Author's Note (9 SEP 2020): A mistake in which a child trafficker called Bubbles by her name has been fixed.
Chapter 18: Vice (Part 2)
The City of Townsville. The Strip. Abandoned Warehouse.
9 FEB (Thursday) 1989. 2204.
A white van with the typical washing-machine logo of an unremarkable laundering business printed on its door pulled up in the back alley of an old building, an old warehouse that had become a haunt for illicit and criminal activities. Four muscular men guarding the back door came forward with shotguns, rifles and machine pistols. A woman in a coat stood between them, a slender pistol in one gloved hand.
The backdoor of the van opened, and out came what appeared to be a gangster of the Lombardi type, pushing out a little girl who had been blindfolded and gagged with her hands tied tightly behind her back. Her frightened whimpers were muffled by the gag and the ball of rags in her mouth.
Felipe Hernandez came out from the cab of the van.
"Katerina, my friend!" the tattooed Mexican greeted the woman with open arms and familiarity. "We meet again!"
The woman raised her pistol instead, cocking it, and so did her armed guards. Felipe, however, didn't look surprised.
"Fancy for you to show up here, Enrique!" the woman screeched, the paranoia in her voice was not a mystery, unlike herself. "You're in the wrong block, 'friend'. We don't do drugs here – as a business, I mean."
Felipe laughed, and he didn't let down his arms because of the guns pointed at him.
"You know about the USDO, bella chica," Felipe explained. "I sold everything while I can. I've decided to start a new what-you-call-it? Business venture."
The woman looked at the little girl Felipe's accomplice had brought along. When the little girl backed away, the 'Lombardi gangster' seized her by the arm and pushed her forward. Felipe waved a hand at the little girl in a white dress.
"My first product - what do you think?" Felipe boasted. "I'll be bringing only the finest merchandises from now on - for a price, of course. Something tells me there's a niche in luxury goods."
The woman seemed distracted by what she saw - perfect skin, perfect cheeks. Well-conditioned hair and a good, healthy physique. It was obvious that the 'product' had been well taken cared off before she had been abducted. She wanted to see more of her. Coming up to the little girl, she ripped off the blindfold. A pair of tearful, beautiful dark brown eyes stared back at her. Those eyes were pretty, almost glowing, even. They were full of character - an instant winner.
"So ah… I'm new to this whole gig. How do we do this?" Felipe asked, looking like he had scored a lottery ticket. "We negotiating here or what?"
The woman returned her pistol to Felipe's forehead again.
"You're damn right we'll negotiate here. We run a tight operation, it's how we've been doing this for years," the woman explained to the Mexican at gunpoint. Her eyes went down to the little girl before coming back up to the Mexican again. "I'll give you five hundred greens for the girl."
Felipe didn't look happy with the woman's proposal. A master of deception, he'd faked his immoral dissatisfaction big time, impossible to tell from the real thing.
"I want two thousand, no less," he said. "C'mon, it wasn't easy getting this kid from the Townsville Aerodrome - and it's my first time doing this. Give a working man a chance to break into this, will you?"
"One thousand, 'working man'," the woman haggled, her pistol still trained on Felipe's forehead - the Mexican didn't seem too bothered by it. "It's not my problem where you got her from."
"One thousand five," Felipe counter-offered calmly.
"One thousand, two hundred - accept my offer now, or accept my bullet," the woman forced the deal. "I'm getting impatient, newbie."
"Fine - man, you drive a hard bargain," Felipe said almost casually, hiding the triumph he felt with the nervous smile and laughter of a defeated man. "You've sure gotten better ever since our drug days."
"Another word out of you and I might put a bullet in your pretty Mexican brain," the woman said crudely before nodding to one of her bodyguards, clearly offended by what he said. The bodyguard slung his shotgun on his shoulder, took out a paper bag from his jacket before pulling out some cash from it. After counting an appropriate amount, he handed the dough over to Felipe roughly before giving him the stare.
"Okay, okay… She's yours," Felipe said before nodding to his own man, the Lombardi-looking gangster. He pushed the little girl forward into the arms of one of the child-traffickers. She struggled against him, but could not break free and run away. "Pleasure doin' business with you. I'll come back with more chickens for you to sell."
With that, Felipe and the gangster - who was actually Detective Jack Wednesday going undercover - got back into their van and drove off, leaving behind the little girl, who was actually Bubbles in disguise, with a GPS tracker sewn into her dress.
"Wow! Where did you learn to talk like that, Mister Hernandez?" Buttercup asked after getting out of cover from behind a stack of boxes.
"Too many years working undercover, that's how," the Mexican, who turned out to be another cop, said. "The line blurs too much sometimes. I envy you, little miss - you know exactly where you stand as one of the good guys - or good girls."
