Morris The Dangerous Jade Pt 02

Morris Micklewhite and The Dangerous Jade

A Fanfiction

Based on the character Jade Dragon

created by Battlestrength

Part Two

by The Preve

The Author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Battlestrength for his permission in writing this story, and Destodes 777 for his edit.

James Joseph Levy, born August 4, 1960, in Chicago, Illinois, married Fiona Chow Li, born May 16, 1964, Hong Kong, on a beautiful summer's day in August 1988, a week after his 28

th

birthday.

A boatswain's mate, first class, stationed in Guam, Joe was the son of a North Lawndale used car salesman, and a Polish-Jewish immigrant Holocaust survivor from Krakow.

She was the daughter of a Hong Kong Cantonese store owner, and an Irish bank teller from Cork.

The announced engagement startled both families, none knew the romance between the couple, but they recovered, and the Levys were able to fly to Guam for the wedding.

The affair was low-key, attended by the Chows and the Levys, along with Joseph's shipmates. The two families gave gifts to the newlyweds. Fiona impressed Hanna Levy, Joe's mother. While Hanna wished Joe had found a nice Jewish girl, she found Fiona lovely and intelligent.

Lloyd Chow was fully satisfied his new son-in-law loved his daughter deeply, and would make a good husband for her.

The photograph of the newlyweds, Joseph in his dress whites and medals. Fiona in her simple red cheongsam dress, constituted one of two mementos kept by their daughter. It was her only visual memory of them.

Jennifer Jade Levy entered the world, March 15, 1990, at the Naval Medical Center, Portsmouth, Virginia. The labor was difficult. On birth, doctors initially thought Jennifer underwent oxygen deprivation and brain damage.

She did not cry upon emerging from her mother's womb, nor when slapped. A nurse, weighing her later on, took note how Jennifer's eyes followed her movements. A doctor took note as well.

It became apparent to the Levys, shortly after, Jennifer was not an ordinary child. She rarely cried and took longer than most children to acquire language. However, by the age of two, she'd read Dr. Seuss and, by four, was at a sixth grade level.

The Levys were loving, attentive parents, and recognized their child's gifts early. They took great pains to make sure of their daughter's education, but Joseph's naval career made finding proper schools difficult. They moved constantly, and too few schools had facilities to educate gifted children.

The Levys' future dreams for Jennifer were cut short by tragedy, June 22, 1994.

On the way home from a showing of the Lion King, in Pensacola, Florida, the Levys' station wagon got hit, head on, by an SUV.

The driver, Sam Boggs, a plumber, was on the wrong side of the road. A subsequent alcohol test found him at four times the legal limit.

Joseph Levy died instantly. Fiona died on the operating table. Boggs survived. His airbags, unlike the Levys, worked. The auto company recalled the station wagon model due to the fault. Boggs' sentence: ten years for vehicular manslaughter.

They brought Jennifer to the hospital, unconscious; an object gripped in her hand. It could not be pried loose, in spite the efforts of doctors and nurses, nor would she allow it to be taken on regaining consciousness.

It was a small object, given to Fiona by her father for a wedding present. The night of the accident, Fiona gave it to her fidgety daughter, to calm her excitement after the Lion King.

A tiny jade dragon.

The social worker assigned to Jennifer's case, broke the news gently as she could. Jennifer did not react; a lack of response which unsettled the social worker. Her experience defined such emotional absence as either trauma, or sociopathy. She left Jennifer staring at her parents' wedding portrait, praying this child wouldn't become a problem in the future.

Shortly after Jennifer received news of her parents' deaths, a new friend appeared. His name was

Lee.

He was British.

The senior Levys and Chows had both died within a few years of each other: the Levys from accidental carbon monoxide poisoning in '91, Lloyd Chow from a heart attack in '89, Siobhan Chow from breast cancer in '93. There were no other surviving relatives. The state placed Jennifer Levy in foster care. She'd bounce from foster home to foster home for the next eleven years.

Opinions on her varied:

Unnamed social worker- "Lack of speech skills, inability to complete school work, indicates low I.Q. Recommend placement in a special needs program."

Unnamed special needs teacher, letter to supervisor- "Who the hell recommended placement of Jennifer Levy in this program?! Somebody fire that idiot. This girl wrote a report on 'Catcher In The Rye.' I repeat

Catcher In The Rye!

