over frokm head to toe before asking, "We met sometime? You look familiar." Then he shrugs and shakes his head slowly. "Anyway, enjoy your puzzle."

Square jaw even flashes Jessica asmile. It'sa bright, friendly one. Hsi teeth are as perfect as his hair. Someone must have fallen on hard times to be where he is. At least, that's the narrative he'd be giving if he were asked about it. Still, the haircut doesn't really lie. He rocks back and forth on his scuffed up black boots, watching for the next train to come along. That move seems to have allayed his fears for the moment.

The quiet shriek of metal on metal is evident as the train is slowing to pull into the station in front of them. The man iwth the pleasant smile indicates it with his head as he stepsforward toward it.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Huh. Not bad.

Jessica has an appreciation for a dude who can actually work the crossword puzzles. It's something she picked up on stakeouts. She actually does plug it in and save it. She flashes him a return smile, the one she uses for men in the bars when she wants them to buy her a drink, not quite the one she uses when she's ready to get laid. If he remembers her as just a pretty woman doing a crossword, so much the better.

"Thanks," she says, as he even goes so far as to help her onto the train. She flashes him another smile, goes and finds a seat about three rows up from him, and goes back to her puzzle.

Why three rows up? Because if she got behind him, she'd look like she was shadowing him. From three rows up, however, she can still use the reflection of the windows to check and see which stop he gets off on. She'll have to get off one stop over and backtrack, and that could mean losing him for good...but now that they've exchanged words? It's the only way.

Kingpin has posed:
Three rows up is the perfect place. Square jaw leans back in his seat, yawn, and props himself slightly as he does. He's actually a handsome guy, afew years older than Jessica, and he doesn't get a skeevy look when she gives him that prety smile. No, he's interested but any checking out is subtle and polite. And right now he's just watching the ceiling of the subway while he relaxes.

The train hums as he moves along, with only five people within Jessica's immediate vicinity. It's a fairly quiet night in New York City. The trip is going to take a few moments. There are other stops along the way, not that many people are getting on or off.

Soon... Then, subtly as possible, Square-jaw gets up and gets off the train two stops early. Jessica almost misses it, but it's noticeable by his reflection in a window.

Jessica Jones has posed:
It takes all of her discipline not to even look up from her phone. She appreciates non-skeevy. Honestly she's not drunk enough right now to handle skeevy. She was barely drunk enough to handle pretending to flirt. At least he didn't make her skin crawl. Likable guy, really, for some sort of villian. But then...not all of the people who get up to bad things are overtly horrible.

When the next stop comes up she sheds the hoodie and then starts running. She leap-runs back in the direction of the former stop, soaring up to a building and thunking down hard. She pushes the boundary of her three-and-a-half-minute mile to try to catch up for lost time, using the height to try to spot her target again. It's a long shot. But if she fails...well...

She'd at least recognize his face if she came across it again, and that's something.

Kingpin has posed:
Unfortunately, wherever Mr. Nice Smile went he's gone. The city is muggy from the pollution despite the relatively chill weather. There arent many people on the streets. But maybe Jessica ran the wrong direction... Or perhaps hes' better at losing a tail than he looks. It's impossible to say. But for now, at least, the mystery man has disappeared.