Chapter 1 of Contemporary Corruption

Authors Note: This is what I currently have for the first chapter of the contemporary corruption story (so far unnamed). Some things to be aware of before reading. The story takes place in an imaginary city that's a combination of Los Angeles, New York, and to some extent even Night City, located where LA is currently, imaginatively named Los Yorkeles. I know, I know, but it's on the nose on purpose. Secondly, this is a corruption story. That means certain things. I haven't yet gotten to a point where the story has real sexual content, but that's going to be a large part of the story. That's kind of the point of corruption stories.

To make an even more important point, there's not going to be any outright rape in the story, but there might be scenes where the power dynamic is rather fucked. Sexual harrasment and scenes of dubious consent will be present. Always remember that our MC always has a choice. The story is all about choices after all. If the MC goes along with something where consent is dubious, it's because she chooses to do so. Will this be a major part of the story? I don't know. Like I said, I haven't written any sex scenes for it yet. I would assume there's some parts though, as I've already sown seeds for such. Whether all of them sprout is another matter. These kinds of things are part and parcel for corruption stories, and I'd assume things get nastier the more corrupted things get. If these kinds of things are not your cup of tea, don't read it. I'm only posting it for those that might be interested. I have another story that I might post something for in the next few weeks that might be for wider tastes.

Without further ado, let's get on with the show:

Chapter 1:

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"Ms. Khalidor, the Chief will see you now." A tired-looking secretary called out. The woman was in her forties and wearing very typical office clothing. Not very new clothing either. The skirt had been worn hundreds of times, and the blouse had seen better days, while still looking fairly attractive. Not entirely unfashionable, likely just busy and too tired.

She stood up from her seat and smoothed her skirt. Wearing high-waist pencil skirts had become something of a habit for her in professional settings, and fiddling with her skirt had become a sort of ritual to go into professional mode. Several confident steps took her through a thick mahogany door and into an office filled with framed newspaper clippings and awards for journalism. There was even a Pulitzer on the mantle above a fireplace that was likely never lit. The room was too filled with flammable materials, with all the books, newspapers, and a couple of expensive rugs. To the side was a nice wooden coffee table with two comfortable chairs, while directly in front was the desk of the man she’d come to see.

“Ms. Khalidor, welcome.” The older bald, shaven not balding, man stepped around his heavy desk and came to greet her. She could see his eyes roaming up and down her body, something she was very used to. At least he managed to mostly look her in the face.

She took the extended hand and gave it a firm shake, a lesson from her father. Then she flashed a beautiful smile, a lesson from her mother. “Good to see you too Chief Editor Cummings. I’m glad you took the meeting. I know how busy you must be.”

The man made a non-committal grunt while placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her to sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk, before circling around to sit behind it again. “Not like I had much choice. The Director was quite adamant.”

She smiled again, this time with a slight tinge of schadenfreude. “Yes, well, it was part of the deal.”

“Alright then Ms. Khalidor-“ He spoke, but she interrupted.

“Selene, please. If we are going to be working together, I’d rather you use my first name.” She allowed, the smile never leaving her lips, smoothing things over.

“Selene then. I was appraised of the details of the deal, but not much on the reasoning behind it. You are already doing spectacularly well in the TV section of our organization, so why would you want to be part of the newspaper division as well? So much so that you'd make it a condition of continuing your TV appearances." The Chief Editor asked, clearly not entirely pleased his superior was foisting someone on him.

She considered a moment, choosing her words very carefully. “You know I’m doing well in front of the camera. You also know why.”

The man cleared his throat a bit and allowed his eyes to wander up and down her form again. "It's not exactly hard to figure that out. The ratings of our TV channel rise ten to twenty times higher every time you’re on air. I’ve seen your work. It’s insightful, funny, and to the point, but let’s be honest. People aren’t watching you in those numbers because of your wit. They’re watching because of your looks.”

She smiled again, showing she didn’t mind. “Correct. And no need to beat around the bush. We all have our advantages, and I’m well aware of mine. And with all your experience, why would you think someone in my position might want to work in investigative journalism instead of TV presentation?”