For a special needs class! I demand she undergo an IQ test, immediately."

Notes on the results of the IQ test, Jennifer Levy, age: 7- "Tests indicate IQ of 152, placing subject at an extremely high ability. Recommend advanced classes."

The papers vanished into the labyrinth of Florida bureaucracy.

Psychological evaluation, August 10, 2000: evaluator- Carl Spencer, PsyD, Miami Clinic: subject: Jennifer Jade Levy, age: 10- "Extraordinarily intelligent young girl but extremely violent. Antisocial personality, possible schizophrenic. Foster home placement extremely problematic due to violent behavior. Conversations with 'imaginary friend' referred to simply as

'Lee'

indicates possible childhood schizophrenia. Anti-psychotic medication recommended."

Psychological evaluation, October 4, 2003: evaluator- William Sonders, PsyD, Florida State Hospital for Disturbed Children: subject: Jennifer Jade Levy, age: 13- "A complete psychopath. Extraordinarily violent. Chronic liar. Probable Munchausen Syndrome. Paranoid schizophrenic. Claims of hearing voices from nonexistent individual named

Lee.

Recommended course of anti-psychotic medication, prefrontal lobotomy."

Note: William Sonders was later arrested and charged with multiple counts of sexual abuse, on evidence provided by an anonymous individual, referred to as Jade Dragon. Follow up investigations uncovered numerous cases of abuse by staff, corruption and graft by officials connected to the hospital. Hospital was subsequently closed and patients transferred to other clinics. In the context of Doctor Sonders' conduct, any evaluation is considered questionable.

Note: Levy evaluation discounted, as assessment was performed in wake of alleged assault on Doctor Sonders by Miss Levy, in response to attempted sexual assault by Doctor Sonders.

High school diploma is awarded to Jennifer Levy, age 16.

Personal opinions.

"A strange, sad, quiet girl." Unnamed foster parent, 1995.

"A sad, angry child." Unnamed foster parent, 1997.

"A demon child! Spawn of Satan!" Reverend Billy "Bubba" Wallace, foster parent, 1998, later jailed on multiple charges of child abuse and welfare fraud.

"She's weird." Unidentified foster brother, 2001.

"Highly intelligent, for her own good. I believed placing her in a regular school with her peers would socialize her. The poor child got into so many fights, with the students, with the teachers. Yet, she managed to get such high grades, at least when she did the school work. The teachers couldn't keep up with her, and the students . . . well, I know children can be brutal, but she's had such a tough time in foster care. I hoped the students would be accepting but . . . and there's that imaginary

Lee

character she always talked to.

And there's the time I caught her trying to dye her hair green. And she took to calling herself Jade Dragon. It just got to be so much; the fights, the disrespect to the teachers, the principal, her imaginary friend. A friend of mine recommended William Sonders. She said he did wonders with her daughter. If I'd known . . . and then the whole thing came out about him, and my friend found her daughter . . . " (interview ends here). Edna Harris, foster parent, 2003.

"So anyway, me and the girls, we got to raising the ruckus, and it draws everyone in. The fucking guards, the pill pushers, the shrinks, the wards, and nobody fucking notices Jade.

So she pops out and comes back, and everybody goes back to the usual fuck shit. And it goes on for a few days, and then boom! The fucking blues swarm the place, fucking reporters crawling all over the building. They bag Sonders and half the staff.

Jade hacked the fucking cameras, linked everything to half the police and news stations across the state. They got everything, including that fucker Sonders and his act. It was beautiful . . . No, I'm not going to tell you who Jade is. Find out yourself." Interview with unidentified former patient, Florida State Hospital for Disturbed Children (closed), 2005.

"It was all about her energy really. We knew she was extremely intelligent but she'd had bad foster care experiences. People who'd misinterpreted, mishandled, or held her back; and then we got a bunch of her papers, one of them her IQ test, and we saw her high scores.

So we thought the best thing for her was to challenge her brain, and give her some freedom. Of course we didn't realize how she would exercise some of that freedom, but America, like it or not, is a highly sexualized society. It only pretends to be puritanical.

