"I know this city like the back of my hand. Don't need no teen telling me I'm wrong."
"I didn't say that!"
"You meant it." The cabby shrugged.
"What! I want out!" Emma protested.
"Well, you're miles from where you need to be." The cabby pulled over. Emma quickly stepped out.
"I told you that!" She slammed the cab door shut.
"I don't want you near my cab again, ever." The evil grin returned to the cabby's face. He swung his cab perilously in front of another vehicle. The driver leaned on her horn.
"Ugh. Crazy cabby." Emma remarked. She turned and surveyed her surroundings. Tall polished skyscrapers surrounded her. Their windows glinted sun into Emma's eyes. She didn't have any money for a taxi, so she began walking. She estimated it was about three miles to the station.
I've walked further than that before, she thought, I just hope I can make it. Emma had walked barely forty paces, and already her steps were slowing down. The crowd was pushing in around her.
She paused to take a breath. A familiar bell toll made her look up. Emma was in front of The Gotham View, the newspaper for commonfolk and high society alike.
"My mother used to work here." She realized aloud. Anne Wayne had slowly worked herself to the top until her journaling made the front page. Only one day she had suddenly been fired, there was no reason for it, except that the editor said their payroll had lessened and they had to cut down on expenses.
Three days before my father was fired, and three days before my parents were killed. Emma thought.
Suddenly, someone slammed into Emma, roughly throwing her against a parked limo. It knocked the wind out of her, and she felt like her lungs were caving in. As she caught her breath, someone yelled at her,
"Watch where you're going!" Emma slowly sunk to the ground and buried her face in her hands.
"I can't go on like this." She moaned.
"Are you alright, Miss?" A voice asked. Emma looked up. An elderly gentleman stood before her. He offered her a hand to help her up. His grip was surprisingly strong.
"I'm so sorry. Is this your car? I don't mean to be in your way." Emma said hurriedly.
"I know, I saw what happened." The gentleman said. "That thief slammed into you pretty hard, are you sure you're alright, Miss?"
"I'll be fine." Emma smiled. "But you think he's a thief?"
"Oh, I don't know much about these sort of things." He smiled, "Still, are you missing anything?"
"I have nothing to miss," Emma said simply.
"If you're going far, Miss, I can give you a ride." The gentleman said.
Be wary of strangers, Emma thought. She weighed her options: faint from the exhaustion of trying to walk three miles in poor condition, or, risk taking a ride from a stranger.
"Yes, I would like that," Emma decided. The man smiled.
"Alright, step in!" He said, and he graciously opened the door of the sleek, classy limousine.
"Where to?" The gentleman said, after pulling from the curb.
"The Central Police Station, please," Emma responded. Her eyes wandered in awe around the inside of the spacious limo. Black posh seats were covered with real leather. It was suited for anything from celebrating to partying.
Okay, it's not suited for much. Emma thought. But it's very elegant.
"I don't mean to pry, but would you be so kind as to tell me why you're headed there?" The man said. "Maybe family problems?"
"I guess that would be it, or the lack of them." Emma sighed.
"I know what that feels like, Miss." The gentleman kindly responded. Emma then quickly tried to change the subject. "Question for question, why did you drive a limousine to the View?"
"The Gotham View, the newspaper."
"Oh yes, sorry Miss, my mind has been on other subjects lately." He apologized. "I needed to put an ad in the paper, and I just happened to be driving this vehicle." Emma nodded. A silence ensued for the rest of the drive. Soon, they pulled right up to the front of the station.
"Thanks so much, Mr. . . "
"Oh, just call me Alfred." The elderly gentleman smiled.
"Thanks, Alfred." The girl smiled. Secretly, she was relieved she actually arrived, but she was also scared.
Emma pushed through the revolving doors of the station.