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.
Harper watches Rita for a long moment, eyes narrowed. The extraction details were clear. Two packages, one civilian and one badly injured, to be secured and moved. His niece had guarded his sister's favors jealously, and only called them in when she had no other choice.
But there was something interesting underfoot. This woman. The civilian.
Not harmless, Harper thought. Very far from harmless. He had a sixth sense about that sort of thing.
He whistles to the medic. "Sedate her. I want to move as soon as she's stabilized."
The medic, a quiet man named Bask, nods just once.
He gives Rita a thin smile. "What are you waiting for? Eat."
He's seen stranger.
"Oh, and Rita? It is Rita, isn't it? You and I are going to have a conversation when this is done. Try to be candid. I have a distaste for corporate jargon."
He's someone who has no time for bullshit, and for all that Rita is well versed in the slow dance that is dealing with businespeople, she likes Harper's style.
"It's rude to eat before your guests do, but if you insist."
It's not pretty. The brain is very much just a brain, flavorless to her, squishy. She eats it like it's a meat bun or something, using the bag for a wrapper to keep her hands clean. She hates it, but god is it satisfying. Just one bite takes the edge off, leaves her feeling more like herself, less tired, more willing to talk to a stranger who may as well be pure military.
"Fine by me. I have nothing to hide from you now that you've seen this." She gestures to him with the brain, shooting him a smirk that's less pretty than it would be without the blood on her lips.
While the medic treats Maketh, Rita eats half the brain and looks for a container to store the rest in. Now that she's something like a fugitive, she needs at least a small supply with her.
Harper's expression doesn't change. He's careful about that these days, controlling what people see. That had been his sister's mistake back in the day. Letting people get too close, see inside her. An awful mistake and even worse, one that could have been avoided. A true shame if ever there were. Now Maize is dead and he's left with his niece, who is, in Harper's mind, a poor replacement for the original.
No matter. He's been bored lately. This venture might prove to be interesting in the long run.
He watches Rita eat and hands her another biohazard bag when she's done. It will have to do for now. "Bask?"
The medic gives him a thumbs-up. Maketh hasn't died yet, and she's stable enough to move. Good.
Harper hums under his breath. "Get in the truck. We have a secure location. My niece bought you a ticket there and some supplies."
His smile is just the wrong side of mean.
"But, Maketh failed to mention the bounty on your head. I'm sure she simply forgot. Shock. That sort of thing."
Harper's eyes are pale and cold. "You must be important to her. Ah. That explains it. I'd hate to find I don't need you, Ms. Du Clark. That would be a true shame."
The extra he gives her, she puts in the container. Stock up, be safe. She's never had to do this before, prepare for the worst.
Then again, she never pictured her life going quite like this. Scratched, kidnapped, shot at, her only ally a soldier who has been sedated, leaving Rita with strangers.
Great.
Rita is ready to follow Harper to the truck when he mentions a bounty. Her slow-beating heart skips a beat, and her blood goes cold. A bounty. Someone wants her dead.
"I--" Don't lie. Rita is not going to lie. She takes a deep breath and tries again, her voice steadier where her eyes still betray that she had no idea about the extent of this. "I thought they'd be asking for a ransom, not a bounty."
"You are troublesome to people who don't like that sort of thing." As for Harper himself, he doesn't rightly care. If it weren't for Maketh, he wouldn't be here at all. "But you seem like a smart woman."
Harper tips his head to the side.
"I think you'll be useful to me. I think you'll make up for the money I'm losing not cutting your head off right here. A smart woman knows where her enemies live, doesn't she?"
And enough dirty little secrets to be used as blackmail.
Her hands tighten on thr container. Who put out a bounty on her? Fillmore Graves? Imperial Solutions? Max Rager? Probably not Max Rager, if only because inevitably that would lead to bad publicity, and they've dealt with enough of that in the past year.
Rita is a smart woman. Her father made sure of that. She might still look spooked, but she holds Harper's gaze as she nods.
"You don't succeed in business by being a good person."
Not all the time, anyway, and the richest ones are always the worst. Vaughn Du Clark is the perfect example.
Harper laughs at that, eyes flashing bright. He could come to like this one. "Right you are, Ms. Du Clark."
She'll do. If she finds a way to screw him over, then that means she'll be clever enough to keep track of a little longer. Harper has been bored lately. He could use a distraction.
"I've arranged some housing for you," he continued, conversationally. No more talk of beheading. "Something more to your standards, I should think. I'm feeling generous. I haven't seen my niece in several years."
