The Mistress of Justice

Ed Wallace glanced up as the rookie entered his office. The grizzled editor flicked his eyes at the door, hoping the kid would get the hint to close it behind her, then sighed when she froze at Ed's look.

“The door,” Ed growled.

The kid jumped out of her trance and fumbled for the doorknob.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“What's your name again?” he sighed.

“Sicily Monroe,” she stuttered.

“Monroe, tell me everything you know about this,” Ed growled as he tossed the file across the desk. Her eyes lit up as she read the label.

“The Mistress of Justice?” she squealed. “Why, I've been following this!”

“You and half the city,” Ed snapped.

“Well, sightings began about three weeks ago,” Sicily recited. “There were reports of a woman wearing a white leotard in the vicinities of petty crimes that got interrupted. Muggers and purse snatchers actually begged to be arrested after she allegedly beat them into submission. ”

“And then she caught those bank robbers, and the rest is history,” Ed mused.

“Why are you asking me about this?” Sicily asked.

Ed shrugged. “You're new, you're hungry, and I need a new and hungry pair of eyes on this. Find out anything you can on this.”

“Me?”

“Look, kid,” Ed leaned forward, “all the papers are chasing the same story. You're new to the city, you're young, you might come up with a new angle.”

“Gee, only three weeks on the job, and you're giving me this,” the kid said.

“Yeah, just don't fail or you'll won't last another three weeks.”

“Oh, I won't fail,” Sicily murmured to herself as she fingered the sleeve of the white leotard under the cuff of her blouse.

Word Count: 298