Hitchhiker [TragicTrees & Killjoy]

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Killjoy, Jun 4, 2016.

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  1. @TragicTrees
    Juan (open)

    Name: Juan Garcia

    Age: 26

    Gender: Male

    Looks: Messy dark brown hair, olive toned skin, freckles, dark green eyes, about 5'5 in height, not a full on beard but had some stubble

    Outfit: white tank-top, pale green short-sleeve cotton shirt which is unbuttoned, black jeans, black hikers boots, black beanie hat. He usually also wears a silver half-heart friendship necklace, but who from is unknown.

    Personality: Juan is almost always in a constant state of annoyance. He's also rather impatient, and over all, not really a great person to work with. It's mostly why he works alone on everything. He can be grudgingly nice, if he feels bad or you guilt trip him, which is surprisingly easy considering he murders people.
    He's a diligent worker for short periods of time, but if it takes too long, he'll get bored and his work ethic will begin to fade. The end product will be a lot less nice than if he took it in small strides. This really ends with him not doing research on any of his victims other then reading what he's given.

    Lenny (open)

    Name: Len Miller; now that he's left his old life behind, he freely expresses his vehement dislike of the nickname "Lenny".

    Age: Twenty-six

    Gender: Male

    Looks: 6'2'', filled out and with slightly broad shoulders. Not a remarkably large man, though he has a presence. Caucasian. Blond hair with the bangs ruffled or slicked back from his eyes. They're a pretty shade of blue, but there's something cold and empty about them. Dons rectangular-rimmed glasses when he needs to do paperwork or seem more unassuming. Clean-shaven.

    Outfit: Will not forsake his businessman look; white button-down shirt with a tie and slacks, as well as a metal wind-up watch. The pinnacle of normal, allowing him to blend seamlessly into mainstream society. However, he looks out of place in shadier city districts.

    Personality: Calculating and callous. While Lenny occasionally surrenders to darker impulses, the majority of his life is spent in a state of "controlled" rationality. Meticulous. He likes organization, neatness, and punctuality. Comes off as perfectly polite and charming to the witless (which, to be fair, is most normal people). His absence of fear enables to him to undertake questionable tasks.

    Lenny shuffled along the roadside, looking like a corporate zombie with a briefcase held in one hand and the other slack at his side. He was drenched in rain. If this won him any sympathy points from passing vehicles, they didn’t show it, speeding past the man towards a distantly glowing city.

    Lenny’s eyes were alert but empty as they watched cars go by. It was a game that he often played with himself to kill time; the silver van was ferrying kids back from soccer practice. The rusty clunker behind it was hurrying to her night shift at McDonalds. The mud-splattered Jeep was returning from an out-of-city hunting trip. They probably had a shotgun in the back seat. All people, all going places. He was going to be late if one of them didn’t pull over soon. His fingers tightened around the briefcase handle at the thought.

    Traffic hit a lull. The distant rush of cars and rain occupied dead air like radio static. Shirt plastered to him, Lenny shuddered, cold but anticipatory. He'd left his umbrella behind on purpose. He'd left a lot of things behind on purpose.

    Now, if only it would pay off.

    As if on cue a set of headlights came bobbing over the hill behind him, casting an electric glare onto the road. The man's shadow grew long on gravel. Perfect timing. He stuck his thumb out in the standard pick-me-up gesture and hoped for the best, water dripping from his outstretched hand.
  2. Kill this guy. Kill the other guy. Kill the lady in the already-red dress. Kill some random guy off the street, obtain a valuable organ, repeat. That's what Juan did, all he ever did, and probably all he'd ever do. Find, kill, repeat. A shitty combination, perfectly fit for a shitty life.

    Well, what felt like one. He had a nice apartment. He had a nice car. He had nice clothes, and he had a nice cat. He had almost no right to complain. Almost. He had a little leeway, considering his job, and he used it. Boy, did he complain. To coworkers, to his cat, and, more often than not, to himself. That's just how it was.

    Right now, he was working. It wasn't all that surprising. He sat in a black compact car, one hand on the wheel, and the other hand also on the wheel because he wasn't a fucking idiot. He did, however, have a gun, located right next to him, handing off of the loop of his belt. He was looking for some hitchhiker to get and kill, so he could get the cash from the various organs all humans were bound to have. In the back seat sat a cooler, filled with ice and small bags, along with a few knives to carve up the body. A change of clothes was in the trunk, and, for comfort, the radio was blasting Call Me Maybe. He wasn't expecting much success today.

