Beginnings [Makayla ST]

Makayla
A closing shift at the speedway concession stand on a Monday night was better than going home. This place paid their employees above the national average and all she had to do was make sure her apron wasn't covered in mustard and she changed her gloves when she went from the register to the hot dog bun bin.

This time of year business was slow. She could get away with working forty hours a week during the summer but labor laws weren't so lax when she was supposed to be in school.

Makayla Waltz is one of the more popular of the speedway's employees. She stands five-foot-four and has brown hair that a combination of sunlight and chemical assistance has turned to flax. She keeps it braided Star Wars-style so she can cover it with a baseball cap when she's behind the register. Between the fact that she has a pretty mean right hook and has the foul mouth of a merchant marine she has plenty of admirers. Thus far in her high school career it has helped her procure cigarettes and alcohol and time down in the pit.

She's supposed to be mopping the floors right now but Makayla is pretty busy watching a couple of girls from her AP Economics class call each other names on Facebook and waiting for Jerome to text back about whether he's coming over later. Hashtag priorities.

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"Hey, Makayla."

That was a familiar voice. Bev was her manager- a rotund woman who smoked a pack a day easy and didn't seem to mind that she was working with a teenager. She hadn't found anyone who was willing to work Mondays and the kid did come in and do her job. It was something to be proud of, to say the least. Bev rarely had to, if ever, ask Makayla to get off her goddamned phone and pay attention to the people coming up to the register. No, she figured the kid wanted to be here during the week, so she took pains to be sure that she could get her there during the week.

It gave Bev some time to fuck off, to say the least.

Bev's husband ran the joint, which meant that she was the one who held all the keys. Mister Marley couldn't be fucked to show up at any given time, so he had handed most of the speed way's day-to-day operations to the woman with the weathered face and the Tom Waits voice. She had a business to run here. So there she was, preparing a hot dog (no mustard, extra saurkraut) so she can go back and start balancing out the books for the evening. It was getting to the end of the night. She'd have to send Makayla home soon unless-

"You sweet talkin' those dumbasses in the pit tonight?"

meaning: are you going to take a few laps around the track at the end of the shift.

Makayla
Even if she knows deep down Bev doesn't give a shit if she catches her hunkered behind the soda machine firing off a text message it doesn't mean Makayla doesn't startle at the sound of her manager's voice. Standing where she is means she can see the registers and throw her phone in her apron if someone comes shuffling up to order. That hasn't happened in nearly twenty minutes and there's only so much she can clean without wondering if her skin is going to fall off.

So her phone is back in her apron before she can finish hounding Jer. He's been answering her with emojis lately anyway. That means he thinks he's being cute. He isn't cute. He's a pain in the ass.

"Hey," Makayla says over-bright because she just got busted slacking off. Puts on gloves so she can start peeling up the floor mats.

You sweet talkin' those dumbasses in the pit tonight?

"You know it."

Meaning: Yeah the money's nice and all but if you want to cut me early I sure as shit ain't going to protest.

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"Ehhhhh get the fuck out," she said with a smile, the kind of smile that indicated that her command to get the fuck out was born very much of a loving go be a kid, it's still an early night place and not a place of actual ire. Bev, as far as Makayla had seen her, never actually lost her temper. She was always a lot-laying level of cantankerous that most people presumed was angry but, really, was just curt.

She was too old to deal with bullshit. Too old to put up wioth people who were incompetent, and too old to purposefully go out of her way to make her employees miserable. YOu keep the good ones, and keeping the good ones too late often meant they might not want to stay for much longer. So, you let them go like it's a Disney song and call it good.

"I'll cash you out and we can close the stand early. Jake's been dying to talk to you since he got on shift tonight."

Jake was new, you see. He was another one of the guys who worked in the pit but he was a little jittery, a little hard to handle at times but he seemed to be a decent enough guy. Just a guy who probably took too much meth at one point and never really came down. That or he mainlined Red Bull and he just couldn't be bothered to come down. He was one of the last guys to be working tonight. The other was the guy who got him on at the speed way- Cass. Cass was short for something, but he never bothered telling anyone. One of the old pit guys called him Cassie and came to work with a broken nose the next day.

