|Isabel||Sometimes, when going gets tough, the tough do indeed get going. Isabel Welsh has never pretended to be one of the tough, but she's also not one of the stupid. She's been noticing people watching her recently, and noticing them constantly at that. It has the hallmarks of organized surveillance.
She's gotten good at shaking tails recently, but she only has one place to live. They know to watch for her there. It's time to move house. Preferably a long way.
Via her internet connections, she's found a job offer for crew on a yacht. Maybe they need a video surveillance person? It /is/ a yacht, after all. But the only way to find out was to send a request for a meet to the owner, one Kristin 'Kris' Harris.
She's at the meeting place now, looking at hi-tops and feeling distinctly ill at ease. Her phone is in her hip pocket, and she's watching out for this unknown person. Kris's profile didn't include a picture.
|Kristin||The ad read pretty much as thus:
Looking for experienced crew to pilot this boat thingy. Must not be afraid of water. Must not be afraid of wild parties. Must have a good sense of humor and appreciate the occational pop culture reference. Must have seen at least two seasons of Dr. Who.
Kristin has never hried anyone for a yacht before on account of having never owned one until very recently. The legality of her ownership is a hotly debated conversation on /b/ too. Some people say she flat out stole it from an Umbrella executives stupid Personal Assistant.
Some say she's just an elegant internet assassin setting people up for the long troll.
She has a pretty big track record of DDOS attacks on websites to hijack them and turn them into the most offensively crude and base form of internet entertainment.
They call her ''The Mad Hatter'' on the internet.
Never click a link she sends you.
Kris is also in the Footlocker, currently in a heated discussion with one of the clerks regarding the absurdity of a company like Nike buying Airwalk to create second and third generation skate shoes with half the quality. "You're a fucking dumbass..."
And that's how Kris got kicked out of Footlocker.
|Isabel||Well, the person arguing with the clerk about shoes certainly has the internet demeanor of 'The Mad Hatter', right down to signature insults. Isabel frowns faintly at the thought of trying to approach the statuesque woman, but in the end hitches up the jeans she's wearing with her black and deep pink hoodie, taps the toe of a Doc Martin on the ground to seat it, shifts her laptop bag behind her, and steps out to deal with the trouble.
"Oh, there you are! Shame on you, cousin, keeping me waiting," she says, pasting on a plastic smile as she approaches the two, catching at Kris's hand. "How am I supposed to help you if you don't stay with me? Do I have to tie you to my belt loops?"
She gives the clerk a faux-grateful and genuinely embarrassed smile. "Thank you so much for putting up with my cousin. I'm sorry to put you through it. She gets away from me all the time."
Hopefully Kristin is shrewd and sharp enough to play along.
|Kristin||Kris balks a little at being thus attreated to such a potent attempt to cover her most glorious and ambitious of insults upon the Footlocker employee!
She really didn't intend for it to become a battle of words but then he had to go and say Airwalks were a shit shoe to begin with and the kids gloves had to come off! That is a universally bullshit statement in all regards, wholesale, completely.. and only an ignorant person would utter it so adamently!
It required retribution!
Kris turns her hazel eyes upon the caramel-skinned woman. Wide eyed... then narrow eyed. "Are you calling me retarded, cousin?"
|Isabel||"No, cousin, I'm calling you willful and irresponsible," Isabel replies, frowning in annoyance that isn't all fake. "Now, shouldn't we be shopping for those shoes we came to find? I'd hate to have to tell Mom that we're late because you went off on your own again." She hooks two fingers into the waistband of those baggy black jeans, about all she can reach, and tries to tow Kris away from the clerk.|
|Kristin||kris points a half painted black nail at the clerk, "To be continued, fucker." As she's towed away at a back-pedal. Once she's shared the unfortunate truth of an eventual rematch with the poor employee, she turns and steps up beside Isabel, "Guilty as charged." About being willful and irresponsible.
She posted a want ad for crew on a stolen yacht, afterall.
It is entirely possible she'll eventually be the antagonist in a movie about psychopaths in an all girl mental institution.
