Within The Urban Jungle

[SimonW]

WITHIN THE URBAN JUNGLE

Chapter 1: City Before The Dawn…

A myriad of looming skyscrapers bathed within the early morning light that cascaded countless shadows upon the concrete ground. The highest rise was the tallest tower within this city. A beacon of grand architecture, High Rise Mountain, a steel structure that would outlast even the bricked up slums would be a testimonial of artistic vision.
One such artist, a Miss Henrietta Delores Suffridge, appreciated it when she first moved into this ensuite apartment complex within the middle of this man made marvel tower merely five years ago.
Awakening to the early dawn of another day within her roomy apartment, she gazed out with eager eyes to the day ahead of her. Though being a trust fund Duchess of supposed distant noble birth, she had settled herself within this city ten years ago freshly out of college with a degree in artistic design, eager to share her vision upon the fashion scene. In the last two years, she had already made herself widely known in the fashion world as a trendsetter and visionary genius. Sure, it took her a lot of hard work and funding from her rich relatives to make her dream a reality but she stuck to it and made a name for herself with her skill and passion for her art. But in truth, despite all the glamour and fame, the now thirty six year old found she craved solitude to herself so she could be inspired daily once more whilst letting her creations speak for themselves.
Smirking ironically to herself before taking a sip of her early morning coffee within her white porcelain mug, Henrietta savoured the aroma before allowing her tastebuds to encapsulate the bitter yet mild sweetness of the freshly roasted blend that started her day refreshingly chipper and blissful in sophisticated eloquence.
Putting her mug full of coffee down upon her marbled kitchenette countertop, Henrietta allowed herself to be drawn to the scenic viewpoint of her room that overlooked the city of Urban Jungle like a black panther surveying the wilderness before it upon a canopy of the vast rainforest.
‘So, what do you have for me today?’ she thoughtfully pondered to herself.

( to be continued… )

 

[Copperfox]

This makes me think of the relatively-old movie "The Devil Wears Prada." Waiting to see if your story ends up dramatic, humorous or both.

 

[SimonW]

This makes me think of the relatively-old movie "The Devil Wears Prada." Waiting to see if your story ends up dramatic, humorous or both.

I had that same thought in the back of my mind. An underrated movie when it came out in my opinion.
Well, you know me. It may end up as both. Have no clue as of yet, though.

( chapter 1, part 2… )

Silhouettes reflecting off the sunlit sky dappled through Henrietta’s eyes, almost blinding her were it not for the window that led out to a balcony and the building opposite across the street offering a shaded protection from the sun’s harsh rays.
Opening her balcony door made of glass, Henrietta effortlessly ventured out into the crisp and cool air before being bombarded by the muted sounds of street life below.
With a small smirk upon her almond rounded face, the fashionista of the city boldly leaned herself upon the sturdy steel beamed bannister with ease. Lounging without fear or worry, her arms draped over the side and felt her white nightgown flow effortlessly around her body whilst staying firmly attached. It was one of her older designs, one she prided over and was happy with. A simple design that was a wrap up motif, akin to what Egyptian White Silk was capable of with a wrapping of crossed mother of pearl satin that flowed out into a simple white cotton dress with an almost see through effect whilst keeping modesty at bay around the bodice with an inner layer of silk for comfort and flexibility in bed. All in all, one of her better all purpose wears that she wore as her own nightgown. There were no straps, the wrap around motif serving as all the support one would need without any worry for restraint.
With this thought of nostalgic designs cycling within her mind, Henrietta let herself relax with thought as she breathed out a sigh of contemplation.