The City of Townsville. The Strip. Backside B2B LLC Office (Child Trafficking Front)
9 FEB (Thursday) 1989. 2235.
After being sold, Bubbles was taken to another vehicle to be transported elsewhere, not that she would know the location as her blindfold was put back on. She was taken deep into The Strip, into the deepest parts of it where the cops would look the other way, and illegal prostitution, trafficking, gambling, and drug dealing and using proliferated.
As one of her cronies drove the van, the woman and one of her bodyguards were all over each other, making out and running their hands over each other. They had struck gold - like predators of the African savannas, they had hunted well. Years of experience in child trafficking had honed their ability to pick out the best pedophile material. 'Anastasia', not that they bothered to learn her name, was a good pick. They hadn't expected much at first when one of their messengers had given them the heads-up about a new player in the business. But now, they were going to earn tens of thousands from a single child. Hundreds of thousands, even. She knew of at least a few rich clients who would be visiting the auctions, one of whom had his own dungeon filled with children who had never seen the light of day for years. 'Anastasia' would be a welcome addition to it.
The road they had taken was like the jaw of a crocodile through The Strip, to avoid suspicion and the rare idealistic detective. It might have lengthened the journey time, but there was no rush - their method had kept them safe for years, with hundreds of kids sold and counting.
When the van finally stopped, Bubbles was led out of it in an unexpectedly gentle manner. The child traffickers didn't want their 'product' to be damaged after all, nor do they want her to panic as she would be harder to control and move.
When Bubbles' blindfold was finally taken off again, she found herself in a bedroom of some sort, with red lighting and a heart-shaped bed, no doubt a twisted satire of love. The smell in the room was horrible and unthinkable, impossible to understand to a little girl. Unknown to Bubbles, she was taking in a noxious fume comprising of cigarette smoke, booze and bodily fluids from every possible human orifice. She finally saw one of her kidnappers clearly for the first time – a woman in her early 30s with an Eastern European look to her. She looked up at her, but the woman simply pushed her, forcing her to sit down on the heart-shaped bed. Bubbles couldn't help but feel filthy upon touching it.
"Look at you, such a beautiful young thing," the woman said in a sultry voice. She wiped Bubbles' tears away as she caressed her cheek. "Don't be afraid. You're going to be loved by everyone you meet. What's your name?"
"Anastasia…" Bubbles lied, but then she remembered her fake last name. "Anastasia Summers. Please don't hurt me…"
"But I won't, and neither will they," the child trafficker boss said. "I'll make sure of it – you're safe with me." It was a convincing lie. Had Bubbles been a normal little girl, however, she would have been none the wiser. The voice and the face were convincing.
"I want my Daddy…" Bubbles cried, and she didn't have to fake it. She was not supposed to use her superpowers, and any number of things could happen to her if she didn't. "Please…"
"Shh… Hush, little puppy," the pedophile appeaser whispered to Bubbles, putting a finger on her lips. "This is how it's like to grow up. Believe me, I know. My advice to you? Try to enjoy it. That's a very good line, by the way. Work on it."
Outside, the rowdy sound of people shouting numbers unnerved Bubbles. Just what was going on out there?
"Ten thousand for the black bitch!" someone outside screamed like a maniac.
"Twelve thousand!" another shouted, pure competition in his voice.
"Five thousand for the redheaded boy!" another man shouted, the lust in his voice not held back at all.
"Sold!" a more authoritative but uncaring voice declared.
One of the woman's bodyguard came in, and for a moment, the voices outside were louder.
"A hundred for that filthy little wench!" another man shouted.
"Going once, going twice…" the authoritative voice called out. The door closed after that.
"We're in luck, Katerina," the man, a guy in a pair of singlets and jeans and boots, said, sounding like he had won a million bucks at the lottery. The truth wasn't as grand or lucrative, but it was as close as he knew to striking the lottery. "He's coming, said he'll give her a try before buying first."
"How much is the rent, Jac?" Katerina asked, "Did you mention the rent?"
"We agreed on a thousand," Jac said. Katerina smiled. Bubbles didn't like the sound of it.
"And this is what you get when you build trust with your customers," Katerina quipped before turning to Bubbles. "You hear that, Anastasia? He really loves you. And now… it's time for you to get prepared."
Katerina loomed over Bubbles, who tried to get away by crawling over the bed. The woman seized her by her legs. Bubbles had wanted badly to use her abilities - she'd wanted to fly off into the night and never come back, but she remembered what Blossom said.
"NO!" Bubbles screamed, her voice high-pitched and shrill, every bit of it authentic as she felt trapped by both her surroundings and her crime-fighting duties. She felt hands seizing her dress, and before she knew it, it was torn away from her.
