Thread: Untitled

Miles Murphy flicked the ashes of his cigar out of his 74 black Cadillac DeVille as he waited at a red light. He was an agent for upcoming artists of New York, at least tonight he was. He had the look for it wearing a wrinkled long sleeve striped dress shirt with a bright yellow tie that smelled strongly of smoke. He wore a faded pair of jeans that had a small rip below the knee of the left side. The back of his car was full of empty McDonalds bags and scratched out lottery tickets. His short dark brown hair looked like he had just woke up and his face didnt look like he had shaved for a couple weeks. Aside from all this he remained still handsome. It was the type of look that the girls wanted to take him home and clean him up but didnt actually. His light brown eyes looked tired, this was the only part of the Irish cop that wasnt an act. He had been undercover for a week now. He was supposed to pick up drugs and girls from the corners. So far he had made about half a dozen arrests, most of them being drug dealers so he decided to try his shot with the girls of the evening. Miles was old school for his young age of only thirty one compared to most police officers. His father, grandfather and great father were all police before him. In fact he entered the force while hes dad was still apart of it. He figured his dad was always proud of that, at least Miles was. All the men in his family were poor Irish immigrants and it was the only thing they could really do. Miles was a bastard, his mother left him to his father after a week of Miles being born and he was raised upon his fathers drunken Irish songs and his tales of the police force. To stereotype most of the crime in New York was due to immigrants. Irish, Russians, Italians, Africans, Hispanic, whatever. Immigration had given the city life. From all the minorities there were just as many of them apart of the force. They had to even things out of course. It was an ongoing battle, a constant cat and mouse catch. You had to do things to eat. Miles could understand that completely however something happened to crime over the years. Drugs, a new breed of criminal were born. In the old days a desperate man would rob someone in an alley to eat for a week. Now you have men attacking women just so they could feed their addiction for an hour then go out and do it over again. Prostitution was morphed into this. Many of them were drug addicts, many of them robbed their clients. Many of them were murdered, many of them spread terrible diseases through the city. It was no longer an underground business but a growing virus plaguing the city. He cruised up to one of the more expensive areas for high ranking girls. Usually it went from corners of overweight women and transvestites to corners with actually nice looking street walkers to escort agencies. This was the nice looking street walker corner. He was an art agent after all, he was supposed to be able to afford the nicer looking girls but not have enough money for the luxury for them to come to him. He looked around, there was about four or five girls that looked like they could be offering their surfaces. He had an eye on one dressed in school girl clothing, he was praying she wasnt in High School or the arrest would end up going no where since she would be under eighteen. He pondered it, it was worth it if he could get a young girl off the street before she ruined her life and after all it could just be a costume. He drove up to her location but not exactly in front of her, she needed to approach him first for there to be a crime. He put his car in neutral and waited patiently.