starsmisalign (starsmisalign) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-08-05 15:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | celeste henry, ~summer rhoades |
Stand-Off
Who: Summer Rhoades, Celeste Henry
What: Misunderstanding
Where: Searchlight
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: Low-ish, threat of violence
Summer had reached a gas station between Cal-Nev-Ari and Searchlight, which had been good news for both her rumbling stomach and her needy bladder. But as soon as she had set foot on the property, the phone that had been left with her buzzed with a message: It wouldn’t be sporting to leave you completely alone out there, find a weapon and some cash in the trash bin next to gas pump number 5.
Sure enough, Summer had found a revolver and an envelope with $5,000 cash.
On the one hand, it was incredibly suspicious. The man who told her he wanted her dead was giving her money and a gun? Summer had scanned the entire lot the station sat on, but none of the other three people there paid her any mind. Not even a cursory glance. They were going about their lives.
On the other hand: gift… horse. A mouth in there somewhere.
So after doing what she needed to do -- and buying herself some easily transportable snacks (including a bag of candy corn, and don’t think she forgot the glare the store clerk gave her for it) -- Summer finished her trek, the revolver tucked into the waistband of her jeans, well hidden by her bulky hoodie..
Once she had reached the gas station, Summer had ditched the Broadway tunes on her music player. As great as they were, she needed to have all her senses in-tune. After all, the last thing she needed was her would-be killer to get the jump on her because she was too busy reveling in the fast-paced lyrical stylings of Daveed Diggs.
Summer’s calves were killing her by the time she reached Searchlight, which was… this was a town? For someone used to cities, this was beyond culture shock. Searchlight almost looked like a place out of time.
Stuffing the half-eaten bag in the pocket of her hoodie, and pushing aside her music player, Summer shook her head. She swore she could hear a tumbleweed that wasn’t actually there.
Celeste had begun feeling restless. It had been a while since she had gone shooting. While there were a few decent-looking ranges in Las Vegas, her current weapon was unregistered and she didn’t want to fork over her identification to rent one of the range’s own firearms. So, Searchlight was perfect, really. Walk a few hundred yards in any direction, and one found themselves completely alone. She could set up some makeshift targets in the desert.
The brunette had been on her way to do this when she spotted another woman walking up ahead. The hoodie-clad person was obviously distracted, because an eagle-eyed Celeste spotted a small object fall from her pocket, onto the ground.
By the time Celeste had caught up, they were out of sight of the gas station. She knelt down to scoop up what she realized was a small music player. Standing, then half-jogging toward the other woman. “Hey!,” the brunette called.
Summer’s heart leapt into her throat when she heard the voice calling out to her. At least, she thought it was her. Who else could it be? Summer sprinted the short distance to the nearest building, noting how all the windows were dark before pressing her back straight against the wall.
She peered around the corner, didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Of course, it was so damn dark and her eyes hadn’t adapted like they normally did. Maybe it was the fact that she was so on-edge. Wishing she still had the knife that had once called her ankle home, Summer cursed under her breath.
The firearm, it was.
She scooted further along the wall she was using for cover, pulling the revolver out from under her hoodie. It felt entirely too comfortable in her hands, her years of experience made holding a gun second nature by this point. Summer preferred long-range weaponry, but beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers right now.
Summer peered over the corner again, barely catching a glimpse of another woman. She frowned, because this didn’t appear to be another assassin. Then again, Summer didn’t look the assassin type, either.
Emerging from behind the building, Summer kept the gun at her side. Still in her grasp, but not ready to fire quite yet. Her frown deepened, because… where did the other woman go?
“Hello?”
Some long-buried remnants of intuition burned in Celeste’s stomach when she witnessed the woman run off like a spooked horse. She saw her vanish behind the building of an abandoned business. She took a second to deliberate and set off for the opposite end, the goal being to approach the woman from behind.
As she made sure her footsteps were as quiet as possible against the sand and brush, Celeste’s blue eyes caught the sight of the weapon in the other’s hand. Slowly, the brunette reached into her cross-body bag and pulled out her Glock 19. The weapon would remain at her own side, however. No need to point the pistol yet and escalate the situation.
“Turn around slowly,” Celeste called out.