Until then; "I really don't want to buy shoes." She whispers, "You're Isabel?" Even if Isabel gave a codename, Kris is a hacker of no small repute.
|Isabel||Isabel at least guides Kris into the shelter of the shelves of shoes before she lets go. "I'm Isabel," she replies, sighing in relief. "How did 'Meet me here' turn into 'start a fight with the store staff about nothing'?" she asks, sounding bemused. And looking bemused, if that faint smile is anything to go by.|
|Kristin||"You'll learn that going anywhere with me is ultimately going to end in me in an argument with ''someone''." Kristin is aggressive, it says so in her file at Comcast. If you believe the guy who got choked up trying to field her complaints. "So, you know anything about boating or piloting a boat or just being on the water for longer than your typical pool trip?"|
|Isabel||"Not a bit; I'm a Colorado girl," Isabel replies. "The closest I've ever been to a yacht was a rowboat when I visited my real cousins. But I need to get out of the country for a while, you need help, and we're both 'netheads."
Geeks stick together, right?
"Besides," the dark-haired girl adds, smiling a little, "you also need someone on board who can put up with you. That's me."
|Kristin||"You're already sure you can handle me..." Kris tsks quietly and shakes her head, "I fear you're wrong and consider that kind of self assurance as a challenge." She's probably joking right? Nobody would set out to be a bitch would they?
"Okay, well I do need people like regular people on board.. but I feel like you're looking at this whole job interview like it's Starbucks, you haven't asked once what it is we'll be doing with the yacht."
|Isabel||"No, I'm just showing the proper respect," Isabel replies, shrugging. "You're the captain; I do what you tell me to do. I don't need to know much for that."|
|Kristin||"What if I intend to run drugs up from Columbia? What if I'm dick deep in bed with the Cartel and ultimately intend to turn my entire crew into drug mules?" Kris asks these questions with the most deadpan of faces, "Seriously, there's showing respect and just getting yourself in the middle of some bullshit. Don't get in the middle of bullshit, I don't care how cute the person leading you there is..." She self praises with a hand flip of her wavy white hair.|
|Isabel||"Well, aside from the obvious anatomical problem, there's another thing to consider: I need transportation out of the country, and you're the only person who can provide it," Isabel replies, a faintly haunted look coming into her eyes. "It's wait for Umbrella to do God-knows-what to me, or take a chance on you." She bows her head. "You've seen my videos? I posted them because I wanted to do what's right by a few hundred thousand people who were murdered for someone's profit. Someone's name was Umbrella, and they're a long way from done. What happened on that cruise ship recently was on them, too. I'm sure of it."|
|Kristin||Somber subject, Kris only has one way to approach such a serious topic;
"Yeah I saw them." She admits with a nod and a glance at her phone the buzzes the Power Ranger communicator tune, then looks up at Isabel, "I'm not saying it looked fake, but..." A little shrug.
"BUT, you pissed off a corperation and that tickles me a bit, so consider yourself hired. It doesn't pay very well, but you get your own room on a big ass yacht that may or may not have been stolen... I also don't have anyone who knows how to drive it, so we'll probably both die."
Snap point, "You've been warned."
|Isabel||"That was a very Doctor gesture. I approve," Isabel says, grinning. "But I'm no Donna Noble. More like Rose or Martha. But I can tell you one thing: Nothing I filmed was faked. I still have the scars from those days in Raccoon City."
She gestures to the front door. "Shall we? I suspect I can learn how to drive this boat of yours, given a lot of reading and a little practice. I'll hit the bookstore while I'm here."
|Kristin||"You just got your first raise." Kris assures, "Which means you might actually get some kind of pay..." Which is still not likely, but the thought counts. Kris pushes open the door for Isabel on a brisk Denver afternoon and pushes hair around the back of her right ear once she's outside the Footlocker. "Cool, ''yachting for dummies''... we're so fucked."|
|Isabel||"I'd settle for three hots and a cot at this point, so long as the cot's going overseas," Isabel confesses, holding the door for Kris. "At least space won't be a concern." It's a yacht, right? Those things are seriously big.|
|Kristin||"I think I got you covered on the cot end." Kris assures with a nod and another glance down at her phone when it buzzes again. Apparently she's a busy woman or some shit. "So are you really being tailed by the corps or are you just paranoid? Not that I care either way, I think you're a rockstar for fucking with them."|
|Isabel||"What's with your phone?" Isabel has to ask, especially since Kris isn't answering it. "I know I'm not paranoid, for sure: I've noticed the same people following me over and over. I've learned to lose them, but I can't keep it up forever. Taking a berth on your yacht is a good way to vanish for a while."|
|Kristin||"Booty calls." Kris says, whether she's telling the truth or not.
