summerrhoades (summerrhoades) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-08-02 20:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~summer rhoades |
Drop off (No Pick-Up)
Who: Summer Rhoades
What: Character Introduction
When: Nighttime
Where: Just south of Searchlight
Rating: Mild language
A black van, marked in nothing but rust and faded paint, tore north along US-95.
Having passed a dusty sign for Cal-Nev-Ari and found a stretch of road where nothing was visible going either way, the van pulled off the road, slid through the dead grass along the side and shuddered to a stop. The front tires bounced like basketballs and the rear of the vehicle swung back toward the road. When the van finally came to rest, smoke billowed from under the hood.
Summer Rhoades heard the rear doors swing open before feeling thick, meaty fingers grab her by the shoulder. She couldn’t see anything – not because the night sky was providing little light, but because she had a sheet draped over her head. So when whoever had grabbed her tossed her to the ground, she had no way to brace herself.
Even in the dark, Summer saw the stars before her eyes when her shoulder hit the ground. It was hard and dry, and she coughed at the dust that had managed to get under the sheet. She heard something else hit the ground beside her before she felt the binding on her wrists give way and the sheet yanked from her head.
Then the van doors slammed shut.
Another door shut, quieter than the last two, before the van peeled off into the night. The tire squeal against the worn pavement gave way to the fading engine before Summer was surrounded by silence.
With a huff, Summer rolled onto her back, grimacing when her shoulder balked at her. It wasn’t dislocated, but it would certainly bruise. The grass around her was dead and brown, and if the ground beneath it was any indication, this place hadn’t seen any rain in… weeks? Months?
She supposed knowing where here was would’ve helped, but no such luck.
Noting the star-filled sky, Summer grunted into a sitting position. Her navy blue hoodie was already covered in dust, and her black hiking boots were now a strange shade of brown. Brushing herself off as best she could with her good arm, Summer glanced at the ground around her before catching sight of a smartphone on the ground.
It wasn’t her phone, and Summer found herself frisking herself in hopes that some of her personal affects had been in her pockets. As expected, she was without her wallet and her phone. But her digital music player was in her left rear pocket, so she had that going for her.
Reaching down for her left ankle, Summer grunted when she discovered the black band just above her foot empty. So was the belt around her waist, which had previously housed one of her favorite firearms. So no knife and no gun. The fact that Summer was unarmed was not surprising, but it was high on the annoying meter.
Summer snatched the phone, staring at a black screen with nothing but a white circle with a triangle pointing to the right under it. Pursing her lips, and glancing over both shoulders, Summer stabbed the triangle with her finger.
The black faded away to reveal a completely bald man in black-rim glasses staring back at her with a thin-lipped smile that seemed to reach all the way to his ears. There was no telling how much his suit cost, and it appeared as if he was sitting on a stage.
Ah, hello there, Summer. So glad to see you’re awake.
Summer blinked. Had she lost consciousness? The last thing she remembered, before being stuffed unceremoniously into that van, was being on assignment in Seattle. The man on screen had been the one who hired her, even though they had never met face-to-face. Pre-recorded videos like this were his preferred method of communication, which had been just fine with Summer.
He had given her two weeks to complete her task, and Summer suddenly realized she could no longer remember who her target was. The money had been quite good – the man in the video had paid her half up-front, and even with just half the agreed-to amount, Summer could’ve easily taken a few years off.
And yet… something had gone wrong. When she was first tossed into that van, Summer had assumed her target had caught wind of her presence. Killing someone was always easier when they had no idea you were coming. A few of Summer’s contemporaries had called her a coward, but her checks cleared just the same – and she had avoided the life-altering scars many of them had to deal with.
The sneer on the face staring at her made Summer think things were worse than originally thought. Her thumb stabbed the screen again.
You told me the job had been completed. You gave me your word.
So where was the rest of Summer’s money?
So why do I now find myself in Sebastian’s crosshairs? Hm? I hired you specifically because you could get results without drawing attention. Now… not only did you not kill Sebastian, but he now knows I hired you to do the deed!
