Police Chief Randy Jamal Lewis sat back in his swivel chair and smoked on his 'Black and Mild' brand cigarette. He cleared his throat lightly and looked at the man sitting across from him. Phillip Rafferty was by no means a physically imposing man, even less to a man like Chief Lewis.
Lewis was about 6 ft. 2, an aging yet still athletic figure with salt and pepper hair that reached just below his neck. His face was slightly wrinkled, with small wise eyes that squinted behind his glasses. At hearing Rafferty's offer, his hands were almost shaking as he thought about the money he was about to get off this deal.
He turned to the picture on his desk. A petite figured girl with honey colored hair and eyes that were exactly like his plus a slightly pointed nose. She was not a conventional beauty, but to him she was the most beautiful thing in the world. His daughter, his little girl. This deal would mean she'd be able to go to an Ivy league college instead of the piece of shit community college he was going to send her too.
"Do we have a deal?" Rafferty asked, bored with this inferior human who thought he was somehow smarter than everybody around him. Rafferty knew that he himself was a cocky individual, but when he saw it in others around him he was more repulsed that he was impressed.
"You have to promise to keep my name out of this," Lewis said, blowing out smoke. Rafferty waved it away, now a little aggravate. He'd love nothing more than to just jump across this insignificant mortal's desk and snap his neck like a twig.
"Your name will not be in this. If nothing else I can assure you that." Rafferty looked outside of the window that was only a few ft. away from him. Out there, people thought Chief Lewis was the hope of Smallville. If only they knew that he was practically selling their children.
"And what about the newborns?" Lewis asked, concerned. "What will become of them? You have to promise me you won't hurt them. If you do, I'll kill you myself."
Rafferty glared across the desk. "Listen, I understand your concern, really I do. But the next time you threaten me, I'll kill you. You really don't understand what's going on, do you?"
Lewis shrugged. He was far from terrified at this little man sitting across from him. "Enlighten me, Mr. Rafferty."
"You don't understand my kind of power," Rafferty started, "You don't understand that I can kill you at any time. I don't need to come here. With our without your help this is going to happen. I'm only doing it this way because it saves me a bit more trouble and you're going to be greatly financed for this."
"This is my goddamn town!" Lewis hollered, bringing his fist down in to his desk. The pictured frame bounced up and and off the desk. It flipped in mid air and headed towards the ground. Phillip reached out and grabbed it with his lightning quick reflexes.
Lewis's eyes widened, "Holy shit!"
Phillip smiled and ran a finger across the frame. "Who is this beautiful young lady?"
"How the hell did you do that?"
Phillip appeared behind him.
"What the-?" Lewis dove out of his desk, terrified. "What the fuck are you? Some sort of meteor freak? Get away from me!"
Rafferty approached him slowly. He easily lifted the man and shoved him against the wall.
"Oh, shit! You sonfabitch! I swear I'll..."
"Do what?" Rafferty grabbed Lewis in a choke hold and squeezed lightly. Lewis grabbed at his attacker's hands and desperately tried to force them off his neck. Someone knocked on the locked door. It was his secretary Mya.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Lewis?" She asked, concerned. He was turning red and beginning to gurgle.
"One word and you're dead." Phillip said, sliding his finger across Lewis's neck in a threatening gesture. Lewis nodded, eyes wide with shock. "Tell her you're ok." Rafferty ordered. He released Lewis. Lewis breathed hard, desperately trying to regain his breath.
Mya knocked at the door. "Are you o.k., sir?"
Lewis bended over and coughed rapidly. He straightened up, "Yes, Mya, I'm ok."
"Why are you breathing so hard?" Mya asked.
"I was just jogging around the office." He lied.
"Is Mr. Rafferty still in there with you?"
Lewis turned to Phillip with a questioning look in his eyes. Rafferty shook his head. Lewis turned towards the door. "No, he left hours ago."
"Alright," Mya said. She was about to leave then turned back, "I'm going to Popeye's to get something to eat. You want some chicken and biscuits?"
"Nah," Lewis said, "I just had lunch."
"Ok?" She said weirdly. He usually would never have said no to some southern spicy chicken and the delicious buttermilk cookies. "I'll be back in an hour!" She called towards him.
"Alright." He said. When they were sure she was gone, Rafferty glared at Lewis and shoved him to the ground.
"What's it going to be?" He asked, standing over the man. He grabbed the frame of the little girl off the desk and held it in his hands. He smiled. "Either you take the deal and all goes well…." His face turned in to a scowl, "Or I kill the ugly little bitch in this picture."
