The wind whipped through Lennon’s long mahogany hair, tangling the tresses with a fury. With the top down and her shades on, she soaked up the last of the sun’s rays dwindling over the horizon. Her Porsche roadster hugged the curves of the tiny, winding road beautifully as she raced along the edge of the towering Bristol cliffs. After work she thought about going home and possibly seeing her father and knew that her current detour was necessary to her sanity.

After school, Lennon gave out about two to three hours of private lessons to earn her some spending money. The rest of her living funds came from Harvey Dent, who was more than willing to support her. She never touched her father’s blood money from his criminal activities.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday she gave gymnastic lessons to young girls who were at a beginning to an advanced level. On Tuesday and Thursday, she worked at the dojo where she herself learned martial arts and earned so far up to a level four black belt in judo, karate, tae kwan do, jujitsu, and, a rare sport for a prestigious dojo, kickboxing. She was currently working towards earning a mastery level on the Bo, an ancient but deadly Japanese weapon. Her test on the weapon was on Thursday, the same day as the case between Harvey and Richard. She was sort of unhappy that she wouldn’t be able to get to the courthouse until after working at the dojo that day, because she always tried to attend every minute of Harvey’s big cases.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Lennon made her way home. She was wary of what she might find once she got there, but she knew it would be no different from every other day of her life. Her house had a constant influx of thugs and molls, all the lowest of the low in Gotham’s underworld. Other times, they were “honored” by the visit of other Bosses, as they were her father’s most regular clients. When she was home, her father either seemed oblivious to her presence or found some way to abuse and humiliate her. And his men never ceased making crude comments or gestures towards her. After being exposed to it day after day, though, she learned to ignore it all.

Pulling her car into one of their huge garages, Lennon noted the other cars parked haphazardly around the fountain roundabout in the center of the huge courtyard that was the entrance to the Johnson’s two-story mansion. She sighed as she got out of the car and walked up the six steps to the huge oak double doors that led inside the house, hauling her books on her back in her backpack. She silently opened one of the doors and crept into the entryway. She could hear Richard speaking angrily from the dining room and then knew it must be some of his men visiting. She snuck through the living room towards the stairs, hoping her father wouldn’t notice her.

Lennon got halfway up the stairs when her father turned and glared straight through her. She abruptly stopped in her tracks.

“Lennon. You home from school already, girl?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Looks that way to me.”

Richard gave an evil grin. “Good. It’s about time I took care of you permanently, you ungrateful little brat.”

With a nod of her father’s head, Tommy guns materialized seemingly out of nowhere in three gangster’s hands. Lennon barely had time to react as bullets began to fly at her. She turned and ran up the rest of the stairs, dropping her schoolbooks. She mumbled to herself, “What the hell has gotten into him?”

“Watch out for the china!” she heard her father yell.

Great! Lennon thought. Kill the kid, he says, but watch the china. She reached her room and slammed the door behind her, locking it. Lennon immediately went to her closet and grabbed a rope ladder, there supposedly in case of a fire. She threw open a window and hooked up the ladder as the men began attempting to knock down her door. She knew it would not take them long to get through. Desperately, she jumped outside, sliding more than climbing down the ladder. She landed hard on the dirt and grass and quickly went into the enclosed area where the garbage cans were kept, shutting the gate behind her. Of the six garbage cans there, she went to one in particular, took off the lid, and jumped inside.

Just then, Richard and his men busted down the door of Lennon’s bedroom. They noticed the hanging rope ladder and ran to the window. There wasn’t any sign of Lennon anywhere.

Richard began screaming. “Search the grounds outside! She couldn’t have gone far!”

The gaggle of thugs quickly made their way outside. They searched high and low, but to no avail. One man even looked into each and every garbage can, but they were all empty.

“Send a hit out on my daughter throughout the underground,” said Richard, frustrated. “A reward of $5,000. She won’t go far in this city without someone trying to kill her.”

“Yes, sir,” said his men before they tromped away.

Richard angrily punched the side of the mansion. “Goddamned bitch!”

P A N T H E R E T T E