The Urban Jungle seemed restless, the ever constant presence of life within the city in the early morning.
Upon the backdrop of the streets, the side alleys opened up like relentless shadows cascading to escape the sun. The steel and brick mortared buildings beheld the be-speckled dew of early light, the cold air of morning sunshine showing the drops of water upon the sides of these buildings.
Within one such alleyway a presence was felt, but not that of the usual rats that infested this city. A lowly cur of a dog was still sound asleep, the raggedy clothing a small blessing to the homeless man that called the streets his home. He was startled awake as a passing siren of a police car passed by his alley.
Known as just Hobo Ben, this once dignified man in his late fifties maintained his demeanour from his rude awakening. The haggard looking and weary eyes still had a faint spark of a life worth living with a haphazard sheen of experience of witnessing things in his troubled past. The unkempt yet immaculate beard was his main feature of his face, bespeckled white with edges of gray that rose to under his hairline that was covered with a grungy faded green beanie cap. As he slowly crawled from his stack of discarded newspapers he had as a bedding, Hobo Ben clung closely to a ragged overcoat of some military regimental garb, possibly the only keepsake of an identity long since past. It was now a warm comfort to protect against the chilly nights and rain.
As he stood to his feet, Hobo Ben noticed his baggy and patched trousers hanging slightly loosely around his gangly frame. He paid his shaggy appearance no mind, just glancing up and down his alleyway abode to see if anything new was to be scavenged.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 3… )

Upon the other side of Urban Jungle, the police cruiser that bypassed Hobo Ben’s alley haphazardly made it’s way across Boulder Boulevard, crossing from the Great Bridge that led to an outskirts portion of the city.
The police vehicle slowed as it made it’s way across the bridge, coming upon a gritty off shoot down to the Cabal Waterway where some idle police cars were already parked a safe distance from what was obviously an incidental crime scene.
Turning off the engine as they came to a stop, two uniformed officers of the UJCP opened their doors and stepped out into the mud riddled embankment.
Surveying the scene in front of them, Officer Merkley and Officer Stevens were witnessing a crane winch pulling up a drenched car wreckage from the river’s waters halfway, the beige car drenched in seaweed and water.
Chief Detective Gregory Fonda was sighing from a safe distance, the lead inspector upon the scene and did it from behind the already taped off scene of discovery.
“Welcome to the show, boys,” Chief Detective Fonda grunted coarsely with a slight disgruntled tone in his voice.
Officer Merkley and Officer Stevens both gave a small salute in greeting Chief Detective Fonda, their motion causing Detective Gregory to grunt in favourable acknowledgement.
“I know you boys are eager to prove yourselves, but this is strictly guard duty. Understood?” Detective Fonda stated, his undertone holding a note of caution to the two rookie officers.
The two fresh faced officers glanced between themselves before looking back at their chiseled and rugged supervisor and boss before both nodding in the affirmative. They had not forgotten the hijinks from last month that had landed their well intended yet misguided eagerness on the job into being transferred with reprimands and warnings to be more careful in their line of duty.
‘They are running on thin ice and they know it,’ Chief Detective Gregory Fonda acknowledged in his head, watching the two officers with keen insight.
Chief Detective Fonda was convinced he got the point across and turned from the two of them to watch the proceeding of the car being hoisted from the murky waters.

( to be continued… )

 

[Copperfox]

Waiting to see whether Merkley and Stevens become comedy relief, or day-savers.

 

[SimonW]

Waiting to see whether Merkley and Stevens become comedy relief, or day-savers.

Or a little bit of both? We shall see in due course.


( chapter 1, part 4… )

The crane slowly lowered the water-logged vehicle onto the muddy ground where the police had already searched and had taken a wide birth in order to lower the car in the first place.
Officer Roger Merkley craned his neck towards the wreckage in a curious manner as he and his partner were looking from the back angle to the sides of their commanding officer that was leading the investigation.
“Looks like a simple case of accidental road incident to me,” Roger Merkley stated out loud in pondering thought as Officer David Stevens seemed to echo by simply nodding in agreement.
“That’s why you two are still rookies,” grumbled Chief Detective Gregory Fonda, leaving the two incredulous officers behind him as he walked up to the beige wrecked car with purpose.