"You sonfa…" Lewis stopped as Rafferty put a foot on his neck and stepped forward lightly. His face turned red and he desperately tried to push the smaller man's foot off. "OK! OK!" He hollered. Rafferty smiled down and pulled Lewis up. Lewis had his hands on his knees breathing hard. Rafferty walked towards the door and opened it.
"Bye, friend." He said, and zipped away.
She was watching him, 24/7. It almost made Clark uncomfortable even to be around her. There was a lot of stress going on in his life, and he really couldn't deal with it. Especially with Chloe missing, everything just seemed so messed up. He just wanted to scream or smash something, but he knew if he got angry the repercussions would be terrifying.
He and Bart had been looking for anybody who knew anything about Phillip Rafferty. After searching her memory desperately, Donna had remembered somebody, a Steven Jurevicius who lived in Gotham. She remembered his address, telling them that he and Rafferty had been close friends and they had on quite a few occasions been to the Jurevicius house. A couple of minutes later, Clark and Bart were in Gotham.
Not wanting to be caught in speed mode, when they were in the general vicinity of Jurevicius's house they started walking at a normal pace. What Clark saw almost disgusted him. It was a slum. There were beggars all around them and Clark gave a couple of dollars to a rail thin teen with ripped jeans and a Grateful Dead T-Shirt who looked like he could use a few extra meals.
Clark was so caught up with all the thing around him that he almost got hit by a truck that said WAYNE ENTERPRISES on the side. The driver, a bearded Israeli looking man flipped Clark the bird and hollered, "Watch where you're going you piece of shit kids!"
Bart rolled his eyes, "The hospitality of Gotham city is unparallel by any other city in the world."
"Ain't that the truth." Clark said and they continued on.
"Hey, Bart!" A girl stepped out in front of them. She was about 11 or 12, maybe 3 years younger than Bart.
Bart's eyes lit up, "Mia!" He said and they hugged. Clark watched the embrace from afar. Bart drew back, "How've you been?"
"So, so." She said, shrugging.
"How's business?" He joked.
She rolled her eyes. Clark cleared his throat.
"Oh, yeah," Bart said, he gestured to Mia, "Clark Kent, meet Mia Dearden."
Clark smiled at her. "Hi." They shook hands.
"Mia!" Called a man standing a couple of yards away wearing Capri pants and a polo shirt, "What the hell are you doing!"
Mia shrugged. "Well, guys, I gotta get going." She waved at Bart. "See you later Bartie."
They hugged again and she ran towards the man.
"Who's that, her dad?" Asked Clark.
Bart was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, "No, that's her pimp." He walked ahead.
Clark's eyes widened in recognition. Wow, he mouthed to himself and followed his friend. He was about to speak, but Bart halted him with, "I don't want to talk about that. That's Mia's business and Mia's business alone. Please respect that, will you?"
Clark nodded. "Yeah, sure."
They walked in silence for a little while.
"Where are we?" Bart asked after about 10 minutes of walking.
Clark reached in to his jeans jacket pocket and retrieved the piece of paper Donna had written down with Jurevicius's name and address on it. Clark looked up at some street signs, but he didn't see anything that was on the paper. He looked around and saw a short, chubby black teenager wearing a Phat Farm dress shirt with Sean John Jeans and all white sneakers.
"Hey, do you happen to know where Turban street is?"
"Who are you?" The teen glared insolently at the two white boys accosting him and his neighborhood.
"Look, we're not looking for any problems, man." Bart said. "We were just wondering if you knew where this street was."
"I might." The teen said, holding out his hand expectantly.
Bart rolled his eyes and muttered something about Gotham City and it's inhabitants. He pulled out his wallet and slipped out a ten dollar bill. The teen held the bill up to the light and snapped it a few times to check it authenticity. Then he smiled. "Now that's my kind of guy." He clapped Bart on the back and started giving them directions.
Janet entered the room silently. She was now sure Martha was in the bathroom. There was Jonathon, snoring on the bed. She removed the blonde wig she was wearing and the makeup and everything to reveal not only a brunette but a woman who was at least 18 years younger than 'Janet.' She'd need all the blame to be put on the fictional older woman's shoulders. She pushed her hand through Jonathon's hair for a second and he snorted. She smiled, if she'd been a few years younger he might have been the kind of man she'd like to date.
"Oh well." She muttered drawing the knife out of her bag. She raised it over her head and brought it down in an arch over her head with force, with a mute battle cry etched on her face she plunged the knife downwards towards his forehead and closed her eyes.
HEY GUYS, HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN A WHILE. PROBABLY ONLY DIEHARD FANS WILL REMEMBER WHO THE PROSTITUTE WAS IN THE COMICS. IT MIGHT SURPRISE YOU. THANKS IF YOU'RE READING. PLEASE REVIEW!