We did manage to get her into college classes, while fulfilling legal requirements for high school attendance. We had her evaluated after that incident when she was fifteen. The psychiatrist diagnosed her as hyperactive, and recommended therapy.

We decided to try redirecting her physical energy, so we enrolled her in gym and martial arts classes. She took to them very well.

Jade Dragon? Well, she liked to call herself Jade Dragon instead of Jennifer, so we called her that as well. Elaine taught her how to dye her hair properly, even finding the right kind of emerald green to match her dark hair.

The imaginary friend? We think of it as an eccentricity rather than a psychosis. I think

Lee

is a sort of personal sounding board for her, like, you know the cartoonist, Pat Oliphant?

Lee's

her Punk Penguin.

All those past incidences were responses to bad handling, not impulsive actions. Except, perhaps, the sexual activity.

Her location? We don't know. She's moved around so often after she aged out. We offered to let her stay permanently but she wanted to see the world. She sends postcards sometimes. The messages are short but sweet, so we know she thinks of us." Interview conducted with Sarah Moore and Elaine Dougan, foster parents, 2009.

From the personal files of Harry Coal, case officer, Special Activities Coalition, International Intelligence Syndicate (redacted).

Jade Dragon.

It just goes to show you; there's always a killer around the corner. You do a kickass job on your last gig. Score some big bucks in the bank account. Get home. The kid's quiet for once. You treat yourself to a bath, and just when you think you're going to get some decent downtime, things go to shit.

Of course they go to shit. It's Murphy's Law number thirty-four. At least we get to see you naked.

You get to see me naked. Everyone else has to imagine it 'cause there's no pics. He's writing me naked because I just got out of the bath.

Who's writing you naked?

The schlub writing the story. He saw me naked once . . . twice . . . a bunch of times.

I thought I was writing this story.

No you're not. You're just the Chorus. He's trying to channel you.

Oh. Should I be flattered or insulted?

I don't know. You're white and British (he thinks) and he's black and American, so I guess he's doing the best he can. Now, can you shut up and let me get on with the story?

I don't think I've been channeled before.

Always a first time. Now, where was I? Just finished a job . . . scored some dough . . . kid's quiet . . . out of the bathtub . . . right. So I head to my office, to check my messages. I got a nice set up here. State of the art shit, set up by me mostly, plus some of the best programmers money (and sex) can buy. All of it connected to the dark web and my bank accounts. None of it traceable to me.

I had to audition a few. The guys and gals who assisted had to be least as good as me.

Yeah, and you fucked most of them for a discount. Killed a few who got too greedy, and some who got too nasty.

You can't trust too many folks in this business, Boss. You know that. Some of those fucks shouldn't try extorting clients without doing research first. I might've let 'em get away with some of it, if they hadn't treated me like some dumb slut who knew fuck all what she was doing.

Nah, probably not.

Yeah, you're right. I'd've killed their asses anyway. So, getting away from the digression, my office is lit up like a Christmas tree. Alerts across the dark web. Phones buzzing from contacts. Email stuffed to bursting with messages.

I'm thinking something really big just went down and, boy, am I fucking on the bullseye.

The Syndicate's on the warpath. They're offering some big bucks to track down a scientist, Yelizaveta Slutskaya. It's in the seven figures.

I'd heard of Doctor Slutskaya, even read her research. She was really on the cutting edge of biotech. Saw pictures of her too. She's hot. I'd tap that ass in a heartbeat. Disappeared a few years ago, dropped off the map. Now it looks like she got snatched from some safe house in Key West.

A note says she might be accompanied by a young man; not much more than that. The man's probably in a ditch. If she's the target, he's baggage.

Even before I finish reading, I know I'm taking the contract. Those seven figures are a shitload of money. The man suspected of the snatch seals the deal: Doc fucking Hazard. I've got the serious jones for him, and not in that way.

You shouldn't have said that in the first place. Now I have to wipe the image from my mind.

Sorry Boss. Doc Hazard has a seven figure contract himself. If I can kill two birds here, my score'll be a personal record.

I click my acceptance but it looks like I have two competitors. Odd, I thought one was dead. Doc Hazard doesn't get many takers. He's too much trouble for the best of them, and he has some protection from the Big Folks. I took him on when I was fresh, young, and naive.

And what a show that was.