    Wasn't was the key word, because he soon found a guy. He couldn't believe his luck. He pulled over the car, one hand rolling down the window, while the other sat comfortably on the gun.

    "Hey!" He called out, trying to sound cheerful, which he wasn't "Need a ride? Well, I know you do, but want this one?" He flashed a hopefully-convincing smile at the guy, reminding himself he only had to keep this up for a few more minutes.
  3. Gravel popped under the vehicle's tires as it hugged the shoulder of the road. It was a nice car-- and would net, Lenny suspected, a much prettier price than past ventures. No sooner had his pulse given a visceral lurch than it settled back down to the emotional stillness of a snake eyeballing its prospective meal. He smiled his salesman smile as the driver rolled down the passenger side window and invited him in. A man. Too bad. He liked to keep the genders of his victims equal, and the counter currently was not, but that was a problem to be rectified at a later date.

    "If you don't mind the company. I'm drowning out here." Lenny palmed back his rain-soaked hair, tone pleasant and quivering from a suppressed laugh. It belonged anywhere; neighborhood barbecues, the water cooler at work, on the other end of the phone innocuously offering accounting services and financial advice. From his periphery, he attempted a quick scan of the car's interior as he reached for the door handle. It was too dark to discern anything unusual. Not that the unusual posed a problem. The dripping wet stranger maneuvered himself into the car. It didn't smell like cigarettes and fast food, so it was already an improvement from the last car he'd entered.

    Hey, I just met you sang the radio as he sat down. Hey indeed. Lenny placed his briefcase on his lap and quietly thumbed the latches open.

    "Sorry about the mess," he said. "I hate to do this to the only person who bothered to stop, but..."

    At first this seemed in reference to the excess amounts of water leeching out of his clothes. The meaning changed when he produced a Beretta pistol from inside the briefcase and leveled it at the head of his charitable driver.

    "Well, you bothered to stop."

    No witnesses on the road meant no time to waste. Lenny's eyes watched callously from behind the trigger.
  4. "...Well, shit." was the first thing Juan said, polite manners dropping in a instant. No, it wasn't from the fact that the other had a gun. It was from the fact that he was ALSO holding a gun up, and that it felt odd to have someone else doing the same thing at the same time "This is awkward." He noted, though still kept the handgun up, as he wasn't about to put his only weapon down "Seriously, fuck. Do you think we can reschedule this? I'm not ready for a shitty Mexican show-down in my car."

    In all honesty, he wasn't sure whether or not he could shoot the soaking-wet man sitting across from him before he was shot himself. Though, at the same time, he wasn't all too worried. They were probably evenly matched, considering the circumstances; both were in a small space and had guns. He didn't see any way someone could have the upper hand here. If they sat like this too long, though, it would probably attract the attention of people, and, in turn, the police. And that was not a good idea. Juan grimaced a bit. Either he shot the guy now, or they both put their guns down. He wasn't too sure which option would go over better with the other man.

    "Look," He began, finger still on the trigger just in case, "I'd rather the police stay away from me, so how about we talk something out here? Seriously. While I was SUPPOSED to get a job done, I don't think you're the one I want to get it done with. "
  5. The car's atmosphere turned into something Lenny was more used to-- but still not what he was expecting. In the absence of the usual screaming, panicking last moments was upbeat radio music. He blinked and stared into the barrel of another gun while keeping his finger hovered over the trigger of his own.

    "Job..." he echoed tonelessly, a parrot with the emotional capacity of a lizard. He didn't dare take his eyes off the driver to check the back seat, but the other man's words gave him a rough idea of what he might find there. The Beretta pistol remained trained on the driver like some all-seeing black eye. "That's very considerate. I hope I'm not making you late for anything."

    Rain pattered off the car roof, blurring the world beyond the windshield to an incomprehensible muddle occasionally streaked with light. Seconds passed. Nothing changed. It was hard to tell if Lenny was thinking or just waiting.

    "...How about this? I'll lower my gun if you keep driving. I'd love to talk, of course, but not parked on the side of a highway."

    Lenny's voice indicated that he would, in fact, not love to talk, but he'd love a police cruiser spotting them even less. His eyes were still fixed on the driver. He had to wonder what would happen if this man died before he could complete his job. He didn't particularly want to come into possession of a car belonging to a hitman, because hitmen generally worked for someone, and he didn't much care to meet them. Evading police was one thing. Evading pissed-off crime lords was quite another.