Cass had a temper, but Cass kept to himself. Seeing Jake on was actually a surprise; who woulda thought that Cass actually had friends?

Makayla
Before she can get both hands gloved up Bev gives her permission to get the fuck out of here. The girl's eyebrows lift up but there's a hopeful cast to her gaze. An early out on a Monday night isn't anything she's going to scoff at. It's rare that they ever have events this early in the week. If it gets too much slower she's only going to be able to pull weekend shifts. Weekend shifts don't do her any good.

She almost expresses her gratitude. And then.

"Jake's here?"

About the extent of Makayla's mother's contribution to the cause has been telling her that she doesn't want to be a grandmother before she's 40. Makayla's grandmother was a grandmother before she was 40. That seemed to be the curse of the Waltz women. But Brenda Waltz had told her granddaughter that men are only interested in what's between her legs and it's a badge of honor for Makayla to have made it to 18 without a missed period.

There's a reason Makayla prefers not to go home after school.

"... is Cass here too?"

Makayla could handle Cass. He'd made her cry one of her first days working here but she was fifteen then. By now she had a callous. A Cass callous. Jake she was still working into her paradigm.

Didn't matter. Getting the fuck out.

"Thank you so much, Bev, you're the best. I'll see you on Wednesday."

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Bev didn't have children.

If Bev did have children, she didn't talk about them, save for maybe to complain that they don't call enough. Bev, all things told, wasn't really even that fond of the fact that she had a husbanmd but she did love the speedway and they were born in a generation where you didn't get a divorce. Ever. One of you went out in a blaze of glory and until then you just hoped you were the one who didin't die.

"Yeah, Cass has been stayin' late this week. Said he has some certification exam coming up or some shit. I don't care, he said he'd pound on the office door when he left," she shrugged.

Bev laughed and gave Makayla a dismissive wave, "yeah, yeah, I'm the best. Remember that int he summer when you're workin' doubles on a Tuesday, okay?"

Makayla
She can't help it. She hasn't applied to any colleges. She might just enlist at the end of the school year. Go off and get paid to work on tanks and shit. For all she knows though she'll still be here at the speedway in June looking for work and not knowing what she wants to do with her life.

So Makayla can grin the sort of grin only teenagers and the terminally innocent can pull off and not look like they're being a smart-ass. Genuine gratitude for a positive interaction with another carbon-based life form. Makayla has no idea what suffering is.

"Okay," she says. Deal. She unties her apron and stuffs her baseball cap into the pocket. Transfers her phone into the ass pocket of her black jeans. She's out of here. "Bye!"

And with an enthusiastic wave and a swipe of her time card she's off to the pit.

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The track was always pretty well lit and the pit was manned by only two people this time of evening. Jake and Cass.

Cass was a big man who had all of his teeth and a scar that ran low acroiss his throat. Said he'd gotten in in a bar fight but, realistically, he shouldn't have survived whatever that scar was saying. There was motor oil on his hands as he waited for a stock car to come careening through needing service. It wasn't going to happen. Everyone was on the final lap and the crowds were already starting to go home long before the race had actually ended.

For now, it was just Cass and Jake and Makayla. Jake wasn't a bad looking guy, his skin was a little sallow and his eyes seemed to focus on anything but the person he was talking to. Nervous, nervous was the best way to describe him, if nervous could have a physical personification. His wrists were thin. He clenched his jaw  when he was nervous but, for now, he was actually just busy talking to Cass.

He had a nice smile. For all his faults, the dark haired man with the slender build had a nice smile. Maybe not in appearances but certainly in content. He didn't seem the type to be born for malice, but he was a little more naive than he let on.

"Hey, Makayla," he said, bright smile. Sat up higher, straighter, "wanna see if they'll leave one of the cars tonight? We got an engine overhaul coming up."
"Do you want your girlfriend to fuckin' explode on the track," Cass grumbled, "besides, we can't stay late. There's business."
"What kinda-"

Cass gave Jake a hard look, then looked at Makayla, "Bosds let you out early?"



Makayla
Business.

She could zone out so hard in the middle of English class when she was supposed to be paying attention to what her essay was supposed to be about but the second someone behind her says something that's none of her damned business it's like Hitchcock levels of zoom-in on her attention.

This is none of her damned business. She can tell it's none of her damned business. She doesn't want to incur too much of Cass's wrath.

"Yeah," she says and adjusts the weight of her knapsack where it's slung over one shoulder. "We were pretty slow tonight. What kinda business?"

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"Cass is negotiating a raise," Jake said, idle and brainless like the straw man he was. Didn't think too hard about what kind of business there was going to be. Besides, Makayla was nice. Makayla was also pretty and she was there and she seemed interesting and he would have given anything his a little speed-addled brain could think of to get her to notice him for more than ten minutes.

"Figured I'm overdue," Cass said, though.... Makayla wasn't stupid. Jake might not have been very bright, but he seemed to believe that Cass really was talking about getting a raise, but the man exhaled hard, took a few steps to the side and waved a smoking car in. The driver was done for the night, finished fifth and could have very well made a decent bit of cash for the night- enough to probably cover the damage he did to his freaking car.

The drivers didn't usually hang around to talk to the pit guys. Especially if Cass was there. The lanky cowboy behind number 47 was happy to toss Jake the keys and give Makayla a wave, "don't kill my darlin', Bess does me better'n my ex wife ever could."

It made Cass laugh, but it was a short lived thing.

"Figured I should get the standard bump."

There are things that Makayla knows- knows that people get a raise once a year for cost of living, a small percentage and it's back along. Bev didn't get out raises willy-nilly and Cass has been here for... five years? All she knows is that it wasn't his anniversary, so that standard bump? Sure as shit wasn't happening in November.

Makayla
Plenty of things in life Makayla can figure out by virtue of her intelligence and her curiosity. Experience can't make up for everything else. Understanding jokes about marriage for example. She knows better than to laugh when the cowboy makes a joke about how his ex-wife did or didn't do him. Just because it was an objectively funny joke didn't mean it was appropriate for a teenage girl to cackle at the laconic wit of a guy who was old enough to be her father.

A scoff of a laugh is the most she musters.

Cass figures he should get the standard bump.

"Oh," she says. She chews her lower lip like it's only just now occurred to her that Bev doesn't usually shuffle her off this early. Something else must be going on. Which means she is faced with the question facing the modern girl raised by television:

What Would Veronica Mars Do?

"Well, how late is 'can't stay late'? Do I have time for one lap?"

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"Sure you got time," Jake chimed in. It made Cass give him a hard look in comparison.

There is an awkward moment where the two of them exchange glances. Cass was an intimidating man, objectively one could say that given his size and his sheer presence. The man gave the impression that he got what he wanted, was accustomed to getting what he wanted and that Makayla taking a lap around the track was not what he wanted.

Except, of course, Jake was oblivious to the fact that his friend was terrifying. He either knew and didn't care, or didn't know and was just the right kind of oblivious that there was no counter to it. The things we do to try and impress a girl, and this was one of those things.

"She doesn't have time," Cass reiterated.
"C'mon, her top time last time was- what was it? You can take a lap in under ten? It's just ten minutes," Jake reminded Cass.

Cass seems to think about this before he frowns. A harsh expression, "you can take five but you better not fuckin' crash. That's it. Then I'm closing up."


Makayla
If she had a little notebook for occasions like this Makayla would have totally jotted down that Cass wasn't happy about this and Jake was oblivious to the unhappiness. Maybe not right in front of them. That would have taken balls and an obliviousness of her own. But she totally would have written it down later and used it as further evidence if this was in fact something that she ended up sticking her nose in.

At the very least it's giving her a chance to hone her feminine wiles. Jake may end up being a stalker junkie rapist with a string of priors in other states but right now he just seemed like a bit of an idiot.