The car was barely rusty, as the waters of the Cabal Waterway was a freshwater broad river that had muddy embankments that led to miniature forest preserves on both sides. A slight smell of seaweed marshes was the only pungent smell emitting from the once submerged vehicle.
With careful consideration of this, Chief Detective Gregory Fonda approached the car whilst circling it with concentration etched upon his face. A hazmat wearing officer also approached, taking multiple angle shots with a camera for police documentation to look at later if need be for the investigation.
With a contemplative sigh, Chief Detective Fonda allowed the forensics team to do their own thing, not liking to admit he was an “old-school” detective that did not get all the scientific evidence that they proclaimed about. Besides, he could peruse the case files later.
But, he could still observe and noted the fact that nobody was in the car as far as he could see.
‘Small blessings, at least for now,’ he mused thoughtfully to himself as the science forensic team gave the all clear and backed away from the car for the time being.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 5… )

Emboldened with renewed vigour in his mind, Chief Detective Fonda continued to circle the car until he stopped near the rear end and indicated with a slight finger wag to a nearby forensics officer to go forward.
Without hesitation at this motion, the forensics officer garbed in a hazmat suit with gloved hands walked over to the rear of the car and attempted to open the boot. At first, there was some slight movement as the underhatch handle was pressed but the indication of the locking mechanism held it firmly in place.
With another motion, a crowbar was handed to the officer and he gave a deft tug that popped the lock and the boot door swung upwards with ease after applying enough prying pressure. Stepping to the side, the forensics officer gave access to Chief Detective Fonda. The stench was the first indication that something was wrong, a smell hardened police knew all too well. The sight was the next thing to register the familiar decay of a corpse. Even though Chief Detective Gregory Fonda knew this very well as a seasoned veteran on the force, he never got used to the discovery of a dead body.
“Crap,” he briefly muttered under his breath at the discovery of the dead body in the trunk of the still water logged car in front of him.
The contorted body was stuffed in the back of the car, bent double like a haphazardly packed suitcase. There were no signs of life, just bone and tissue that showed a wet body as some water had cascaded out of the back of the vehicle, the flash of a camera as the forensic photographer snapped a shot for the case file of this iconic terrible moment.
Chief Detective Fonda was slightly in limbo at this moment, but his face hardened in resolve to see this crime scene through.
He bypassed the forensic team as he stepped closer towards the corpse before him, careful not to touch anything as he surveyed it with his eyes only.
As far as he could tell, the victim was male in his mid-teens, possibly of high school age. The face was contorted almost as much as the body, a grim death mask of terror, possibly screaming in pain or fear, Chief Detective Fonda did not know.
Only one thing was certain at that moment, this was now a homicide case.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 6… )


The sun rose slowly over the city, time passing without any consequence. The time was barely past seven thirty as the city became even more alive with the early morning rush of stall sellers that opened for the morning business hours. It would not be long before the offices would be opening where the street vendors peddled their morning wares to the walking traffic of a bustling populace.
One such peddler was a newspaper vendor called Robert Moss, selling a range of newspapers from The Tribunals to The Urban Jungle Square and a few wares of choice magazines that beheld fashion trendsetters like Miss Henrietta Delores Suffridge and just ragtag tabloids of conspiracy theorist nut jobs.
Robert Moss held a gait of a humbled street bigger but had an air of cheerful optimism despite his leg being crippled by a birth defect where one of his legs was shorter by ten inches than the other.
Having been growing up in the slums all his life, the forty two year old had his hardships in life but knew it was just the way life was and did not carry that chip on his shoulder.
With a sigh, Robert Moss rubbed the sweat from his brow after opening his stall upon the street and readjusted his flattened black hat upon his head.
Standing inside the stall behind a raised platform, Robert glanced up from his shaded stall to the morning light, eager for the day to begin as always, even if it was slow to begin with. He made enough money in sales to at least scrape by, but that was okay for him.


End of Chapter One.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 1… )