    Good grief. What a pain.
    #5 Killjoy, Jun 5, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 5, 2016
  6. "Love to talk, huh? Color me suspicious." Juan grumbled, running his free hand through his hair. He didn't lower his gun quite yet, instead waiting for the other man to get to it "Well? I'm only driving if you throw that thing in the back, pal. Go on." He urged, getting a bit impatient.

    If he didn't get back with something soon, he'd have his boss chasing after his OWN ass. He couldn't kill this guy, though, and that was a pain. Well, he could, it's just be a lot more life-threatening than he originally wanted this to be. He wasn't keen on taking the chance, but he also wasn't keen on not handing over what he was supposed to at the appropriate time. He'd have to figure out something, and it would have to happen fast.

    The situation was almost comedic, though. Two men, sitting in a black car on the side of the road. Rain is pouring down upon the car. Some Avril Lavigne song plays in the background as the mentioned men point guns at each other. If Juan wasn't part of the situation, he probably would've laughed at how absurd it all was.

    It wasn't something he was used to, because it just didn't happen often. Maybe this was why people were warned against hitchhiking, or taking hitchhikers. That would make sense, since both could possibly be murderers. That was clear in this situation at the very least. It also showcased how much of a idiot Juan was for deciding to pick this guy off the side of the road.
  7. As per request, Lenny slowly lowered his gun, watching to make sure that the driver was doing the same before clicking the pistol's safety on and tossing it into the back. It sounded like it hit something plastic. Refusing to remove his eyes from the driver, he could not ascertain what.

    It was strange, he decided, that for once he found a person more interesting alive than dead. Enough to stall his regularly scheduled acts of homicide. Discarding his weapon ran counterintuitive to his entire life up until that point-- leaving behind a stable job and most of his personal possessions, drifting from town to town, killing whoever happened to cross paths with him --and for what? To end the night with a bullet in his brain?

    Maybe. For some reason, however, he doubted it. Lenny clicked his briefcase shut and rested his hands on top, finally breaking eye contact with the driver to instead look out the windshield.

    "What happens if your job doesn't get done? I've always been curious about how that works."

    Logistically, the crime-film cliche of killing underlings who made mistakes made no sense, because then they had to worry about body disposal and finding a replacement, but he guessed that the consequences were still unpleasant.
  8. On seeing that the other man's gun was gone, Juan placed his own on his belt, sighing a bit to himself. That was certainly better. He started up the car again, maneuvering it back onto the highway. It was also nice to be on the road again. Since he had nothing to deliver, he set a rout, mentally, back to his apartment building.

    His eyes flickered over to the sopping wet man in the seat beside him for a few moments, thinking over his question for a while, before shrugging. He didn't really know, and that was why he didn't know what to answer. He went off onto another road, taking a moment to get a proper response.

    Eventually, he found one. "Eh, dunno. Don't get paid, probably have my apartment ransacked or something, who knows?" He said nonchalantly "To be honest, I'm more focused on making sure I get the money than anything. Not the best guy to ask. Never missed a date, don't plan to." He paused, before adding "My turn. Who the hell are you?"
  9. It was hard to gauge due to his blank expression, but Lenny listened-- or, at least appeared to listen --to the driver's explanation. He turned his head just enough to glance at his fellow would-be killer

    "Len," he replied when prompted for his identity. "You know, you're doing me a favour by driving. If you're not going to shoot me, perhaps I could assist you by finding a replacement. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with your employer."

    This was, of course, assuming that the grumbling man beside him would not have a sudden change of heart and decorate the car's interior with his brain. Lenny's thoughts urged him to do something and seize control of the situation. Instead he smiled his pleasant salesman's smile and awaited a verdict.
  10. That wasn't actually too bad of a deal, if Juan were honest. He did need some organs, and he needed them quick. Doing that on his own would be a little difficult. The pros of the situation were that he had help, and the help was probably not idiotic. The cons are that the help was also psychotic. Well, he actually wasn't too sure about that, but he assumed the guy- Len, as he had just learned -was. He didn't seem to be doing any of this for a job, and Juan couldn't think of any other reasons he would do it. As far as he was concerned, though, the pros outweighed the cons on this one.

    "Juan. And, uh, that'd actually helpful. It'd be more helpful if I knew where the fuck I was driving you, though." He responded, getting off the highway and slowing down at a red light. He took the moment to run one hand through his damp hair from walking to his car earlier "Where do you even live? I need someplace to go here."
  11. Lenny kept his eye on the distant city, no longer so distant as their car traveled along. There were people behind them-- the moment for shooting each other in the head passed along with a speeding minivan, who inevitably hit the same red light as everyone else. Poetry.