He tapped the table with his fingers a few times. “Two reasons mainly. The first one is because they realize they’re aging and know they can’t leverage their looks forever. A lateral career move, sometimes even a downgrade, but worth it in the long run. Doesn’t apply to you and won’t for a long time obviously. You’ve only recently graduated, and you're barely above twenty. If you can maintain your looks, you have a good fifteen to twenty years in front of the camera in the bag. The second reason, and my apologies if this plays into the old blond jokes, is that they want to be taken seriously. They want to be known for more than just their looks.”

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him at the latter. “Close, but no cigar. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t mind being taken more seriously in some situations, but quite often it’s beneficial to me when others underestimate me. They mistakenly say things they shouldn't when they take me as just another pretty face. Sometimes it's very, very useful indeed to not be taken seriously. No, I've always had an interest in digging up the truth. And I believe in the old canard. It is the job of the investigative journalist to dig up the truth. To hold the powerful people accountable. And there’s not enough of that going on. There are a lot of people getting away with things they shouldn't, and I believe I can help. You could call it a combination of a desire for justice and the desire to bring down some bad, bad people.” She didn’t even mean to, but the way she said bad sent a shiver down the man’s back.

“Although you’re not wrong were we living in the ideal world, you seem to have a slightly glamorized ideal of the profession.” The man pointed out. “It’s not all fun and intrigue. It’s a lot of hard work and digging through dusty archives and endless documents.”

“Oh, I know the work can be quite tedious. Most of the important information is hidden between layers and layers of guff. Working through archives and transcribing interviews is going to be a major part of the profession, especially as a newbie. I went through the schooling and graduated in record time you might notice. However, despite being snapped straight out of practical training to appear on TV, I did do the scutwork that all students have to go through as prospective journalists. I’ve made coffee and spent days and weeks inhaling archive dust.” She reassured the man.

“Good. It would be annoying if I was forced to hire you, and then you ended up hating it and wanted to quit, leading to trouble with the contract. You’re also going to have to start from the bottom, just like everyone else. Just because you’re a star on TV, that doesn’t mean you’re the star here.” His eyes had softened a bit, but not by much.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I bring my own advantages to the job, and I’m confident that you’ll learn their value with time.” She had a lot going for her, and while she considered herself intelligent, she also knew that was the least of her assets.

“Speaking of, I do have a condition of my own. I know you’ve already gotten this approved by the Director, but I can bury you in the previously mentioned scut work if you think that gives you a free pass in my newspaper.” His eyes hardened again.

“I’m listening.” She assured him, willing to humor most anything within limits of reason.

“You know. You. Know. The main reason you do so well on TV is because of how you look. You know it’s one of your advantages as you’ve said yourself. Well, we would be fools if we didn’t take advantage as well. Just because you aren’t on camera here, that doesn’t mean we can utilize your appearance in other ways. And we’re going to. That’s my condition.” The man stated firmly. “I don’t want to hear complaints later that I didn’t warn you.”

“I need you to be slightly more specific.” She had expected as much. In fact, she planned on utilizing her looks to her advantage as well. If you have the looks, why not use them?

“I don’t want you to get huffy if you get sent on an assignment specifically as eye-candy. There are some people that we’ve dealt with in the past who we know will talk more freely to a pretty face that’s new rather than someone they know is a hardened reporter. We’re going to utilize that. You look young and innocent. We’re going to play off that. Some people are horndogs and can't keep their mouths shut if they see someone attractive. We’re going to utilize that as well. Are you fine with this?” He asked.

“To an extent. I’m not going to sleep with people if that’s what you’re asking.” She said firmly.

“And I’m not asking you to. Flirting and dressing a bit revealing though? That might be necessary. Do what you need to and are willing to do to get information. Also, another thing. Not all our stories are going to be hard-hitting journalism about exposing corruption and crime. Sometimes we need pieces that bring readers and fill the pages and puff pieces that pay the bills, even if it’s not the most exciting stuff. Those pieces allow our real journalism. As a new member of our team, you’re going to be assigned a healthy dose of that kind of work.” The man was really making sure she was going into this with eyes open, which she could appreciate.