Chapter 2: Upon The Doorstep…

“Just tell them to look over the contract’s stipulations, Jerry,” remarked the fast talking businessman within his business suit attire, one hand holding up his cell phone to his ear as the other held a cup of takeaway coffee.
He gave a non-committed nod to the side at the newspaper man and turned away, his attention fixated upon his important business call.
Robert Moss paid the man no mind, having understanding that men of this calibre were a dime a dozen with the city day in and day out. He was just grateful to get the nod of recognition of existing, let alone the fact the man had paid in advance for his copy of the newspaper he was purchasing. Most others would have just gone about without even glancing at Robert.
“Now, what do you mean you misplaced the copy, Jerry?” the man incredulously asked in pure surprise before his face turned sour at the response from the man known as Jerry on his phone.
With a second or two, the man in the office attire just gave a shake of his head.
“Uh huh….right. Well, don’t expect me to cover for you. Yes, don’t worry. I’ll still pick up your lunch order later. Yep, see ya soon, pal,” the man stated with a slight sarcastic undertone before hitting the end call button on his cell phone and slipped his phone into his breast pocket of his black cover jacket.
“Trouble in paradise?” Robert asked the man as he turned to face Robert, whom had his arm outstretched with a copy of The Tribunals in his hand.
The business man’s face had dropped the slightly perturbed look upon his face and gave a wry grin of solemnly grievance.
“You have no idea,” he muttered as he grabbed the newspaper meekly from the peddler’s grasp with his free hand and tucked it under his arm before turning and walking away from Robert Moss and his newspaper stall.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 2… )

As he stepped away from the newspaper stall, Stephen Tyler took a sip of his early morning coffee as he walked up the Main Street, eager to get into work once more. The company he worked for dealt with sensitive contracts and renewals of loans or life insurance dealings. He knew his job ran him to the grindstone, pushing the hypothetical boulder up a particularly rough terrain end mountain. Often he would get the little nagging voice in his mind asking himself if this job he was doing was worth it. But, he stuck it out by hyper focusing on his job with new gusto that set a pleasant feeling of self accomplishment before the day began all over again weekly from back payments for a “refreshing approach” as his bosses put it.
Unknowingly gripping his cup of coffee slightly more tensely with these fleeting thoughts within his head, Stephen Tyler brushed them aside as he crossed the street on his way to his workplace.
It was not a long walk, not that it minded Stephen, until he was standing in front of the office building complex that a whole floor was bought out by the company he worked for as office space for their workers.
Stephen readied his shoulders slightly, not having noticed he had tensed his muscles at the familiar workplace environment he saw five days weekly from eight am to four pm.
With another anxious sip of his coffee to steel his nerves, Stephen Tyler was prepared for the monkeys in a barrel he undoubtably faced with bittersweet feelings about.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 3… )

As Stephen flashed his work i.d. card to access his company’s work floor to the security and secretary to bypass, he felt a slight state of hesitation as he waited within the elevator to get to his job’s floor.
Was it unease or tension maybe? No, he thought to himself. Maybe it was just his imagination or discomfort from the phone call he had with Jerry. Shaking free this feeling mentally, he prepared himself for another day in the office as a thirty-three year old businessman.
He was about to take another gulp of his morning coffee until the elevator dinged onto his floor and made him stop lifting his disposable takeaway cup as he heard and saw the chaos he witnessed upon the doorstep of his office environment.
It looked like everything for the briefest of seconds were in freeze frame. Gerald from accounting was in the throes of a fistfight with their HR Manager Susan, the two of them about to deck each other within an animalistic fray of unbridled rage. The two juniors of the office were attempting to hold Gerald back and failing, Donald and Mitch seemingly getting mixed in the fight between the two of the senior workers.
Stephen was barely able to catch a glimpse of a perturbed looking Jerry to the sidelines whilst the head honcho, their boss Henry Hoatzin, was trying to seperate the fight to no avail.
Time seemed to move once more as both punches connected the two co-workers in tandem, knocking them both to the ground in a stupor as an irate Henry ordered both of them to stop the nonsense and get into his office right then and there.
Shocked at this spectacle he was witnessing, Stephen and most of the others knew it was over as the boss’s final command was issued to the two semi-conscious workers upon the carpeted floor.
Most of the monkeys returned to work, not eager to incur the wrath for not working upon the clock as the hands finally ticked over to eight o’clock upon the company’s wall clock hanging over the elevator in full view of everyone present.
Shaking his head incredulously at the end of the fight he just witnessed, Stephen Tyler went over to his desk cubicle and sat down without a word at what he just heard and saw a moment ago.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 4… )

The silence was deafening within the workspace, a palpable feeling of hyper tension as the two co-workers begrudgingly got up from the floor and followed after their boss into his room.
The slamming of the door and muffled shouting of the boss’s voice made the whole of the workers remain silent and continued working to the best of their ability.
Jerry, the ten years senior to Stephen Tyler only in age, came up to Stephen’s cubicle office space with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“Well, that was a toss up,” Jerry remarked to Stephen as Stephen tried focusing upon the work in front of him.
Stephen acknowledged Jerry to the side of him and glanced up at Jerry from Stephen’s sitting position.
“Any updated info on that contract yet?” Stephen Tyler asked Jerry, ignoring the question Jerry previously asked him.
Jerry merely shook his head in response.
Stephen just took that as Jerry being his usual lazy self and just left that lingering in the open whilst refocusing himself back to his workload.