Shut up Boss. Yeah, that was ten years and dozens of bodies ago.

My first move: get dressed. Typically between gigs, when Isabelle's not scheduled, and I'm not expecting guests, I'll go nude around the apartment.

And damn! Do I love the display!

Geez, Boss.

Little Joe will have stories to tell when he grows up.

Little Joe's too young to remember anything. When he gets older, I'll cover up.

For how long. What happens when he gets to legal.

Look, I'm not into that shit.

You sure? You fucked a dead man. You like killing people in the middle of the bang. Believe me, when it comes to sex, you go there.

. . . Right, so next: call Isabelle.

She comes. I hand Little Joe to her. Tell her I'm gone for a few days, give her a bonus, and then head for my other "office."

Isabelle never asks questions. I think she has an idea what I do for a living. She hinted, once, her family has a foot in The Life too. She was taught not to ask questions, just take the money.

My other office is a tricked out semi and trailer in a rented garage, where I keep my gear, among other things.

My arsenal, extra money cache, including gold, bearer bonds, some priceless art (including a Pollock and Van Gogh).

Look, I don't treat money like water. Sure, I like to spend it, but I like to make it too. Whether scamming some rich mark by getting pregged with his baby . . .

Right before you killed him.

Or finding good investments to build a big portfolio . . .

Which paid off handsomely.

I got cash salted away all over the world in hidden accounts. Stocks and investments in big corps. Front businesses to launder my earnings. I'm comfortably well off. I do this job 'cause I'm good at it, and I like it.

The garage might look ordinary on the surface, but underneath, it's a giant safe; burglar proof. Cost me a mint but it was worth it. It's a good and solid emergency hideaway, and the semi's fueled for a quick getaway.

So's the other two vehicles I got: my BMW S 1000R motorcycle and The Growler, my cherry red 1950 Mercury Monterey with bullet proof glass, extra armor, and a nitrous oxide injector engine. I bought it, restored it, and tricked it out 'cause I saw this Stallone movie, "Cobra." Shit movie, kickass car. I wanted one.

The gig's a locate and rescue, with the Doc as a T.O.O.

Target of opportunity.

So it's going to be a quick in and out. Wherever they're located; house, apartment, garage, it's probably guarded. That means the C8 carbine, grenades and flash bombs, katana, k-bar, tactical cat suit, and a gas mask. After my first encounter with the Doc, I don't take chances.

I take The Growler. The 1000R is good for solo gigs but I'll likely have a passenger or two.

On the way to Key West, I put in at a rest stop and take out the laptop.

Be careful. That T-shirt and Daisy Dukes get up'll attract attention.

I'll be quick.

Like the trucker outside Atlanta? The cop near Buffalo? The biker gang in Twin Falls?

Shut up Boss.

Just trying to warn you not to get distracted.

Advice noted. The way I figure, this snatch had to be a rush job. The Syndicate's good with security, ordinarily, but my hunch tells me someone leaked. When the Syndicate moves an asset, they rarely put out advance warning. So whoever got her, found out, and put the snatch together fairly quick. Either getting some quick hires or using assets already available.

I start by going over Doc Hazard's known associates. He keeps assets on retainer. So it's the FBI, CIA, and Syndicate databases. No, wait. It's domestic so no CIA.

The Matamoros Cartel's not moved. The Breakpoint private military corporation's still in Chad killing civilians. The Devil's Bandits MC are guarding an arms shipment in San Diego. A whole list of associates are busy with private projects except one: the Aryan Revolutionary Front.

ARF! ARF!

That's right. Go and insult the canine race. ARF's been quiet lately, which might be a good thing, except ARF's almost never quiet. They're always up to something. They're usually based in Minnesota but spotters identified some barkers in Florida, and they went quiet recently, very recently. There's following crumbs, and there's hunches. I go with a hunch.

A contact I know in Key West, Brody, has a girlfriend, Cassie, whose brother's in the Front. The brother likes to sponge money from his sister. Brody says the brother likes to sports bet. I get an idea.

"Do me a favor. Tell your girlfriend, an old pal's looking to place some money on the Marlins game, and if her brother knows a good sports bar. Add that I might be looking for some other action too."

I send him a slightly altered picture (different hair color, altered nose, still hot) of myself, to show the mark.