“I know. I would expect nothing less.” She nodded firmly. That had been something they’d been told repeatedly in school. Pages needed to be filled. Just because you needed weeks or months to unravel some great story, that didn’t mean the paper didn’t come out during that time. If every journalist was out chasing the white whale, all the small fish would go uncaught. And many readers really liked the small fish.

“Good. In that case, welcome to the team Selene. I hope you’ll last.” The man nodded towards the door. “Gladys will give you your details. You’ll have your first morning meeting tomorrow at ten. You’ll get your first assignment then. Today you can just familiarize yourself with the office and your new coworkers.”

She could take the hint and stood up from her seat. “You will not regret giving me the opportunity, Chief.” She promised him, getting just a grunt in response. She could feel his eyes on her ass as she walked out. She couldn’t really blame him. It was a great ass. She worked hard to keep it that way. Would be a shame if no one noticed.

Outside, the secretary had already stood up to meet her. “I heard congratulations are in order, Ms. Khalidor.” She looked a bit more positive and slightly less tired. Likely the interruption she provided was a welcome one.

“Thank you. Can I call you Gladys? You can call me Selene of course.” She greeted the older woman, stepping close enough to be at a companionable range, no longer strangers.

"Of course, dear. Everyone does. I don't think anyone even remembers my last name." Gladys tapped the name plaque on her desk that said 'Gladys Cummings'.

"You know, I did wonder. Any relation to another Cummings?" She asked while throwing an exaggerated glance towards the Chief Editor's office. She didn't think the two were married.

“Cousin. I suppose it’s partially my fault. I try not to remind people so that they don’t think I got my job just because of James. And then I do something like I just did. I was here first, I’ll have you know.” Gladys said with a faux-stern voice, clearly injecting some humor into the discussion.

“Good. I believe you.” She nodded in an obviously feigned conspiratorial tone.

“Now, I suppose I should show you around. You’re going straight into the investigative journalism office.” The older woman led her towards the elevators. Before reaching them though, she gestured towards the other offices. “We have the leaders of every department on this floor as well. We have Print, News, Daily, Sports, and Fashion departments.” She pointed to every office in turn. “As you might expect, Print handles the actual printing and the paper portion. News is self-explanatory, though these are the more ordinary news of the day and week. Daily handles everything that goes into every paper, from comics to opinions section, to editor’s digest, to crosswords, and everything in between. Sports and Fashion are self-explanatory again, although they also double as the ones to handle celeb stories in their own fields respectively. You’ll meet all of them eventually.”

“I think I’ve actually met one already. Ms. Whitmer from Fashion. They’ve interviewed me several times.” Selene admitted. She was also a sort of celebrity thanks to her TV appearances. Among other things, though most hadn’t realized yet.

“Ah, right, right. I keep forgetting you already work with other parts of our company.” Gladys nodded as they stepped into the elevator. There was a list of which floors were reserved for which departments beside the doors, and Gladys pressed the ninth floor for investigative journalism. “I would imagine James will have you working with the Fashion department regularly then.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. He might, if they’re low on stories, but I’m likely more interesting as a story to them than a writer. It’s not my expertise after all. I know enough to handle myself, but not enough to write about it.” She downplayed her knowledge a bit. She knew Gladys would report everything to the Chief, and it might influence her work. She didn’t mind being the subject of an occasional story, but she didn’t want to give any reason to be shunted towards the department as a writer. Nothing wrong with fashion, but that wasn’t what she was here for.

“It’s good to be aware of your strengths and weaknesses, darling.” Gladys nodded along, seemingly accepting her words.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to a rather quiet office space. No one seemed to be around. “We’ll go see if Antonio is available. He’s the Senior Reporter.” Gladys turned directly to the right from the elevator and led her towards an office towards the back. She knocked on the door and quickly opened the door just enough to peek in, before fully opening the door. “Antonio. I’m here to show around the new hire.” She guided Selene inside.