Glancing over her shoulder, Summer rolled her eyes when she saw the gun in the other woman’s hand. But it was at her side, much like Summer’s own, so there was still a chance to get out of this unscathed. The hard ground crunched under Summer’s shoes as she gradually turned to face the other woman. She kept the grip on her revolver light; at this point, simply having it in her hand was enough.
“Shoulda known the gun and the money were too good to be true,” she muttered, biting back a smirk.
Given how often Summer had found herself in the presence of others packing heat, and how many times said heat had been pointed her way, she thought she would’ve been used to it by now. But the nerves were still there, and she still had to suck in a deep breath to keep her hand steady.
So she hadn’t lost that bit of humanity yet. Which was nice.
A brief look of confusion passed over Celeste’s face. The money? “Why did you run?” she asked, an obvious tone of paranoia and suspicion in her voice. She had been spending quite a lot of time in Searchlight lately, and the town was tiny. She had yet to see this woman around, plus she was wearing a hoodie in August, in the desert. Something was not right.
“You dropped something,” the brunette added. In her free hand, Celeste revealed the media player. “Now...are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“You startled me,” Summer lied with a smirk, but the expression died when she saw the media player in the other woman’s hand. Her free hand reached into the big pocket in the front of her hoodie, finding the candy corn bag and nothing else.
Well… shit.
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and embarrassment, Summer put the revolver in her waistband again before putting her hands up and gingerly approaching the other woman. Making sure to maintain eye contact, she reached for the music player.
“Would you believe me if I said I got left on the side of the road and had to hoof it just to get here?”
“Stop!” Celeste’s eyes narrowed. The woman could be angling to get close enough to wrestle her own semi-automatic away from her, and that was not going to happen. “I’ll toss it to you.” She kept her word, the device sailing between them, into the hand of the other woman.
“I might believe that,” the brunette conceded. “But why? Did you piss someone off?” Celeste herself had been in some dicey situations, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Especially not in this area.
She’s as paranoid as me, Summer thought. Interesting.
She kneeled to grab the music player, wiping the dust and sand off the viewscreen. Wrapping the headphones around the device, she made sure it still turned on before stuffing it into her pocket -- in her jeans this time. “Thanks. A lotta the stuff on here was a pain in the ass to get.”
Summer then stood, her hands still up and in full view of the other woman. She wondered if she’d be able to draw her weapon and get a shot off if it came to that. Considering the confidence with which the other woman was carrying her gun, she doubted it. Which made it all the more important to not give her a reason to pull the trigger.
“Guess you could say that,” Summer said, chewing on her lower lip. Lying wasn’t exactly one of her strengths, so when worse came to worse, she was better off just being vague.
“This is the last place you want to be, then.” Celeste gave her the advice that someone probably should have told her, the month before. She carefully took in the woman standing before her: taller than Celeste by a few inches, precise in her movements, and obviously tired. Judging by the state of her clothing and footwear, her story of walking to Searchlight checked out.
The next question was more measured, and the brunette watched her face with a discerning expression. “Are you a cop?” It wouldn’t be entirely out of the question, although that revolver definitely didn’t look service-issued.
Summer couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her lips before clearing her throat and making sure her hands were exactly where they had been before. After all, the other woman still had her at gunpoint. There was something else, too, and Summer had to squint before she noticed the dark marks on the other woman’s neck.
She kept quiet for now, though, because for all she knew, this woman could’ve given as good as she got. And Summer didn’t need getting got.
Cop wouldn’t be a bad idea, though, were Summer actually in the game of hiding her appearance and creating new identities for herself. Sure, it was illegal, but so was killing people. Just slum it somewhere as a detective -- definitely not a uniformed officer, because those outfits looked really uncomfortable.
Not that Summer was a paragon of fashion, but she knew what she liked. Dress blues with ties and funny-looking bats weren’t on the list.
“Definitely not,” she offered. “And thanks for the tip, but this is the closest thing to civilization I’ve found since being… dropped off.”
Yeah, not a cop. That laugh said it all. Celeste kept studying the woman in silence for another moment, before speaking again. “There’s a motel a few miles from here,” she informed Not a Cop. “El Rey. They take cash and don’t ask a lot of questions. It’s small, quiet enough so you would hear anyone coming.”
The brunette didn’t know what this woman had gone through. But it wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together. “You were dropped off in the desert? It sounds like someone is playing a not-so-friendly game with you.” Mafia, maybe.
