Maketh would be correct in that assumption. The minute Rita hears there's something more than just escaping in this for her, she tenses, then relaxes. Maketh will deliver, if only because not doing so will put her life in danger.
"You must be really popular at family reunions." (Snark is in Rita's DNA, as much a part of her as her bones.) "Is that it?"
She doesn't motion to the building; it's obvious which one she means, even though it blends in perfectly. The only reason she spots it is she knows what she's looking for.
Maketh lifts her head, eyes narrowed. She doesn't want to talk about her uncle. "Yes."
It's a dump, and an aggressively unfriendly looking one at that. But it has reinforced walls and electronic locks, and weapons hidden away along with medical supplies and a few satellite phones.
"Drive inside and close the...uh. The doors. They're armored." Maketh takes a deep breath to focus. "There's going to be a desk. Box in the right drawer has a phone. Get that to me."
This part goes on without incident, lucky for them. Rita shuts the doors once thet've parked inside, searches for the phone, and brings it to Maketh.
"Here. And for fuck's sake, don't kill yourself trying to talk. I'm hungry, but I don't exactly want to eat you." Not because she cares; it's just that brains are fickle things, and they don't stay in your system very long.
"How sweet of you," Maketh murmurs. She considers trying to sit upright, but decides she doesn't want to move. Just breathing sends sharp throbs through her chest. For a moment, Maketh imagines she's swallowed glass, that the shrapnel is digging around in her back with a damn mind of its own.
Foolish. Ignore that.
She dials the number slowly, deliberate about each number, and presses the phone to her ear. If her uncle doesn't respond, Maketh isn't sure what she'll do. Kallus won't help them again. The rest of her allies are dead. Rita is a civilian, clever but untrained, and hungry. That's probably the worst part. Maketh tucks her bandaged wrist to her chest. She doesn't want to die, not really, but she's very tired all of a sudden. Tired and hurting everywhere.
Stop. Focus. Remember what you have to do.
The phone rings once, twice. Then it clicks. Someone picks up. They don't say a word.
Maketh closes her eyes. "My name is Maketh Tua. Tell your boss I'm calling in his debt."
There's a long moment of silence. Then: "state your location."
Oh, thank god.
Details are exchanged. Maketh outlines what she needs. A timetable is given. Certain exchanges are made.
Maketh shuts off the phone and lets it slip from her hand. God, she's tired. She just wants to go to sleep and never wake up. "He's coming. Has what you need. It's going...going to take an hour."
Despite having all the resources of a professional mercenary, her uncle still had to contend with the traffic time and whatever fuss would be required to get his hands on all the necessary supplies. Human brains weren't lying around.
That's not even worth a response, so Rita waits, watching to make sure Maketh doesn't keel over or end up needing medical care... which Rita can't really provide anyway, but she's here for moral support.
She takes the phone when Maketh lets go of it, listening carefully. "An hour's fine." She can hold out that long, but not if Maketh is going to sit here looking like she's ready to fall asleep in death's arms.
"I don't know if I should keep you awake until then or not. If I should keep an eye on you to make sure you survive." The last thing Rita needs is to be accused of killing Maketh solely because, if Maketh does die, she is going to rip open her skull and have a nice, fresh meal.
But she leaves out the bit about how hard it is to just say and watch, precisely because her Romero brain is looking at Maketh like she's on the menu.
Maketh flexes her good hand just for something to focus on. This is happening. She needs to focus. "I'm going into shock."
It's said quite simply. There's not much than can be done about it at this point. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and she's crashing. It happens. It's expected. Under better circumstances it wouldn't matter but in these, it might just kill her. There's always the chance she'll stop breathing before her uncle shows up.
Focus, soldier.
"Find something. Keep me from getting...uh. Getting too cold. Can't sleep."
Maketh desperately wants to sleep.
She grimaces, face pressed against the leather of the seat. "Understand?"
Great. A medical emergency. Just great. Rita glances around the garage and sighs heavily upon not immediately finding what she needs.
"I have to walk away. Don't fall asleep, or I'll eat you."
That should be motivation enough, right?
Luckily, a quick search in a nearby cabinet turns up some emergency blankets, the kind that firefighters give survivors as they stare blankly at what's left of their home. Rita grabs two for good measure and heads back, throwing one on Maketh, hoping any pain her apparent carelessness causes will wake her if she's fallen asleep. The other one she wraps around herself to feel a little safer.
"Talk to me. Tell me a story or something. Stay awake." The words do not sound very kind, but there is a slight note of concern to Rita's voice. It comes from knowing that right now, Maketh is the only person she has to depend on.
Maketh grunts as the blanket falls on her, none too gently. She shifts as little as she can to pull it closer and then, quite deliberately, makes a rude gesture in Rita's general direction. "Fuck you. I don't know any stories. You tell me something. Describe your job."