For all that this has gotten a lot more dangerous than expected, Rita can at least fall back into her more usual dealings. Coversation, schmoozing -- easy things. Now that she's fed, she'll be okay.
"I have more respect for people who don't bullshit." She follows him to the truck, glancing back at Maketh once or twice. "She'll stay with me, won't she? We've gotten close. I promised to buy her a drink."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
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.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 07:47 pm (UTC)But there was something interesting underfoot. This woman. The civilian.
Not harmless, Harper thought. Very far from harmless. He had a sixth sense about that sort of thing.
He whistles to the medic. "Sedate her. I want to move as soon as she's stabilized."
The medic, a quiet man named Bask, nods just once.
He gives Rita a thin smile. "What are you waiting for? Eat."
He's seen stranger.
"Oh, and Rita? It is Rita, isn't it? You and I are going to have a conversation when this is done. Try to be candid. I have a distaste for corporate jargon."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 09:14 pm (UTC)"It's rude to eat before your guests do, but if you insist."
It's not pretty. The brain is very much just a brain, flavorless to her, squishy. She eats it like it's a meat bun or something, using the bag for a wrapper to keep her hands clean. She hates it, but god is it satisfying. Just one bite takes the edge off, leaves her feeling more like herself, less tired, more willing to talk to a stranger who may as well be pure military.
"Fine by me. I have nothing to hide from you now that you've seen this." She gestures to him with the brain, shooting him a smirk that's less pretty than it would be without the blood on her lips.
While the medic treats Maketh, Rita eats half the brain and looks for a container to store the rest in. Now that she's something like a fugitive, she needs at least a small supply with her.
"Ready whenever you are, Harper."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 10:10 pm (UTC)No matter. He's been bored lately. This venture might prove to be interesting in the long run.
He watches Rita eat and hands her another biohazard bag when she's done. It will have to do for now. "Bask?"
The medic gives him a thumbs-up. Maketh hasn't died yet, and she's stable enough to move. Good.
Harper hums under his breath. "Get in the truck. We have a secure location. My niece bought you a ticket there and some supplies."
His smile is just the wrong side of mean.
"But, Maketh failed to mention the bounty on your head. I'm sure she simply forgot. Shock. That sort of thing."
Harper's eyes are pale and cold. "You must be important to her. Ah. That explains it. I'd hate to find I don't need you, Ms. Du Clark. That would be a true shame."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-26 12:43 am (UTC)Then again, she never pictured her life going quite like this. Scratched, kidnapped, shot at, her only ally a soldier who has been sedated, leaving Rita with strangers.
Great.
Rita is ready to follow Harper to the truck when he mentions a bounty. Her slow-beating heart skips a beat, and her blood goes cold. A bounty. Someone wants her dead.
"I--" Don't lie. Rita is not going to lie. She takes a deep breath and tries again, her voice steadier where her eyes still betray that she had no idea about the extent of this. "I thought they'd be asking for a ransom, not a bounty."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-26 02:28 am (UTC)"You are troublesome to people who don't like that sort of thing." As for Harper himself, he doesn't rightly care. If it weren't for Maketh, he wouldn't be here at all. "But you seem like a smart woman."
Harper tips his head to the side.
"I think you'll be useful to me. I think you'll make up for the money I'm losing not cutting your head off right here. A smart woman knows where her enemies live, doesn't she?"
And enough dirty little secrets to be used as blackmail.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-26 03:12 am (UTC)Rita is a smart woman. Her father made sure of that. She might still look spooked, but she holds Harper's gaze as she nods.
"You don't succeed in business by being a good person."
Not all the time, anyway, and the richest ones are always the worst. Vaughn Du Clark is the perfect example.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-26 03:40 am (UTC)She'll do. If she finds a way to screw him over, then that means she'll be clever enough to keep track of a little longer. Harper has been bored lately. He could use a distraction.
"I've arranged some housing for you," he continued, conversationally. No more talk of beheading. "Something more to your standards, I should think. I'm feeling generous. I haven't seen my niece in several years."
no subject
Date: 2017-01-26 02:37 pm (UTC)For all that this has gotten a lot more dangerous than expected, Rita can at least fall back into her more usual dealings. Coversation, schmoozing -- easy things. Now that she's fed, she'll be okay.
"I have more respect for people who don't bullshit." She follows him to the truck, glancing back at Maketh once or twice. "She'll stay with me, won't she? We've gotten close. I promised to buy her a drink."
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: