Terra Firma

Jay

I am a walking stereotype.

I shoved my hands in the deep pockets of the hoodie I'd snagged, blinking my eyes in shock and hurt as a woman walking in front of me quickened her steps, glancing over her shoulder once and facing the cold wind like a soldier going into battle, clutching her purse so closely to her side you'd swear she'd get it surgically attached if she had the means. I slowed my pace to show I was friendly, but it was to no avail. Her shoes still echoed off the pavement in that urgent 'get me out of here' way.

And why not? I was a muscular black man, walking around in the dead of night with a slightly turned cap and hoodie strings drawn up tight around my face. But this was to conceal me from any cops that just happened to be lurking around. Not because I was going mug this poor lady. I sighed inwardly, frustrated. I mean, honestly, is this the 21st century or am I just that terrifying?

I got my answer. She crossed to the other side of the street.

I dusted this off my shoulder, however, for after lurking around street corners and alleyways for quite some time (no batman in sight, didn't know if that was a good or bad thing), I'd finally hit paydirt.

Their typical fashion-disaster pleather knee high boots stood out in the dim misted street lamps, accented by ridiculously revealing tanks and skirts showing a diversity of skin tones--from pale as Cosette or Angel or Ivy, to sandy-tan, to as brown as my face. They were loitering around an old brick building, cigarettes hanging depressingly between their fingers and faces slackened and numb, much like the postures of their hips and shoulders. A degrading profession, indeed, and it outwardly showed.

I approached them and they turned, one of the dark-skinned girls smiling. I was used to this from all kinds of women--I took care of myself and usually prided my good looks. But as you know, I would not return the flirting stares.

"Ey buddy boy you here to mug or you here to buy? Cause we got tazers. Ever since the incident..."

"Shelley, shut the hell up, don't talk about it." The punky looking woman who'd said it instantly quieted, placing a comforting hand on a shaking brunette's shoulder. I could tell by the paranoid light in the girl's eyes that it wasn't from the chilly air.

The loud woman placed her hands on her curved hips, "Don't just stand there and look stupid, boy. Whatchu want?"

I frowned, "Listen, sweetie, I don't want your services. I want to talk."

She laughed, holding her belly, "Oh, oh, this boy wants to talk! You hear this girls? He wants to... Oh. Shit. You serious. You gay?"

"Actually, yes."

"Oh, well, we got some fellas if you--"

"Give it a rest, I'm not interested."

What is it with people thinking that's all gay men want? Just because you have a labeled sexuality, doesn't mean you act it out 24/7. In fact, I wasn't that type at all. Just liked to drink and stay at home most of the time.

Their silence relayed the signal of, "go on..." and I cleared my throat.

"I'm investigating... something that's been happening. Any of you ladies hear about 'The Riddle--"

"You mean "Jack the Ripper." A blonde girl interrupted darkly, the girls around her shuddering.

"Jack the Ripper?"

"Yeah, that's what we call him anyways. That creep's taken more of our girls than we can afford, most of the rare ones--the carrot tops, ya know?"

"We know that, but have you seen him, maybe? Seen where he goes, what he does--"

"Listen bub, we don't got time for your chit-chat, we're off duty now anyways. Go drag your hooded ass somewhere else, cause we don't know nothing about nobody."

The brunette in the back now looked up, "He got Mary."

A pulse of excitement and curiousity shocked me through the bones, and I looked straight at her, my eyes begging her to keep going. The other women turned and stared at her, and even the obnoxious one's lips ceased any movement.

"We were walking... down the alley by GPD... just talking. It was pretty dark, but I liked it you know? Because instead of the usual shit smell it smelled like flowers. I could tell Mary liked it too so we were taking our time... We heard the cane but we weren't scared. That smell, you know? Made us want to stick around. 'Sides, the guy looked nice enough, even if he was wearing that ugly suit and smiling all funny. But then Mary made fun of him... and... and..."

The punky girl reached out, stroking her hair and shushing.

"You don't have to continue if you don't want, honey..." The loud girl's voice suddenly softened into something sweet and motherly. These women had souls, that was for sure, no matter how used up their bodies were.

But the girl shoved her friend away, straightening and gathering some sort of inner strength.

"I have to go on. I have to help. For Mary."

I wanted to cry for this woman, her eyes looked so wild and desperate--a woman who's lost her best friend is often more distraught than a woman who's lost a husband.

My eyes widened at what she relayed next:

"His eyes were terrible. Like big black olives, fresh out the can. His teeth were white but the way he had his mouth curled it looked like a shark's mouth. His face was so angry and so twisted... I could only freeze when Mary screamed. His face looked like when you take a washcloth and twist it up to get all the water out. And then the sound... that sound... I'll never forget that awful sound, when he broke her head, and the blood came pouring out. Then he looked like he was gonna hit me, and I was sure I was going to die.. but I smelled the flowers even more and I felt myself get pulled away so fast I was still scared when she set me on the ground."

"Who--"

"The Flower Lady. The Goddess Kali. The mother of all the little ones and the friend of all whores like us. The Clown's Queen. You know. Everybody knows...Poison Ivy."

Ivy

"Honey, honey, I'm not going to hurt you!"

I rubbed my face. What was she screaming about? I placed my hands tenderly on her shoulders, knowing the feeling, but not knowing the cause. This kind of scream was not that of fear, for I rarely knew that kind. This kind was the release kind, the kind you sometimes need for your own soul--to purge yourself, to cleanse and renew. So I stared calmly at her as she finished, gasping for a breath and giving me a look of mild confusion.

I smiled.

"Feels good to be crazy, sometimes. Like being free."

She raised her eyebrows at me.

"Go ahead. Let it all out." I turned my head to the mystery ceiling, screaming. She did the same and we ended it with laughter. Hers was timid and giggly, while I cackled wickedly, a sound that could only be rivaled by my partner.

I looked down at the sheets, disappointed.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Not exactly. I know I can't leave otherwise he'll kill me."

"Who?"

"Two-Face."

I perked instantly, my eyes alighting with anger. I knew, I could feel the burning in them.

"That bastard."

"You know him?"

"Of course I do! He was my old boss."

Her face seemed enlightened, "I knew it! I knew it was Harv--"

"Shhh. Someone's coming."

Jay

"What happened next?"

The girl gulped, "She told me to run. I did. But... not before hearing the gunshot."

Shit.

I thanked them, was sure to tell the brunette her help was extremely valuable, and turned to go back to the hellhouse. What would boss

(quit calling him that you'll end up like one of his goons

you are a goon now, buddy!)

do? Boy, oh boy, we were in deep shit now.

But as I walked off, the loud one spoke.

"She's still alive."

I turned, "...What?"

"One of her flowers got attached to Susan," She gestured to the brunette, now nodding and smiling, "It wilted for a couple of days, but it's back. It's alive."

I blinked, amazed at their insight, "Thanks.. thank you. We'll catch him Susan. I promise."

"Oh we know you will. But I hope the Clown gets him first."

I smiled, amused that they thought I was still a legit cop, "Why's that?"

"So he can cut that stupid boy up into little peices."

I shrugged, not wanting to arise suspicions,

but inwardly I agreed.