The man sitting at the desk had darker skin, hinting at the same Latino origin his name did, and dark features. He was relatively handsome, with a thin goatee and mustache matching his black hair color. He looked somewhere around late thirties or early forties and seemed to be in a rather fit condition. He had a suit jacket on the back of his chair, while he wore a dark button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. The shirt and pants, at least, were well-cut and -tailored, clearly not cheap. He wore an expensive-looking watch, and a simple gold ring on his ring finger, implying he was married.

He simply waved them to come inside while focusing on some sort of document. When he did look up, he did a double take though, clearly enjoying what he saw, although not allowing his eyes to roam too much. A serious person then. “I did hear this was a possibility. Not great timing though, Ms…?”

“Ms. Khalidor, although I’d rather you call me Selene.” She responded professionally.

“I think I’ll stick to Ms. Khalidor while in the office, at least for now.” The man shook his head a bit. “Like I said, your timing isn’t the best. We have a lot going on right now, and almost everyone is out. We also had our meeting yesterday, which is where we hand out assignments.”

Gladys sighed. “James remembered that the meeting would be tomorrow. “

“Of course he did. And to be fair, it was supposed to be. The situation with the governor and the police chief forced us to adjust things and he wasn’t available to attend.” Antonio seemed a little apologetic as he looked towards Selene. "It's not your fault, of course, just shitty timing."

Selene remembered there had been a sex scandal involving the governor and the police chief, among other politicians. The mayor had also been implicated, but had been cleared of any wrongdoing, albeit his reputation had taken a slight hit as his more horndog nature came out. In an ironic twist, that had not hurt his popularity numbers as people seemed to appreciate an honest pervert of the regular kind. Schtooping your secretary didn’t seem so bad when compared to those involved with minors, which was why the other two men were a whole other case. That brilliant piece of reporting had been one of the many reasons she’d wanted to join the investigative journalism department here.

She smiled encouragingly. “That’s fine. Just utilize me in any way you need until the next meeting. I’d rather help than be in the way.”

The man’s fingers tapped the table for a moment. “I think Darius is still around. Gladys, would you please check if he’s at his desk and ask him to come here.”

While the older woman popped outside, Antonio looked at her in a more evaluating way. “I see you’ve at least dressed appropriately, although I’d recommend more comfortable shoes. Heels will not serve you well in the field.” She was wearing stiletto heels so high that she was effectively standing on her toes.

She tapped her bag and gave a smile. "I'm prepared." She pulled out a pair of black shoes meant for running, sat down in front of Antonio, and started changing into them. A quick glance up proved that he was looking down at her cleavage. Her blouse wasn’t showing too much, but enough to entice. And with her bust, it would be hard not to show at least some cleavage without being uncomfortable in this weather. That only got enhanced while leaning forward so blatantly.

Gladys quickly came back with a tall and broad black man in his late twenties. The man wore jeans, sneakers, and a nice jacket over a rather expensive-looking t-shirt. He clearly spent a lot of time in the gym judging by how his jacket and shirt were being stretched. His hair was cropped short, and he didn’t wear any obvious accessories. “You wanted to see me, Antonio?” The new man asked.

“Yes. You’re about to go out to talk to the cops on the 98th, right? Selene here just joined us as a new investigative journalist today. We don’t have anything ready to be assigned to her, so take her along and show her the ropes.” Antonio instructed.

“Shitty timing.” The man, apparently Darius, commiserated, echoing Antonio. “I’m Darius. Let’s go. I’ll fill you in on the way. We’re in a bit of a hurry if we don’t want to get completely scooped.” The man quickly shook her hand with a firm grip and led her towards the elevators. “You look familiar. Very good, but also familiar.”

"Do you watch the Herald's TV channel?" She asked. "You might have seen me on weekends. I often appear on the evening news, some sportscasts, and a comedy show or two.” She told him just as they stepped into the elevator.

“OHHHH! Now I remember. You’re the hot new newscaster everyone is talking about.” He nodded to himself. “I see. I’m usually busy on weekends, so I’ve only seen you in passing while catching the evening news on the rare occasion I’m not going out, but I’ve heard good things.”