The City of Townsville. The Strip. Mussel Street.
9 FEB (Thursday) 1989. 2255.
Detective Wednesday was working on his computer when the unthinkable happened. The bubble on his map that indicated Bubbles' location had disappeared. With GPS systems being in its infancy even with the USDO, the computer was struggling to triangulate her exact location when the 'estimated location bubble' had stopped shrinking, jumped around at random before pulling a disappearing act.
"God damn finicky electronics!" the younger detective swore in frustration.
"What's going on?" Buttercup asked when she looked up at Wednesday – she had been making paper boats with the waste paper found at the back of the van. She'd left it up to Blossom to worry about Bubbles.
"The GPS just… stopped! I won't be able to find Bubbles like this!" Detective Wednesday said. His eyes darted between his computer and the radio. Waiting for the GPS to start working again could put Bubbles in hot water - he'd downplayed the threats she could face for the sake of the operation and busting a major child trafficking and pedophilia ring. In truth, by abstaining from the use of her enhanced abilities, she ran the risk of child molestation at least and rape at worst.
Calling on all units to do a block-by-block search of the areas highlighted by the GPS as probable locations of Bubbles could take far too long, alert all criminals within the child trafficking ring of their activities and cause them to flee - at which point, it would be impossible to arrest all or even some of the offenders. Hundreds of children would be lost that way with only a few abandoned by their captors. The child trafficking ring would then remain intact, relocate and start over again. Thousands more children would be kidnapped and sold, and scarred for life.
"But… Bubbles!" Blossom exclaimed. Her mind was previously clouded by anger towards her meek sister, but now there was regret and worry, and wonder as to whether she should have taken her place. "What do we do!?"
Jack Wednesday continued to stare into the screen of his computer, sweat pouring down his face. Despite the front he enacted to show the others, he wasn't a thoughtless and ruthless man. The idea of putting a child in the position to be raped did not sit well with him. Hell, before his promotion to lieutenant and part of the vice squad, it was his duty to prevent that. However, when he rationalized the mathematics - either save one child (whose duty was to enforce the law anyway) or hundreds (whose only duty was to grow up) - it quickly became clear what the best decision was.
The City of Townsville. The Strip. Backside B2B LLC Office (Child Trafficking Front)
9 FEB (Thursday) 1989. 2258.
Bubbles sobbed as she held her new dress closely to her chest, unsure of whether to feel disgusted by it and strip it off or to treasure it just like the previous one. It was loose-fitting, likely to make it easy for removal later. Unlike the previous dress, it was black, which was all the better to hide any filth that might result from what would come next.
Katerina handed Bubbles' white dress to Jac for disposal. He walked out of the room with it nonchalantly.
"I saw your scars just now," Katerina said, referring to the three ugly marks on her arm. Unknown to the child trafficker, it was the result of the fight with the Purple Man, and too little time had passed before it could disappear. "Must be your dad, isn't it?" Bubbles shook her head at the accusation, tears still dripping.
"It's fine, you don't have to tell me. I can promise you that it won't happen again - unless it feels good for you or your next 'daddy'." she went on further. "Looks good on you. Makes you look used. Some men and women like that." Bubbles hated the woman. Selicia, even in her blackest mood, would look like an angel next to her. In trying to put some distance between them, she moved deeper into the heart-shaped bed.
'Blossom, Buttercup… Please hurry up," Bubbles thought as she watched the woman like a wary little kitten.
The City of Townsville. The Strip. Mussel Street.
9 FEB (Thursday) 1989. 2259.
Detective Jack Wednesday's face was on the keyboard of his computer as innumerable fears and worries were wreaking havoc within him. He'd tried everything - rescanning for signals, diagnosing the GPS program, restarting the program, restarting the computer, banging the monitor of his computer and praying silently to whoever would listen from outer space - nothing worked. His past failures returned to haunt him.
In a city as wretched as Townsville, someone like him could only solve seven, maybe eight out of ten of the cases that were handed to him, at least on average - and he was the best in his field, which had its own taboos. His boss got to decide what kind of cases to hand over to him, and he could only try not to think about what had gone unreported, and what cases had been ignored, then closed prematurely when his supposed superiors decided to look the other way.
There was only so much he could do whenever he decided to secretly go rogue, break into the cold cases division and solve a few more cases on the side, burning the midnight oil, usually to roll the dice and either find some tiny skeletons in some obscure backyard, or a few severely mistreated kids whom he couldn't get to in time before they were marked for life.
This operation was supposed to be like a Mecca to him, something to chase away his nightmares and ghosts, perhaps redeem him for his failures, real and imagined.
And it wasn't going very well. He had been left totally in the underworld without a ray of light to follow…
Until Bubbles' 'probable location bubble' came up again.