    "I'm not from this state. So a hotel, I suppose." He glanced over, reminded by Juan's dry clothes of the sodden state of his own. He considered apologizing before remembering that this particular driver had been prepared to splatter his brains all over the seat. Water was vastly easier to clean up.

    "...Anyways," Lenny said and looked back out the window at the flocks of pedestrians. "What sort of person are you looking for?"

    He already had a pretty good idea-- the same type of person he sometimes looked for. The easy prey kind.
  12. "Healthy. Quick and easy kill. Shit like that." Juan mumbled, although it was in a distracted tone of voice, as he was paying more attention to the road than anything else. Dying because of a car crash would be the lamest thing ever, considering his job and life in general "And how'd you get here? Jesus fuck. Why didn't you just stay in your own damn city? Or state, for that matter."

    Even he wouldn't do that, and he'd do a lot for a decent income. This guy didn't even seem to be doing it for money at all. That confused the hit man beyond anything else. Everyone had a motive, right? He hadn't been able to pin-point what this guy wanted out of all of this, but there had to be something. He left his state, and it appeared almost everything he owned, and people didn't just do that for shits and giggles. There had to be a reason, and it was going to keep Juan up at night this week if he didn't figure it out.
  13. Most of the pedestrians fit the bill. There were numerous unforeseeable variables, of course. That woman in three-inch heels could have a can of mace in easy reach. That man crossing the road could by afflicted by some sort of blood illness. Not that it was important-- the victim couldn't be anyone on such busy streets, anyways. A pity there hadn't been any more hitchhikers out and about.

    "People say you should quit while you're ahead. So I did," Lenny replied, turning his head to better scope out the intersections. "I've met quite a few drivers since. Although, none of them had guns."

    Or cars, or lives anymore. Loose ends and all that. Lenny tapped his fingers on top of his briefcase as he watched people hurry through the rain. "Perhaps we should try a quieter street. Someone would look into it if these people went missing."

    He didn't mean just because the street was busy; there were a lot of business people. Important folk. They couldn't be killed on a whim, as he knew, or else police would poke around for them.
  14. Juan sighed "Ugh. We wouldn't be able to get someone killed in here anyway, though. All the seats are taken." He replied, a little annoyed as he was just realizing this himself "Unless you have another way to get this done, we're in a bit of a pickle here. I could get it done tomorrow, but that'd be last-minute."

    He did hope that the other man had a better plan, because he himself sure didn't. He didn't really have plans, unless he knew he'd need them. This went unaccounted for; he just assumed he'd get someone first try, and not some guy he couldn't kill. He probably should've made plans for if he couldn't just pick up some person to kill, but it had worked so well the other times that he thought he had it in the bag. Obviously not.

    Now, he could kick the guy out and be done with it, but he wasn't too keen on that either. He felt that help would be nice for once. It took a long time when he was on his own, and getting it done faster would, over all, make him a little happier than he usually was. He'd actually get some free time for once, and that would be a blessing. So, no. He wasn't about to kick the business man out of the car, but at the same time, he needed a new plan to get a new person.
  15. Lenny stared down urban corridors as they scrolled past his window, the night shift crowd clogging up the road with their vehicles. Pedestrians were just about walking faster. He kept an eye on the side streets, noting down the further they extended the more spaced their streetlights were, and the more these streetlights tended to flicker or in some cases cease functioning altogether. The budget side of town.

    "May I suggest we turn down one of these?" He turned his head and blinked at Juan, rivulets of water still running down his face. He didn't seem to care just then and gestured to a side street. "There's no guarantee we'll find anyone, but a quick look couldn't hurt."

    And if they did, it'd be much easier to abduct someone off a dimly-lit side road. Lenny refocused on the world outside Juan's car. "If we do find someone, they can sit in the back. They'll only be there for a couple seconds. Although, I might have to ask that you let me grab my gun. There's no sense in arming them."
    #15 Killjoy, Jun 8, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 10, 2016
  16. "Yea, yea. Jus' don't shoot me and all that and we'll be good." Juan mumbled absentmindedly, turning down one of the roads mentioned. It was a safer bet than the street, he had to admit, and, while he didn't trust Lenny, the man had a point about the gun, so he'd allow that too. Hopefully it wouldn't come back to kick his ass. "Tell me if you spot anyone that doesn't look like a COMPLETE hobo, alright?"