“Hopefully not just that I’m hot.” She teased a bit, smiling good-naturedly. It was hard to be mad when someone was complimenting her, and she was well aware of why people watched her.

“Uuh, mostly that to be honest. Though I have heard someone mention you’re good at presenting arguments and funny in a dry-wit kind of way.” Darius scratched his head a bit a bit abashed. “So, what are you doing here then?”

“I’m doing the TV thing just to be allowed to do the investigative journalism part. I don’t mind doing TV, but it’s not what I really want to do.” She didn’t bother sugarcoating things.

Darius laughed. “You’re doing something many people only dream about just because you have to. I’m not laughing at you, just the irony of it all. That’s how the world works sometimes, I suppose.” They arrived at the garage level. “We’ll take my car.”

He guided her towards a rather modern-looking sports car. She really didn't know much about cars, but it looked sort of expensive, though not top-of-the-line. "We're going to a scene of what we assume to be a murder. Reporting on local crime is part of my duties." Darius opened the door for her, and rather obviously ogled her legs and cleavage as she sat down. After running to his own side, he continued. "We aren't locked into our chosen fields, and when I’m not around, someone else would be sent. However, we do specialize a bit, and I have a lot of cop contacts, so I can usually get more detailed information than others. Being able to report more information more accurately than our competitors is part of why we are the best.”

He drove out of the garage and onto the roads of Los Yorkeles. “You’ll get your own specialization eventually as you build contacts and find your niche. We have some obvious gaps currently, politics and economy to name the most obvious ones. Since it’s your first day, I’ll give you a rundown on some of the basics. No one is going to monitor your hours worked here. We get paid according to what we produce, and all the bigwigs care about is that we produce quality content. Note that I said content and not news on purpose. We also work plenty of evenings and nights, as that’s when our contacts are often available, especially if they want to talk off the record.”

He swerved around another car that moved a little erratically. “That means you’re not really expected to spend a lot of time in the office in the morning. In the case of you newbies, it would probably be better to be available to help others after ten in the morning. You don’t have your own leads or stories, so you’re expected to help the rest of us with ours. We often need help from others, be it archive diving, transcribing, or just offering another point of view. Just having someone to bounce ideas with is often quite useful. Both parties also learn from the experience. We have quite a few freelance reporters, but only a dozen regulars that come to the office. We hired another newbie not too long ago, so that might also be why your timing isn’t great and why the boss might be a bit cranky.”

They drove towards the less affluent area of the city. It wasn’t quite a slum, but the value of properties was obviously plummeting the further along they went. “Now, the exception to the timetables are the group meetings. These meetings are both regular and irregular, in that they don’t have a set date or schedule, but they happen at least once a week and we set the next meeting up in the previous meeting. All regulars and newbies are expected to attend, unless you have a bloody good reason. This is the most important part of the week, where we report on the progress of our various projects, and where the Chief and Antonio assign new jobs for us. It’s also a great opportunity to get new ideas and perspectives on what you’re doing, and it’s often the place where you can request assistance and advice. It’s also the place where the chief sometimes crushes our dreams and forces us to focus on more mundane things rather than whatever big new thing we’re always chasing. The Chief also sometimes tries to force a certain point of view or angle on us because he thinks it’ll sell more papers. The bitch of it is, he’s usually not wrong, even if it can be a little borderline unethical at times. And we do need to sell papers. The whole thing doesn’t run on righteous indignation.”

“Print media isn’t doing great.” She concurred a little vaguely.

“Exactly. That’s why Antonio sometimes goes along with it and sometimes defends the original point of view. He picks his battles. Kind of has to. Ah, here we are. Just follow my lead.” He parked the car near some buildings that looked almost like abandoned factories.

The police presence was obvious with a couple of cruisers limiting traffic and yellow crime scene tape closing the alley between the buildings. A pair of uniformed officers were standing by the alley talking to a black woman in a suit. The woman had a gun and badge on her belt while wearing civilian clothes, which suggested she was a detective.

Darius led them closer, calling out once they were close to the cops. “Smitty!”