"Is that any way to treat a very real threat to your life?" Yep, she's enjoying this.
Everyone has stories, but private military contractors aren't exactly the sharing types. So Rita leans against the vehicle, keeping an eye on Maketh, and thinks back to the life she used to live.
"I was my father's assistant. Sounds like a glorified secretarial job, but it was more than that. Everything he did, I knew about. Everyone he talked to, I learned about. I looked like just a pretty face, but that was part of the point. Be disarming, have people eating out of the palm of your hand before they knew what happened.
"I knew all the company's secrets and how to handle even the smallest situation. It was-- it is going to be mine when my father dies. Pretty boring, right? My own little empire in the making."
Apparently they're going to do this. Death threats and all. Maketh groans. "Buy me a drink first."
She's beyond caring at this point.
But despite the tone, Maketh listens. You have to know what you're dealing with. One suspicion has been confirmed: Rita is clever enough to be dangerous when she's in control of the terrain. That could come in handy.
Crossing her arms and tugging the blanket tighter around herself, Rita levels a glare at Maketh. "Do you take me for an idiot? I don't know you, and I don't trust you. What I just told you is all you're getting."
She snickers, looking up at the door they'd come in through. "I will tell you this: if we make it out of this shit alive, I'll buy you that drink."
That's a big 'if' -- Rita is pretty sure one or both of them will die. Probably Maketh, really. If someone wants to take all of Vaughn Du Clark's money, they'll keep Rita alive for longer. (The --, in the not unlikely event that he refuses to pay up -- and only then, will they kill her.)
She's not - god, she's really not - but Maketh allows herself to pretend for a moment. Just a moment, so this can be normal and she can breathe.
It's not going to be quiet for much longer. There's no telling what her uncle will do when he gets here. Maketh isn't sure he'll hold up his end of the bargain, either. He'll come - he's too proud not to - but after that?
Well, they'll just have to see.
Maketh grimaces, almost a smile. She likes this blanket. It's warm and heavy. "Rich girl has expensive tastes. Of course."
It's weird to joke about it when you know it's true. Rita has only ever gone Romero once, back in their cell, and it was more than enough for her.
"I learned from the best." Or rather, the worst. The best at being the worst. That's her dad for you. "Is your uncle going to knock, or should I go peek every now and then?"
Maketh almost smiles at that, though the expression fades quickly. There's too much she doesn't know about her uncle. He operates by a code that might not include her anymore. "I don't know. He--likes to make statements."
In another, less dire situation, she would have called him dramatic.
Maketh grimaces. "Listen. His name is Harper. He owes me a debt and he's the type to pay it, but nothing beyond that. He's been in this business longer than anybody else."
The business being a private military contractor, only Harper didn't have a company. He had family. That was a tad more dangerous.
"If he asks you anything, don't lie. Not even for small things. Do you understand?"
Maketh lifts her head to meet Rita's eyes. It's important this part go right. "He has rules. Don't lie and he won't hurt either of us."
She could keep going, shooting the shit with a very wounded soldier, but instead Rita goes quiet, checking her nails and poking Maketh now and then to make sure she doesn't pass out or die. The hour goes by slowly, the hunger at the periphery of Rita's awareness the entire time.
"If he's late, it means he's dead, right?" And what would they do then?
Maketh stays quiet for a moment, thinking. It's not likely Harper's dead. Her former employees don't have any reason to know of him. She's never played this card before, never spoken of her family at all, and Harper doesn't have the same last name as she does. It's a distant connection.
But there's a chance. The Imperials are thorough.
"Is the hour up yet?"
If it is, they'll have to move on regardless. Possibly break into a hospital or a morgue. If Maketh's people haven't used this safe house lately, there might be enough cash hidden for a few bribes. Enough to get a doctor to patch her up and possibly lose some human tissue samples.
Get up, soldier. Do what you must.
There's a noise outside. A truck pulling up. Then someone banging on the door. "Open the door. No guns."
The voice is rough and masculine, with a sharp accent. Harper.
Standing up from her lean against the car, Rita straightens. This is a business deal, basically. She's got this. "Let's do this."
When she opens the door, she steps back to give Harper room to walk inside. "No weapons." She lifts her hands as if to prove this, then motions to tye car. "She's in there. Still awake, hopefully."
It's been years since she's seen Harper in person. They've only met twice, once when she was a child and again when she'd been at the Naval Academy. Despite that, he hasn't changed overly much. He's still hawk-faced and impossibly tall, blonde hair sheered close in the same military buzz cut. He's still handsome too, though his face carries several new scars, one of them quite severe. It looks like his face was stapled back together, though with a good amount of skill. He's dressed in a suit, though one that he's treated carelessly. The shoulder holster is ruining the line of the jacket.
He looks like her mother. That's the worse part.
