Michael Jackson Imagines

Smooth Criminal (Bad Era)

1987

"You've got some nerve, coming here, trying to get our guys. You know what curiosity did little kitty? It killed the cat." A single shot rang out through the halls, signaling another girl struck down.

"Y/N, you've gotten your assignment. You're working as a dancer at Thriller. Get info, get evidence and when we've got enough we'll take these bastards down." Y/N worked as an undercover operative for the California Special Victims Unit. This time she went under the name Annie Calico, a bottle blonde who would fit right in with the other girls, undetected and underestimated. She nodded and gathered the case files they had, researching the minute she got home.

The spacious living room was covered in the photos of dead girls, bank receipts and alibis of Johns and employees who had been caught. Y/N pieced together what she could with what she had. She emptied cup after cup of coffee in hopes of staying awake. She hadn't even given a thought to the clock ticking on until the man she shared the home and her life with walked through the door. He had taken off his crisp white fedora during the drive home and unbuttoned the matching suit jacket as he entered the threshold. He hung up his things and sat next to his lover. His black and white Spats entered her peripheral vision as he took a seat next to her on the floor. He kissed her cheek and looked over what she had been given. "What've you got this time? Trafficking ring? Serial murders?" She looked up at him, her eyes shining and her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm investigating your club for a slew of murders. The line connecting them all is they were at, or worked at Thriller. I become Annie Calico next week. Michael, no one knows that I'm engaged to the "Blue Gangster". I know you're innocent, but the guys have been trying to get you and your patrons for years. If I say why I can't take the case, then I'm never going to be allowed to continue to work. But, I don't want to help them hurt you. I'm trapped." He hushes her and pulls her into his arms, consoling her until the morning light.

She had been under the alias of Annie Calico for about a couple weeks and Michael was having fun with it, too much fun if you asked her. "Oh, Annie, I need to see you in my office." "Oh, Annie, I need you to be my personal dancer tonight. I've got some very special people to impress." "Oh, Annie, I already told Donnie you'd be my server tonight. Thank you." Since Michael had labeled Annie his favorite it was much easier for her to investigate. All she had to do was say Michael sent her and she was sent through without a second look. Unfortunately it did cause a little turbulence between her and the other girls. "I don't know what it is about you. Michael never treats us the way he does you. Are you two having an affair? Because he turned me down because he had a girl already."

"Boss, I took care of the threat. One of our little kitties turned out to be a rat. Too bad she won't ever be able to tell her police friends what she found." A single heartbeat quickened. Thousands of questions filled a mind. Millions of scenarios were envisioned. None were good.

The weeks turned into months as the investigation went on, and nothing truly turned up. She tipped off her coworkers to some roofie carting Johns, but nothing that would help her catch the horrible being killing in the streets. It was her three month anniversary with Annie Calico and she had become a little desperate. She started looking into every employee and she was shocked at what she found. She raced to the pay phone during her break and made a phone call to the police station. "Look, I've got something. I may have found our guy." She hung up the phone and exited the booth, a large and meaty hand covering half her face in a strange smelling cloth until she fell into a black abyss.

"What have you done?"

Y/N woke up in one of the back rooms of the club. Ironically, it was one that Michael loved to drag her back to after a performance. She looked up through the groggy feeling at the man who had taken her. "Welcome, little missy. But then again, I'm sure you've had a warm enough welcome. Warm enough to feel you were able to snoop through what you shouldn't." She quietly wriggled out of the ropes tied to her wrists behind her, scanning the room for a way out. She noticed a table too low to the ground for her captor to crawl under. While he was busy watching the window, she threw herself out of the wooden chair. As she sprang forth, the chair crashed to the ground. She scrambled under the table but her ankle was grabbed by the large hand. She shook him off and ran to the little bedroom that had been installed for one reason or another. Even then it was too late. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her about like a rag doll. "You've got some nerve, coming here, trying to get our guys. You know what curiosity did little kitty? It killed the cat." A single shot rang out through the halls, signaling another girl struck down.

Black spats raced down halls. Blue and white silk billowed with quick movement. A white fedora flew off a head of dark curls and laid crumpled on the floor.

Y/N laid on the floor, watching her blood stain the carpet a strange shade of reddish brown. In movies it was bright red, the color of a finger prick. She had seen blood, she had seen gunshot wounds, but it was strange and confusing to her when she was the one losing her life force.

A door was slammed open by a frantic lover, searching for the one who made the sun rise. A bottle blonde laid on the floor, crumpled like an old toy no longer wanted."Y/N! Stay with me baby." The lover sank to his knees harshly, but the physical pain wasn't felt.

Y/N had heard in your last moments your body hallucinates what gives you most comfort to act as damage control. It didn't surprise her that her vision was one of Michael. His eyes were wet, and his curls in horrible disarray, but to her, there was no more beautiful a sight. She weakly lifted a hand to his face, and he pressed it to his cheek, kissing it all the while in quick pecks. "I'm sorry. I never should have taken the case. I should have accepted the desk job instead." Black entered her vision as she spent her last moments telling her love how much she loved him. And giving him the blessing to move on.

White pants grew red with spilled innocent blood. Someone called for the police, but the lover never moved. Someone barked out: "Okay, I want everybody to clear the area, right now!" but still he never moved. Someone went to move the body, and the lover slumped like a marionette with cut strings. Someone helped him into the ambulance, and he watched as men and women did CPR on his lover. He gripped her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, the bright gleam of her engagement ring winking at him evilly. When they arrived at the hospital he wasn't allowed back with his lover while the doctors performed procedure after procedure. While he was forced to wait, he gave his story to the detectives. All he could think of was sorrow and revenge. And he could feel the Blue Gangster fill his mind.