The detective turned to look their way, a slight frown on her lips. She was a rather good-looking woman in her late twenties. She was athletic and slim, and the dark blue suit and red shirt really suited her slim frame. "Darius. You're here fast."

“You know it darling. We pride ourselves in both accuracy and speed.” Darius smiled at the detective in a way that Selena supposed was charming in its own way. “This is our new reporter Selene by the way. Her first day. Let’s make it exciting.”

“I didn’t know the Herald was hiring supermodels nowadays.” The detective gave her an appreciative glance. Interesting. “We don’t have much for you yet. You know how these things go.”

“I know. I’ll be happy with whatever crumbs you can give me. I know talking about ongoing investigations is not cool.” Darius leaned against a nearby wall in a very relaxed way that just so happened to show off his best features. He might be barking up the wrong tree though, if Selene’s instincts were right.

The detective was playing along though. For what reason, Selene couldn’t say. "Well, we can say for sure it was a homicide. We assume she's a streetwalker. You know it's too soon to say when it comes to the cause of death, but she was knifed. No ID on the victim."

“Isn’t this a third one in a month?” Darius’ tone suddenly got worried.

“It is. And I know what you’re thinking. We don’t want any speculation or even a hint of this being a serial killer in the news, you hear? Besides, we’ve had trouble IDing the victims, so it’s hard to have a good picture of the situation. These cases might not be related at all.” The detective warned him firmly. “I told you all this as a favor, now you’ll have to pay it back by keeping your theories in check.” Ah, the detective wanted to control the narrative for now.

“Ok, ok. You know I’m not one to speculate wildly.” Darius lifted his hands in front of him defensively.

“Do you have a picture?” Selene suddenly asked.

“Who, the victim? Why?” The detective turned to her.

“I may be able to help if you have a decent picture.” She explained.

The detective stared at her for a moment, considering her options. Finally, perhaps out of frustration and desperation, she pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of a young black woman lying face-up on the pavement.

Selena pulled out her own phone. “I’ll need to scan the picture. Don’t worry, I’ll delete it right after.” She lifted her phone to the detective’s phone and her phone scanned the picture, before starting to run an app.

“What’s that?” The detective asked suspiciously.

"This app will scan social media for matches to your picture, hopefully identifying the person. It's kind of like running an image search on Google, except a million times more focused and effective." Her phone pinged. "Ah, here we go. Niesha Dorell, 19, a student at LY Technical. A lot of pictures of her partying." She showed the result to the detective. “Including in the dress she’s wearing in the picture from last night. Don’t know the bar on sight though.”

“That’s her! Well done. We can take it from here. Where can I get this app?” The detective asked eagerly.

“You can’t unfortunately.” Selena had to burst her bubble. “It’s still in development.”

“Then how do you have it?” Darius asked the obvious question.

“I’m the main investor funding the development.” She revealed as if it was a minor detail. “Besides the obvious profit motive, I like funding useful little projects like this that might not be commercially viable otherwise.”

“Honey, the police really could use this kind of info.” The detective stated with obvious determination.

“I understand. I would also assume police precincts would be the main customers for the program when it’s released. I can’t give it out, as the guys still want to make some profit and it is still in development like I said. Unexpected errors might occur.” She tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured nail. “I could perhaps swing a beta key to you personally. As a favor.” The implication was obvious.

The detective smiled a bit. “Darius, you got yourself a keeper this time. Tell you what, I’ll give you my number, and I’ll owe you a huge one if you can give me access to this app.” She leaned closer. “Don’t hesitate to call for other reasons either.” She whispered just quietly enough that Darius didn’t hear on the loud street.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” After the detective handed her the number, Selena and Darius walked back to the car. “I think that went rather well, don’t you.”

Darius laughed. “I’d say. Smitty’s usually a real hard ass. Only my charm has managed to worm into her heart, giving me any access.”

“Your charm, sure.” Selena didn’t burst his bubble, even if her tone was a little sarcastic.

“Seriously though, that was well done.” He suddenly seemed to remember something. “I didn’t know you were some sort of an investor.”

“You might want to look into that then.” She said mysteriously.