Sebastian, Sebastian… why did that name sound so…?
Summer rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Oh, balls…”
Sebastian had been her target. A target she had not only not killed, but she had personally decided against killing. Somewhere along the way, she had discovered that Sebastian was related to the man in the video. Whereas that man had told Summer Sebastian was an international arms dealer who was dangerously close to giving nuclear-grade weapons to some country halfway around the world she couldn’t pronounce or spell, the fact was Sebastian was the man’s son… and most decidedly was not an arms dealer.
In hindsight, lying to this man was clearly not the best idea. The one-two of assassin cardinal sins: no dead body and misleading the person who had ordered the hit in the first place. Summer knew of assassins who had been killed for far less than this, while she sat in the middle of… well, wherever the hell she was, hunched over someone else’s phone.
A man should never fall at his own son’s hand, Ms. Rhoades. Now… to show you I am nothing if not a sporting chap, I have an offer for you. If you’re watching this, then you’ve probably been dropped off wherever my minions decided to leave you. Now don’t worry, I turned off all of this device’s tracking and location features, so I won’t be coming after you.
Summer rolled her eyes, because somehow that wasn’t as comforting as he probably meant it.
I have, however, hired someone to find you.
“Seriously?” Summer said to the night sky. “Your answer for an assassin who didn’t do their job is to hire another assassin?”
If, in one month’s time, they have not located you or you kill them, you get to keep the rest of your money and I will consider the matter settled. But if they do find you, and for some reason, you spare them… well, let’s just say I’m a stickler for the agreements I make.
Summer wondered who was being sent. Would it be someone she knew? Was this man that devious to send one of the assassins she actually got along with after her? Did this person even know where she was? That would’ve been a nice trick, considering she didn’t even know where she was.
Would it be Sebastian?
Summer laughed off that suggestion, because there was no way. The Sebastian she had briefly interacted with, who she had been tailing, would never even hurt a proverbial fly. Though the way the man in the video talked, perhaps Sebastian had a layer to him she had missed. Or maybe the reality of his own father having hired someone to kill him under the pretense of… why would the man lie about his own son like that?
Nothing the man in the video had done made sense. Summer had clearly done a poor job vetting this man before accepting his job offer. Either that, or he had been that good at covering his tracks. Summer wasn’t sure which reality unnerved her more.
Standing, Summer brushed more dust off herself before letting the rest of the video play through.
I really would hate to lose someone like you, Summer.
The tone with which the man said that sent a cold chill down Summer’s spine. As did the realization that anyone she met for the next month was possibly the person meant to kill her. Being tossed out on her own like this, with no idea where she was… she already hated meeting people, but that was just cold.
Then again, this was a cold business.
No matter. The rules are the rules. The man checked his watch. Oh, dear… I’m sorry, Summer, but I must be going. The missus and I have tickets to Baker Street, and if I yammer on any longer, we’re going to be late.
Remember, Summer… one month.
Good luuuuuuck…
The video froze on the man’s grinning mug, a far more menacing sight than his thin head and wrinkles should’ve allowed. Summer pocketed the phone with a sigh, shaking her head as she dug the music player out of the other pocket. Untangling the headphones was more trouble than it was worth; Summer should’ve invested in those Air Pod things, even though she was still convinced she would lose them.
Glancing through the playlists, Summer managed a smile. At least this was actually her player. Putting the buds in her ears and swiping through one of her favorite playlists, Summer paused to look down the road in both directions. The terrain was impossibly flat, and there were no landmarks of which to speak.
No street lights. No gas stations within sight. Just flat land giving way to still night.
Summer began walking in the same direction the van was going when it dropped her off, pressing the play button on her music player. Engrossed in the notes pouring into her ears, and keeping her eyes trained on the ground, Summer missed the small sign letting her know she was just eight miles from Searchlight.
What kind of man would want a job like that?
What kind of putz would squeeze your nuts like that?
Who could be prick enough?
Mentally sick enough?
Who’d want to grow to be
Everyone’s enemy
Critics are hated and so excoriated tell me
What kind of man would want a job like that?