Ms. Smith

April 23, 2018:

Sent by General Lane, Ms. Smith gives Mr. Monaghan an offer he cannot refuse. (Emits by Lois Lane)

Tommy's Apartment

It looks like shit.


NPCs: Ms. Smith

Mentions: Lois Lane, Superman


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Tommy Monaghan's apartment isn't exactly in the best of neighborhoods. He has a comfortable view of shit-all and a scenic walk-up of junkies and hookers. But that's where he grew up and that's where he'll stay. The money he makes, when it's good, goes to an account on a little island with a bunch of numbers that Tommy had to write down to not forget. Retirement money. For the beer and the babes, he just dips into petty cash.

Lois coming over isn't exactly the same as that, but he at least picked up a little bit. Other than a couple of old pizza boxes stacked on top of the fridge, the place is almost presentable. He opens the door to let her in, cigarette dangling from his mouth and gestures towards his second hand sofa, "Make yourself at home. Want somethin'? I've got beer and…uh…beer. And water, I guess, if I can find you a glass."


Somewhere in Metropolis, Lois Lane is in heels. Lois Lane being in heels meant that she was going to have to run soon. Which was true. She was running, though this time the heels were in her hand…


Three black sedans were parked around the corner from the apartment in which Tommy Monaghan stayed. A woman, who was dressed like Lois was hours earlier, made contact under the guise of Lois and along with black sunglasses to hide her features.

They looked just enough alike for the person without a keen eye to be fooled, if they were to turn their head twice and not think to look again, she would actually pass. But.. it certainly wasn't Lois. Of course. It was someone else entirely.

"No need." The woman finally spoke, British accent keenly heard, her hands immediately drawing up to show that she was unarmed. It was a slow movement, the way delicate fingers plucked the sunglasses from her face to show that woman, who kind of looks like Lois with the glasses, and now clearly doesn't.

"My apologies for the subterfudge. I'm usually not keen on random chicanery. However, if I were to say that I were of the office of General Lane, he fears that you would not have taken the visit. As obvious, the only way to you is through his daughter. Which I am here about." A pause. That seemed like a mouthful. Better to explain before she gets blown away. "Apologies once again. My name is Ms. Smith."


Tommy Monaghan keeps his cool, because he's used to being jerked around by people. Gangsters pull this kind of bait-and-switch shit all the time. And what's a general but an official gangster for the government? Hell, he was a soldier, an Army hitman in his own right.

Tommy takes a long drag on his cigarette, cocking his head, "General Lane, huh? What's the old Yankee Doodle want with little old me? I got his little girl home safe and sound, last I checked. If she's gotten herself in trouble since she got back in the States, it wasn't with me," he says.


There was a tight little smile in that regard. The man didn't pull punches. She wouldn't be surprised if he had brit in his blood. "May I sit, Mr. Monaghan." It wasn't a question, more or less letting him know what she was doing. He would also know that he was unarmed, and within her purse were just things that a lady would need. After she settles upon the ratted couch with a slight little shift to make herself.. somewhat comfortable, her head bobs in agreement.

"Yes. This is true. Though there is a slight worry that whatever was there in Afghanistan that she found has followed her to Metropolis." Tight smile, faded soon after. "And because of the extraction that you provided, the way you've actually protected her from the night at.." She didn't pull out a sheet of paper, but she does try to think of the club.. "..whatever swill establishment you were in, General Lane of course would like to extend your contract and pay you handsomely for your services. And when I say handsomely, I mean that when your contract ends, you'll be set for life. Moreso than what you are now."


Tommy Monaghan snorts at her asking permission to sit, "It's your dry cleanin' bill, sugar," he says. He goes into his kitchen and gets a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet, pouring one for himself and tossing in a few ice cubes from the freezer. He doesn't offer her one. He figures she's on the clock.

"My contract, huh? Well, Lois didn't exactly pay much, she was more asking in the line of a favor. She's a good egg. Nice legs, too," he says. He blows smoke as he takes his old recliner, "Handsomely sounds nice, but a couple o' things to keep in mind. I live in Gotham, she lives in Metropolis, last I checked. Two, I'm more in the elimination game than the protection racket. And three…I recently took some contact from another government…representative, let's say, about being used in a different capacity. I wouldn't want you public sector types stepping on each other's toes."


Dry cleaning bill or not, while Ms. Smith settles she does have a wrinkle of the nose bit going on, though most could assume that it was a stiff upper lip. "All the more reason why someone like you would be fair fit to protect Ms. Lane."

The woman smiles a touch, finding herself shifting, thinking better of it, then rises from the couch. He drinks, and is right. She is on the clock. IN fact, she didn't want to stay longer than what she has to.

"How she had gotten in touch with you is suspect of course; General Lane does not mind that fact. But the fact that she did let anyone else other than that dastardly Superman escort her back from the trenches is saying a lot." She sniffs, then wipes a bit at her nose. She felt like she was starting to itch. "While you and what you do is less than savory, General Lane would rather it be you than the alien menace that plagues this planet and considers himself God."

A light pace is given, her hands wiping down the front of her suit. "I'm sure General Lane is aware of the contract, else I would not be here and he would have to find other avenues to keep his eldest safe. I'm sure in the meanwhile, your skills and your entire resume would aid in keeping her safe. Maybe without her knowing. Who knows. As I did say earlier, there are threats that may have followed her back from Afghanistan. Take them out before she sees it, however you choose to run it on your free time."

A little secret was told there, the General does NOT like Superman and is willing to roll down in the dirt to make sure he stays away. Granted, Lois hasn't seen him since she's returned, and kept to herself mostly. And that pleased the old coot.


Tommy Monaghan smirks, "Dastardly, huh? Man. I know the guy seems like a stick in the mud - never had the pleasure myself. Maybe Daddy just doesn't like the thought of his little girl getting too close to the big guy. Of course, that's just rumors, as far as I know. Probably nothing to it," he says, in a way that implies otherwise, of course. Not that he actually knows, one way or the other.

"Pro like the old man, I figure he knows how to get a payment to me. He can send the first one through. Handsome you said. Well, I'll take a gander at the figure I get and I'll decide how pretty I think it is. Consider it a down payment," he says.


"Who would?" Ms. Smith asks honestly. The phone was retrieved from the bag as she begins to send off a series of texts, authorizing the payment, confirming the quite possible protection of Lois Lane. "How would that look, a General's Daughter cavorting with the alien species? At least with you, we could put a bullet in your head and call the rest hogwash." There was no smile, it was all spoken matter-of-factly. "That said.." she mumbles, finishing her text.

"General Lane would prefer to keep this in the dark. Consequences would follow. Get close to her.." She begins to walk to the door. "..or not. Keep her alive, blah blah blah. However you lot here in America do it." Her hand waves as she heads towards the door, reluctantly reaching for the handle to twist and turn. Sunglasses were put back on, as she gives a final turn. "Check your account. I'm sure you'll find the downpayment of this current conversation and future endeavors satisfactory."

The door closes behind her, a trail of footsteps were heard, and she was gone from sight.

Goddamned spooks.

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