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[b][i]Brooklyn, New York
Cony Island Boardwalk
5:45 PM[/i][/b]
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[indent][indent]Jessica flicked her lighter on and off. It was a tick that she did when she was anxious, agitated, or waiting like she was now. She cupped the flame with her free hand to shield it from the sea breeze that habituated the boardwalk. Sitting there with the fur lined collar of her trucker jacket pulled up against her neck making it look like a priest’s habit, Jessica couldn't help but feel like she belonged in a Tarkovsky film. Unfortunately, the mere mention of Tarkovsky triggered a primordial gag reflex in her. She dated a film critic once and they collectively decided to do a marathon viewing of the Russian's work while slamming down several bottles of $15 Georgian vodka; she vomited for a week after that. Now the mere mention of Avant Garde Slavic filmmakers made her stomach do somersaults.

"Stomach disagreeing with you?"

Detective Zoe Kim sat down next to her. A solid streak of grey hair along her left temple made her look older than her mid-thirties. Dressed in all black with a matching leather jacket torn at the left shoulder and patched with duct tape, Zoe looked more like Lou Reed than a cop. But, the way she walked, like she owned the city, like she knew it like the back of her hand could have only been acquired by someone who had walked the beat. 

"Cause you look like you're about to throw up your lunch Jones."

"Shut it Kim," Jessica croaked forcing down a rising current of bile. "it's just a psychological reaction."

"Sure looks like a psychological reaction," Kim replied with a shake of her head. "you mind if I borrow a light?"

Jessica raised the open flame of her lighter to a cigarette that Kim produced from her jacket pocket. There was a slight tremble in Kim's outreached hand that neither of them commented on. Permanent nerve damage that occurred on the pair's first outing. Kim took a bullet for her before she knew about the whole gene altering chemicals deal. The bullet luckily didn't go anywhere lethal, but it did fuck with the nerves in her left arm. After that she was shifted up the chain of command where she found detectives spend a lot more time sitting behind a desk than doing actual police work.

"You know," started Kim as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. "this was the first place I saw someone die? I was 13 down at the amusement park and this kid had just won a big stuffed polar bear to impress a girl. It was one of those big bears holding a heart, real sappy shit. Turns out though the girl's boyfriend wasn't moved by the suitor's advances and he drove a knife between the kid's ribs. The bear didn't stay too white after that."

"Love hurts." summarized Jessica with a shrug as she stashed her lighter away.

"Ain't that the truth," replied Kim with a philosopher's solemn nod. "though I suppose I didn't call you here to bitch about my childhood trauma."

"Yeah," replied Jessica. "you usually only do that when you're drunk."

"Haha," Kim answered in a dead monotone. "you know I can always offer this gig to somebody else."

"You'll be hard fucking pressed finding somebody better than me."

Silently conceding to Jessica's point, Kim withdrew a Manila folder from inside her jacket pocket and handed it over without comment.  The first thing Jessica noticed was the word CONFIDENTIAL written in red permanent marker across the width of the folder. The second thing Jessica noticed was that the folder was very light which signaled to her that the case was either very old or very new, and judging by the fresh marker smell she suspected it was the latter. Jessica reached into the folder and in her digging she caught the edge of something smooth which she withdrew from the envelope. 

It was a 4x12 print of a girl standing in front of the library at Bryant park. She was dressed stylishly in the latest trends and with long black hair that fell to about her waist. Young adult in her early twenties, judging by the cut of her clothes came from a wealthy family, and if Jessica had to guess probably Pakistani or Indian. She looked happy, but if she was happy then Jessica wouldn’t have to get involved. 

“Who is she?” asked Jessica as she peered closer at the photo as if some hidden secrets would reveal themselves to her.

“Sahiba Chadha,” Kim stated as she ground the stub of her cigarette out into the bench they were sitting on. “senior at Columbia, studies Sociology, wants to pursue her PhD, and the daughter of the current Commissioner of Cultural Affairs - Mohsin Chadha.”  

“And what’s wrong with her?” 

“She’s been missing for a week now.”

“Are you and the good old boys in blue looking into it?” questioned Jessica.

“No investigation has been opened up, and I should let you know Jones,” answered Kim “this call comes straight from the Mayor’s office.”