Maketh shivers and doesn't sit up. Harper doesn't approach the car, only nods to someone at his side - a man Maketh doesn't recognize, but who carries a medic's quick-kit on his belt.
Harper eyes Rita up and down, then removes something in a biohazard bag. This he throws to Rita. "Who are you?"
There's a part of her that wants to follow the medic and make sure he isn't going to kill Maketh, but that part goes silent quickly when the bag is tossed her way. Even if she didn't know what's in it, she'd know from the weight of it. Rita opens the bag and peers inside and almost dives head first into it.
But she has been asked a question, and she needs to keep this from going badly.
"Maketh's cellmate. My name is Rita Du Clark." Now twll her she's free to go eat.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-01-20 08:57 pm (UTC)"Some debt. I'd hate to be them."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 02:40 pm (UTC)Her uncle probably won't be happy to see her. But there's a debt he wants paid and Maketh desperately needs a favor.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 03:14 pm (UTC)She doesn't motion to the building; it's obvious which one she means, even though it blends in perfectly. The only reason she spots it is she knows what she's looking for.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 04:46 pm (UTC)It's a dump, and an aggressively unfriendly looking one at that. But it has reinforced walls and electronic locks, and weapons hidden away along with medical supplies and a few satellite phones.
"Drive inside and close the...uh. The doors. They're armored." Maketh takes a deep breath to focus. "There's going to be a desk. Box in the right drawer has a phone. Get that to me."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 05:58 pm (UTC)This part goes on without incident, lucky for them. Rita shuts the doors once thet've parked inside, searches for the phone, and brings it to Maketh.
"Here. And for fuck's sake, don't kill yourself trying to talk. I'm hungry, but I don't exactly want to eat you." Not because she cares; it's just that brains are fickle things, and they don't stay in your system very long.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 06:21 pm (UTC)Foolish. Ignore that.
She dials the number slowly, deliberate about each number, and presses the phone to her ear. If her uncle doesn't respond, Maketh isn't sure what she'll do. Kallus won't help them again. The rest of her allies are dead. Rita is a civilian, clever but untrained, and hungry. That's probably the worst part. Maketh tucks her bandaged wrist to her chest. She doesn't want to die, not really, but she's very tired all of a sudden. Tired and hurting everywhere.
Stop. Focus. Remember what you have to do.
The phone rings once, twice. Then it clicks. Someone picks up. They don't say a word.
Maketh closes her eyes. "My name is Maketh Tua. Tell your boss I'm calling in his debt."
There's a long moment of silence. Then: "state your location."
Oh, thank god.
Details are exchanged. Maketh outlines what she needs. A timetable is given. Certain exchanges are made.
Maketh shuts off the phone and lets it slip from her hand. God, she's tired. She just wants to go to sleep and never wake up. "He's coming. Has what you need. It's going...going to take an hour."
Despite having all the resources of a professional mercenary, her uncle still had to contend with the traffic time and whatever fuss would be required to get his hands on all the necessary supplies. Human brains weren't lying around.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 11:55 pm (UTC)She takes the phone when Maketh lets go of it, listening carefully. "An hour's fine." She can hold out that long, but not if Maketh is going to sit here looking like she's ready to fall asleep in death's arms.
"I don't know if I should keep you awake until then or not. If I should keep an eye on you to make sure you survive." The last thing Rita needs is to be accused of killing Maketh solely because, if Maketh does die, she is going to rip open her skull and have a nice, fresh meal.
But she leaves out the bit about how hard it is to just say and watch, precisely because her Romero brain is looking at Maketh like she's on the menu.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 04:36 am (UTC)Maketh flexes her good hand just for something to focus on. This is happening. She needs to focus. "I'm going into shock."
It's said quite simply. There's not much than can be done about it at this point. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and she's crashing. It happens. It's expected. Under better circumstances it wouldn't matter but in these, it might just kill her. There's always the chance she'll stop breathing before her uncle shows up.
Focus, soldier.
"Find something. Keep me from getting...uh. Getting too cold. Can't sleep."
Maketh desperately wants to sleep.
She grimaces, face pressed against the leather of the seat. "Understand?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 03:27 pm (UTC)"I have to walk away. Don't fall asleep, or I'll eat you."
That should be motivation enough, right?
Luckily, a quick search in a nearby cabinet turns up some emergency blankets, the kind that firefighters give survivors as they stare blankly at what's left of their home. Rita grabs two for good measure and heads back, throwing one on Maketh, hoping any pain her apparent carelessness causes will wake her if she's fallen asleep. The other one she wraps around herself to feel a little safer.