"Are they just your neighbors? I tend to not stray far from home as a general rule... and I often see the same people over and over." Her bag, covered in stickers and patches, is adjusted around to lay against her hip. "Okay, so essentially what we're going to do on The Life Hack is... go places we're not suppose to and do things that people, specifically powerful people, aren't going to like."
|Isabel||"No. I see them too often away from home, and always in the same combinations," Isabel replies. "And I've made it a point to always shop in different places lately. They always show up after a while unless I deliberately take pains to lose them."
She nods at the explanation. "I can live with that. You hack, I film? That's what I'm good at."
|Kristin||"Creeper material.." Kris says with a little frown and a glance around, "Any of them here now? Do need to act like I don't know you?" As if kristin is scared of being followed.
SHE STOLE A YACHT FROM AN UMBRELLA EXECUTIVE...
The woman is like a walking timebomb of anti-establishment.
"Sounds like a plan.. I was thinking we'd head to Paris for a little while too. Ya know, act like tourists, do weird shit to put on the internet so that the rest of the world hates Americans even more."
|Isabel||"I lost today's tail on the way here. I haven't seen any more." Isabel looks around again, just in case, but notices no more trouble. "Personally, I'd rather not be The Ugly American, but I go where you go."|
|Kristin||"We just met, but I already feel like you don't get me..." Kris says with a little frown, "You'll learn.. probably by trial and error... that I am an antagonist of the highest calliber." She nods assertively, "Which is not to say that I have any intention of sticking around if one of those little outbreak things happen.."
Her finger wiggles a little and she's still glancing over each shoulder as if she'd know what Isabel's tails looked like if she saw one, "You get wind of an outbreak, be on the yacht... because I'm not about that life and I wont stick around."
|Isabel||"As the token asshole said, it's not required that I 'get it'. You're the captain," Isabel replies. "So I go where you go. And I get it: No heroics. If there's an outbreak, she who falls behind stays behind."
She hasn't missed all the shoulder-looking, though. "Don't worry, if I see one of them I'll point them out."
|Kristin||Kris rubs at her nose with the curve of her thumb, "Good, it's important we understand that point, if no other. I will feel really bad about leaving you, but I will... I'll leave you." That could probably be some pretty awesome friendship building foreshadowing going on there. Hell, if this was a book, everyone would be screaming ''predictable!'' at the top of their lungs.
"Also good. I don't like surprises. If creepy stalker people come creepy stalking out of the woodworks, I'd much rather troll them than be startled by them. I tend to react to jump scares with unequal amounts of aggression."
|Isabel||"Trust me, I can make sure you'll get your chance to troll," Isabel says, smiling faintly and nodding. "I'm getting tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. Say the word and I'll set them up to follow me into a well-laid troll-trap."|
|Kristin||Drumming of the chin.
Kris shrugs a little and wears her best tight lipped smile, "We're going to get along. At least until you ultimately decide to be a hero and save some French kid who tripped over a jump rope running from god only knows what and I have to make the sacrifice..."
She reaches up and lays a hand on Isabel's shoulder, "You'll be missed..." Quietly, solumnly, regretfully.
"Alright, go pack your shit, we're leaving in... how long does it take to get a yacht filled with gas? Shit... I need to make enough money to get the yacht filled with gas..."
|Isabel||"Bookstore, home, pack. Got it." Isabel turns for the local Waldenbooks, not much worried about being sacrificed. She's getting the trip overseas she wants. Being sacrificed might be easier than putting up with Kris, eventually. "I can be ready to go in a few hours, but let me know if I need to wait?"|
|Kristin||"No, that should be enough time..." Kris says with a thoughtful nibble at her bottom lip, gazing around at her surroundings as if there's a money tree growing in the immediate vacinity and she just has to locate it for ample Franklin leaves. "Get ready, I'll get gas." ''It's what she does.''|