( to be continued… )

 

[Copperfox]

By tossup, do you mean that the discussion in the office was inconclusive?

 

[SimonW]

By tossup, do you mean that the discussion in the office was inconclusive?

Sorry, might be a language difference there, it is a coin of phrase us Australians use to say “ a fight broke out but nothing much came of it”… Jerry is referencing the fight, not any discussion. My bad for not making it clear.

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 5… )

Within the confined space of seconds, the office was but a hushed workplace of silence aside from the hurried clacking of multiple keyboard keys being pressed to almost be a distraction of what had transpired a moment ago.
Jerry had just shrugged nonchalantly and left Stephen to get on with his work in peace.
It had crossed Stephen Tyler’s mind whether he was the only one really actually doing his job as some others might just be pretending as the thoughts of what just happened circulated the air, invisible to the naked eye but still hanging like an oppressive force left unsaid.
Shaking this grim thought from his mind, Stephen allowed himself to return to his current job at hand, re-reading the initial contract on file in his workplace laptop to see if the client had any cause for retribution in their contract.
It sounded all clinically obtuse but remained a constant that the contract stood as it stands in clear that the client had done no wrong.
‘But, you have to be precise with these things,’ Stephen Tyler thoughtfully said to himself, re-checking what he was looking at.
Before he could re-read the contract, Stephen heard the boss’s door open and glanced over with mild interest as Gerald and Susan came out looking dejected and meekly separated from each other under the scrutiny of the boss’s gaze.
The tension remained constrained but deflated slightly as the two fighters went without a glance away from each other.
As the dust settled after a moment, Henry Hoatzin the boss closed his door and the air within the room was less stifling as if the collective workforce breathed out a sigh of relief.
There was no more unrest in the office and the collective known as Hoatzin Incorporated could finally relax at least for the remainder of today.
But it was still only eight thirty in the morning currently and Stephen Tyler knew this was but a brief respite within this cutthroat business world.


( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 6… )


The line within the sand was drawn, the seemingly endless file folders stacked upon the top of the middle of the desk in Chief Detective Gregory Fonda’s office at the headquarters of the building that stationed the Urban Jungle Police Force.
But the tides upon that shore kept coming in and out to erase that line, the contents of these folders and files of evidence even daunting at the fact he had not yet touched the documents pertaining to the autopsy report of the victim.
But, Gregory Fonda was not a man to give up, his determined and grizzled personality not bowing down when things got tough. It was a cornerstone of his character that enabled him to get the title of Chief Detective in the first place.
Gritting his teeth in hardened resolve to punctuate his already strong jawline, Gregory Fonda arched his back slightly as he returned to reading the evidence file that was already lying opened in front of him.
The water-drenched car was of no help, the licence plates having been taken off beforehand and there were no fingerprints for the duration the car had remained in the river. The beige brown car beheld it as a four seater sedan of some description, but the police mechanic was unable to put a year to the model, possibly mid nineties, but that was a rough estimate.
The contents of the vehicle yielded little in way of leads, the locked front compartment containing money in the form of five one dollar bills and twenty cents in change. Some scraps of waterlogged paper were found, but the ink had long since washed away, possibly overdue parking slips or shopping receipts. But, that was just guesswork. There were two brown bottles in the rear of the car’s seats, possibly filled with liquid that had been root beer, but again, that was mere assumption as the bottle logos showed a faded red and orange logo of a local brewery brand.
Moving on from the car’s initial evidence, there was a smaller list with what was upon the victim’s clothes. Thankfully, the victim in this case was clothed. But, it was still a terrible crime, that much Chief Detective Fonda knew.
The victim was dressed within a grey suited over jacket, the emblem of a local high school etched over the top of a jacket pocket. The pocket was empty, but within the inner jacket pocket lining of the suit was a magazine known for fashion and sports called Spot! Weekly, a trendy magazine most teenagers within the city read.
The other garments the victim wore were the usual attire one would find for a private school uniform. White undershirt that buttons up, red and blue tie, black trousers, white socks with blue trimming and black dress shoes that were a size six.
Surprisingly, there were no underpants or undergarments found with the victim. This worried Chief Detective Fonda for the moment but he decided to not dwell upon this fact as he continued reading the evidence list after a momentary pause of reflection in his mind.
The magazine was of note because a red circle of permanent marker pen that had not got washed off with the mark upon the soaking paper. The cover beheld a picture of Miss Henrietta Delores Suffridge front and centre smiling whilst posing in one of her latest masterpieces. The red circle had encapsulated around this image, but to what end Chief Detective Fonda did not know. Only that it was the only lead that amounted to anything so far in this current case.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 7… )