"Talk to me. Tell me a story or something. Stay awake." The words do not sound very kind, but there is a slight note of concern to Rita's voice. It comes from knowing that right now, Maketh is the only person she has to depend on.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 05:51 pm (UTC)Presumably Rita had one, once.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 06:29 pm (UTC)Everyone has stories, but private military contractors aren't exactly the sharing types. So Rita leans against the vehicle, keeping an eye on Maketh, and thinks back to the life she used to live.
"I was my father's assistant. Sounds like a glorified secretarial job, but it was more than that. Everything he did, I knew about. Everyone he talked to, I learned about. I looked like just a pretty face, but that was part of the point. Be disarming, have people eating out of the palm of your hand before they knew what happened.
"I knew all the company's secrets and how to handle even the smallest situation. It was-- it is going to be mine when my father dies. Pretty boring, right? My own little empire in the making."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 11:17 pm (UTC)She's beyond caring at this point.
But despite the tone, Maketh listens. You have to know what you're dealing with. One suspicion has been confirmed: Rita is clever enough to be dangerous when she's in control of the terrain. That could come in handy.
"You have your own assets, or just information?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 11:44 pm (UTC)She snickers, looking up at the door they'd come in through. "I will tell you this: if we make it out of this shit alive, I'll buy you that drink."
That's a big 'if' -- Rita is pretty sure one or both of them will die. Probably Maketh, really. If someone wants to take all of Vaughn Du Clark's money, they'll keep Rita alive for longer. (The --, in the not unlikely event that he refuses to pay up -- and only then, will they kill her.)
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 12:00 am (UTC)Trust is beyond the point.
Maketh huffs, dropping her head back down. "I will accept scotch. Good scotch."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 12:04 am (UTC)If there's anyone who deserves trust right now, it's Rita, who could far too easily kill Maketh then and there.
"Oh please, soldier. Like I'll settle for anything that isn't good? Chill out and stay awake. We still have a lot of waiting to do."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 12:16 am (UTC)She's not - god, she's really not - but Maketh allows herself to pretend for a moment. Just a moment, so this can be normal and she can breathe.
It's not going to be quiet for much longer. There's no telling what her uncle will do when he gets here. Maketh isn't sure he'll hold up his end of the bargain, either. He'll come - he's too proud not to - but after that?
Well, they'll just have to see.
Maketh grimaces, almost a smile. She likes this blanket. It's warm and heavy. "Rich girl has expensive tastes. Of course."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 12:39 am (UTC)It's weird to joke about it when you know it's true. Rita has only ever gone Romero once, back in their cell, and it was more than enough for her.
"I learned from the best." Or rather, the worst. The best at being the worst. That's her dad for you. "Is your uncle going to knock, or should I go peek every now and then?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 02:15 am (UTC)In another, less dire situation, she would have called him dramatic.
Maketh grimaces. "Listen. His name is Harper. He owes me a debt and he's the type to pay it, but nothing beyond that. He's been in this business longer than anybody else."
The business being a private military contractor, only Harper didn't have a company. He had family. That was a tad more dangerous.
"If he asks you anything, don't lie. Not even for small things. Do you understand?"
Maketh lifts her head to meet Rita's eyes. It's important this part go right. "He has rules. Don't lie and he won't hurt either of us."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 02:07 pm (UTC)"So what you're saying is, brutal honesty is okay."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 03:09 pm (UTC)She could keep going, shooting the shit with a very wounded soldier, but instead Rita goes quiet, checking her nails and poking Maketh now and then to make sure she doesn't pass out or die. The hour goes by slowly, the hunger at the periphery of Rita's awareness the entire time.
"If he's late, it means he's dead, right?" And what would they do then?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 04:24 pm (UTC)But there's a chance. The Imperials are thorough.
"Is the hour up yet?"
If it is, they'll have to move on regardless. Possibly break into a hospital or a morgue. If Maketh's people haven't used this safe house lately, there might be enough cash hidden for a few bribes. Enough to get a doctor to patch her up and possibly lose some human tissue samples.
Get up, soldier. Do what you must.
There's a noise outside. A truck pulling up. Then someone banging on the door. "Open the door. No guns."
The voice is rough and masculine, with a sharp accent. Harper.
Maketh exhales slowly.
"That's him."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 05:10 pm (UTC)When she opens the door, she steps back to give Harper room to walk inside. "No weapons." She lifts her hands as if to prove this, then motions to tye car. "She's in there. Still awake, hopefully."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 05:28 pm (UTC)He looks like her mother. That's the worse part.
Maketh shivers and doesn't sit up. Harper doesn't approach the car, only nods to someone at his side - a man Maketh doesn't recognize, but who carries a medic's quick-kit on his belt.
Harper eyes Rita up and down, then removes something in a biohazard bag. This he throws to Rita. "Who are you?"
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 06:12 pm (UTC)But she has been asked a question, and she needs to keep this from going badly.
"Maketh's cellmate. My name is Rita Du Clark." Now twll her she's free to go eat.
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