    He also looked around, but, due to driving the car, he couldn't glance too much. He still had a fear of crashing the car, if he were honest. It was kind of funny; he was a guy who murdered people for a living, and yet he was afraid of that. It was a logical fear, at least. He wasn't afraid of the sun or anything like that. Car crashes were common. He wasn't too afraid, either. He just wouldn't be taking his eyes off the road at any point soon.
  17. "Of course," Lenny replied, craning around and using the passing glow of street lamps and stoplights to locate his Beretta. His hand bumped up against the organ harvesting supplies before locating it. Flicking the safety on-- which he hadn't had time to do several minutes ago when he and Juan nearly shot each other's heads off --he returned to a normal sitting position. He withdrew a neatly folded hand towel from his briefcase, resting the pistol top it while drying off his face and hair. Playing the part of a poor rain-drenched businessman who had forgotten his umbrella was half the trick to getting picked up. However, when it came to in turn luring someone else into the vehicle, being visibly soaked might raise suspicions.

    Ruffling slightly-less-wet-than-before bangs from his eyes, Lenny watched the sidewalks. The buildings flanking them grew increasingly older and more graffiti-covered, vacant parking lots connected by chain link fences and defaced signs informing people about the fines associated with littering. Given the amount of trash lying around, Lenny guessed nobody read them. He evaluated pedestrians as Juan drove past them. Too many people in that group. A couple drug dealers doing what they did best. A lone woman, but some people on the other side of the street who would surely see her get dragged into the car. A homeless man. Rain continued to pour relentlessly down. Lenny leaned his head back against the seat.

    "It's too bad this car doesn't look like a taxi."

    Another lone woman-- no, wait, she had a couple school-age kids scampering beside her. More homeless men. Good grief, this street had a poor selection.
  18. "Taxi's look awful. I wasn't about to drive anything like that." Juan replied, stretching his fingers a bit as he spoke "See anyone yet? Because if not, we might have to try a different road. This doesn't seem to have anything useful on it. Or anyone useful."

    It was points like there were Juan hated his job. He had to go out of his way to bag a person now. That took up more time, which took up for energy, and made him, overall, a less-happy person. Then, there was the mountain of things that could go wrong. You could get caught. You could get killed. You could fail to find people. You could meet up with another murderer(Check on that one). The past could come back to haunt you, in the form of the police following whatever bread-crumb trail you accidentally left behind right to you. Overall, everything was risky, and nothing could be considered a fun, joyful time.

    He hadn't expected that when he got the job, though. He just needed the money. He wasn't looking for a exciting time, he was looking for a decent income. He could get a job, but going to college was too expensive, and the other jobs he had gotten interviewed for denied him. So, he was stuck with this, and hadn't tried to get out of it. Besides, it made a lot more than working at a fast food joint, and that was pretty good.
  19. Mouth twitching like he was amused by Juan's comment, Lenny continued scanning the sidewalks for potential 'donors'. He wasn't totally surprised that they were so empty given the poor weather. It was late, and most people had already scurried off to their homes.

    "A different road might be a good idea," he agreed, seeing yet another group of people pass by and convincing himself to be a rational human and not just open the window and shoot them. There were only three. It would be stupid and impulsive, but not particularly difficult. Lenny glanced away instead of entertaining these thoughts. "There's always me if nobody else comes along. Although, I'd be glad to help you out another night. Not a fan of debts, you know?"

    Besides, he had no real reason for being in the city. It was simply another stop on his endless road trip across the country. He'd be around for a little while, then gone again. Might as well fill that time with interesting activities. Whether that activity ended up being killing someone or being killed himself and having his organs packed in a cooler was still up in the air.
  20. "At this point, I'm not gonna kill you." Juan replied, pulling off onto another road "Plus, you have a gun, kinda stupid to even try it. Yea, if this doesn't work, you can help another night. I have room at my place where you can stay, though you might need to take the couch and all that."

    This was probably a horrible idea, considering the circumstances. This guy was another murderer. He had a gun. He could decide to murder Juan in the night or something. Somehow, the hit man doubted it, though. Either way, it was a bad idea, and yet, here he was, offering it. It was too late to go back on it now, or he'd just feel rude. Even being a murderer himself, he had some sense of politeness and manners, and even with a gun who almost shot him, he'd be....somewhat well mannered. Somewhat. He'd probably still get annoyed and curse a lot, but he wouldn't take back offers. That'd just be shitty.
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