Heaving a dejected and apprehensive sigh of what he was about to do, Chief Detective Gregory Fonda picked up the initial autopsy file and started to read the clinically definitive description as best he could with a foreboding lurching in his stomach. The X-ray and photos depicted graphic imagery but were needed on file for prosperity’s sake and evidence. Luckily, only a few photos were taken of points of interest on the body of what was now classed as a fourteen year old male standing at five feet with a modest brown haircut.
Eyes were described as light blue with what appeared to be no signs of cataracts or impairment noticed. In all likelihood, he was a handsome boy that would have grown up to be in perfect health aside from his life cut short before his prime.
Grimacing at the fluidity of romanticism denoted in this by Dr. Samantha Richards, Chief Detective Fonda continued on.
There were slight abrasions noticeable upon the wrists and ankles of the victim, photos showing that the victim was tied up at one point.
Now came the grisly details of the report, death appeared to be caused by the drowning of the vehicle, a blunt force to the cranium underneath the matted hair showed he was likely unconscious before his death.
There were no signs of trauma or bruising around or near any orifices of the body. Chief Detective Gregory Fonda let out a relieved sigh. At least there did not seem to be any indication there was any sexual assault.
‘Not that any assault at all is good,’ he thought grimly to himself but was still relieved his previous assumption was out of his mind.
A few past injuries were all that remained of the initial autopsy so it would not be brought up again in the next report.
With a grimace still upon his face, Gregory Fonda put the report down upon his desk to mull it over in his mind.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 8… )

Compiling the mere facts and evidence he could track towards this case so far, Chief Detective Gregory Fonda had resulted in knowing that what the boy was wearing would eventually lead to the name and identity of the victim. Small blessings to be sure, at least they could identify the corpse so there would be no unmarked gravestone awaiting him in the cemetery.
That was not the problem, though. The problem Gregory Fonda knew he had to inevitably face would be the boy’s parents.
With a dark countenance upon his face that shadowed his inward demeanour at that grim but realistic future, Chief Detective Fonda sat stewing within his office as he laid back in his wooden chair to brace himself in quiet solitude.


The clock had barely passed nine thirty this fine sunny morning as droves of students gathered like a giant flock past the big wrought-iron gateway that beheld a simple bronzed lion head mid-roar as the official emblem of the private and prestigious school within the confines of The Urban Jungle’s prominent district of the city.
Barely a block to the rolling hills where the upper crust of high society roamed, the private school was situated within a suburban section of the city, barely touching the city’s filthy streets and influence. But just because the school was in a more refined section of the city did not mean there were no city problems of a different kind.
A rollicking band of cackling akin to a pack of hyenas when taunting their prey was a festering nest of school politics and egocentric hierarchy beneath the surface of “the elite” within this caged zoo of well-bred children. From ages twelve to sixteen, all within these hallowed halls knew the underlying structure of the society that was on a needle thread tightrope, knowing that you either barely made it across or fell with grace before the crashing fall without a safety net.
The lions would roar, the hyenas feasting upon your carcass as buzzards soared above to pick your bones clean without a moment of thought to you afterwards. The real mediocrity of high school was to be either ignored or snubbed into extinction.

( to be continued… )