“That’s one way to put it.” Summer glanced over her shoulder, a professional habit more than anything, because she couldn’t hear anything outside the woman who was talking to her. “Always thought games were overrated. Odd as it sounds, I actually prefer this.”
She nodded to accentuate her point, eyes trained on the gun still directed at her. The nerves were still there, but less frayed than minutes before. Something told Summer that this wouldn’t be the night she finally ate it, provided she didn’t do or say anything stupid within the next few minutes.
“I’m Summer,” she offered, even as her brain cursed at her for it. Her eyes fell on the bruises on the other woman’s neck again. “And I really hope whoever did that got what was coming to them.”
She recognized that backward look. Celeste slowly, cautiously lowered her gun. “Well, looks like we have something in common, then.” An eyebrow raised when a name was offered. That didn’t seem very smart, the brunette thought critically, but if she was going to stick around the small town, it was bound to be learned anyway. “Celeste.”
Her free hand went up to her throat. “This? This was a...misunderstanding.” She gave Summer a wry look. No need to let the cat out of the bag about demonic possession being a weeknight activity in Searchlight. Then, her head tilted slightly. There was something about the way Summer spoke, acted, and that bubble of intuition she had felt earlier popped up again.
“No one’s got your six, do they?”
“I’ve got my six,” Summer answered practically on instinct, her hands still up even as Celeste lowered her gun. “Hasn’t let me down yet.”
Sure, some help from someone she trusted would be nice. But Summer didn’t actually trust anyone, and the fact of the matter was, hers was a solitary vocation. Assassins weren’t in the business of making friends. It made for a hard life in a lot of ways, a lot of nights where all she had were a cold drink and an even colder bed, but it beat the alternative.
At least, that was what Summer told herself. She believed it, too. Most of the time.
The phone in Summer’s pocket buzzed. She almost reached for it before remembering the woman across from her. Sure, the gun wasn’t pointed at Summer anymore, but Celeste still had it in her hand. Whatever the latest message was, it could wait until Summer had found somewhere to settle for the night. Much as she hated the thought of being… well, here... she wasn’t sure what choice she had.
Mostly because she didn’t know what was around here.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the closest patch of civilization?”
Celeste smiled at that. She was pretty sure that she had said those exact words, at some point in her life. She nodded her head in the direction behind Summer. “Keep heading north down this highway. You’ll find what passes for a ‘downtown.”
What happened next? Would she stand there and insist on Summer moseying along under her watchful eye? Celeste didn’t believe the woman meant her any harm. She was too busy running from something.
“There’s also a Denny’s, attached to a little casino.”
Wow. A Denny’s. A passable slice of 21st century Americana.
But considering Summer couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an actual meal -- mostly because she had no concept of time from the moment she had first been tossed into that van -- she wasn’t surprised that her stomach gurgled at that exact moment. Assuming her killer wasn’t masquerading as a waiter or a fry cook, she at least had a warm plate to look forward to.
Were luck on Summer’s side, she could use the casino to build her $5,000 into something more. But luck was never something she could count on, so for the time being, Summer figured she’d make what she had work until she could either get more or whoever was after her found her and money would no longer be an issue.
Summer nodded once. “A regular Vegas,” she muttered with a smirk.
“The fun never stops here,” Celeste fired back, smiling. This was a weird way to meet someone. Confident and hard-edged previously, the brunette now found herself feeling awkward. “So, um. Try not to drop anything else, and...enjoy your pancakes?” A shrug of narrow shoulders followed.
“Thanks?”
Summer turned -- slowly, because hello, gun -- and began walking in the direction Celeste had pointed her in. She mulled over what the other woman had said about the fun never stopping here -- here?! -- and, deciding it was just an attempt at being neighborly (as neighborly as one could be while holding a gun), dismissed it out of hand.
So the first person Summer met in the desert wound up holding her at gunpoint, but not because they had been hired to kill her. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was better off holing up in a hotel room until this all blew over; either whoever was after her would give up or they’d come right for her and they could just hash it out for good.
This game was sounding less and less fun by the second. It was one thing to assume everyone was trying to kill Summer just because; it was another thing to actually stew over it because someone made such a threat implicit.
Remembering the phone, Summer dug it out of her pocket to check the message that had been left.
The middle of nowhere can be your best friend or your worst enemy… your choice.