Jessica raised a brow. She knew that soon after Kim got promoted the Mayor’s office had reached out to her to perform some consulting, but she hadn’t realized Kim had become the Mayor’s hand in the force. It was something that Jessica could never do, she hated politics with a passion and tried her best to keep a respectable distance from any governmental office.  But Kim had rent to pay like anyone else and Jessica figured it helped having friends in high places.

“What’s the Mayor’s office have to do with this?” Jessica asked as she slotted the photo back into the envelope. 

“Mohsin Chadha is the man that the establishment is grooming to be the next Mayor. A big enough scandal could bring down a mayoral race before it even starts. So, the powers that be want to do everything in their power to solve this problem before the press get their hands on it. So that means no NYPD, and especially no official investigations.”

“Only little old me,” finished Jessica. “I hope the “establishment” knows that I don’t come cheap.” 

“Check the bottom of the bag.” replied Kim who by this point had turned her gaze away from her companion and towards the water.

Jessica reached further down and felt her hands brush up against a small bundle held together by a binder clip. Pulling the bundle out of the envelope revealed it to be a neat collection of hundred-dollar bills, and if Jessica’s quick tally was right, she was looking at about five grand. Jessica nodded approvingly before she stuffed the bundle back into the envelope and out of public eye. It was enough to pay rent and make sure she didn’t go into withdrawal this month.

“You’ll get another five thousand at the completion of the job with room for potential bonuses.” Kim replied still looking at the outgoing tide.

“Is this excursion taxpayer funded?” asked Jessica. 

“That would leave a paper trail.” Kim pointed out and didn’t need to elaborate more than that. 

“Last question,” Jessica asked as she ran her free hand through her hair. “when do I start?”

“You have a Nine A.M meeting with the Commissioner at the Cloisters, his people will be sending a car to pick you up.”  Kim answered, she stood up performing torso rotations to loosen up her back muscles wound up tense from her brooding posture. “And please try to clean up before then? You smell like a walking distillery.”

“F&#@ you too Kim” 

“First impressions are important Jess.” the detective stressed. “I’m putting my own neck on the line vouching for you like this. They had a whole gaggle of spooks lined up to take this gig.”

“Why push me forward as the preferred candidate then?”

“Because,” sighed Kim. “I don’t want some coked-up GI with a license to kill running around my city. I had enough of those dealing with the cleanup of the Mutant Liberation Front and Captain “Let’s start executing people in the street” America. I want somebody with brains even if your too drunk to use them.” 

“That sounded like a compliment Kim.” teased Jessica.

 “I don’t do compliments.” remarked Kim flatly as she turned to walk away. “my dad always said they were for pu%#!!s.”

And on that cheerful note Kim made her exit down the boardwalk. 

“You’re somehow a bigger C&*t than me!” Jessica called after the detective, who simply flipped her off and kept on walking. She watched Kim until she vanished in the distance, her black pallet indiscernible as night quickly approach.

Once she was alone, Jessica quickly reproduced the bundle of cash from the envelope and cradled it in her hands. It was the most money she had seen in once place in a long time. Jessica Jones didn’t get involved in politics… apparently until they started offering to pay her. She was a lot of things worse than a hypocrite, and if hypocrisy kept the lights on, that was good enough for her right now.

She stashed the bundle of bills into her jacket pocket while withdrawing her lighter at the same time. A quick rule that Jessica had found out early into her Investigatory career was whenever somebody handed you something labeled CONFIDENTIAL, you better damn well get rid of the evidence, and the envelope and its contents were no different. She hovered a corner of the envelope over the lighter’s flame watching as the fire slowly began to spread. When the envelope became too hot for her to hold onto, she shoved it down a trashcan, before making her own exit.

As she walked away, Jessica produced a thin black moleskin and a pen. Jessica started writing things down obsessively soon after she awoke from her coma to realign her frayed thoughts. These days, Jessica did almost all of that writing on a note app on her phone that even came with a little mood tracker, but she still insisted on hand recording all her case information. And so, taking a pen to her little notebook, Jessica Jones scrawled out a heading.[/indent][/indent]

[center][b]N E W  C A S E:  T H E   C O M M I S S I O N E R ' S   D A U G H T E R[/b][/center]