Cass thinks she doesn't have time. She doesn't bother giving the pouty eyes to Cass. Jake though. He gets the pouty eyes and the slight nod of agreement. Of course she can take a lap in under ten minutes. It's the Westminster speedway not the Indy 500.

When Cass relents she curbs her enthusiasm. Can't quite contain the grin that bursts forth but she knows better than to act too happy about anything in front of the old codger.

"Five minutes. I won't crash. You'll barely even know I was here. Thank you thank you."

And then she's tearing off to stash her knapsack and gear up.

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Five minutes and she wouldn't crash.

Jake seems happy enough with this fact, gives her a smile and a wave while Cass is picking up a beat up jansport backpack to head on his way. Probably to go... somewhere. He was continuing along his way, the young dork oblivious to the fact that somethign may be going on.

Or, perhaps, just too caught up in the moment to have his head in the came. Cass elbowed Jake in the ribs hard, enough that it brought him back on track. They were headed off to the concession stand, content to let Makayla do whatever it was that she wanted to do. She was going to be out of ear shot for five minutes, better do this fast. Right?

[want to roll me a Per+alert?]
Makayla
[perc + alert!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )

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Looking towards the concession stand, she could see Bev walk out and fold her arms across her chest. There wasn't much that she could see, but from the distance it looked like Bev was... waiting on Cass? Maybe?

Something does catch her attention, though, and it's a glint of metal at the back of Cass's pants, tucked into his waistband. Maybe it was a wrench? Or something? Pit guys could carry all sorts of tools with them, who cares where they put them, right?

Makayla
It catches her attention but she's caught up in the charade of pretending to go to retrieve a go-kart so she can take a lap around the track. She has done this a hundred times if she's done it ten but tonight is the first night Cass or anyone else working in the pit has tried to hustle her out of here.

Come to think of it Bev has never suggested she leave early either.

One lap won't hurt anything but for the first time since she first strapped on a helmet she can say that something more interesting than a race against her own time has presented itself. She gets into the go-kart and waits until Cass and Jake have left the pit before she begins the task of sneaking back to the concession stand.

Surely they won't notice her.

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Makayla Waltz is a good kid. When she shows up to work, she shows up and she works. She calls out when she is actually contagious and doesn't want to give people at the speedway her gross germs. When she says that she's going to do something, especially when it is something that people know she likes to do, she doesn't dick around more than the average girl her age.

So, when she says she's going to go a lap around the track, nobody thinks anything of it. It gives her plenty of cover to go and sneak up on the concession stand.

Bev practically drags Cass and Jake inside, quick to shut the door behind her but the place is a little popup building. Makayla can hear them through the shitty window unit AC, can likely even see in if she positions herself right. Someone's pacing, by the sound of it, it's probably Cass.

"It's three grand now and the rest when it's done Cass, I ain't goin' back on our deal."
"And I ain't goin' back- I'm pulling a lot of fuckin' weight for you, I brought a lot of business for you, and you think a measley three grand is worth risking my parole?"
"Yeah, having a bunch of hood rat n-"
"You ain't fuckin' complained when you get your cut at the end of the month."

Bev mutters something, and Makayla can smell cigarette smile coming from the inside of the place.

"Why don't we just do that?" Jake offers. God he sounds hopeful, "you got good insurance on the place-"
"'cus he won't be dead without a guarantee and do you wanna fuck with Marcus when he finds out he can't deal here because you two fuckin' rednecks wanna torch the joint?" Cass laughed. The sound was harsh.





Makayla
Of course Cass had put the fear of God into her right away but it had nothing to do with the rumors going around about him or his appearance. It was because he was a surly bastard who was good at giving intimidating speeches. Now that she hears about his parole from the man himself Makayla fears him a little more than she fears God.

The rest of the conversation doesn't do much to assuage that.

She strains to hear what Bev is saying. Catches what Jake says without a problem. Her eyes go wide and while before she had been peeking through the window that question and Cass's answer has her ducking back down so the air conditioner conceals her.

Some guy named Marcus is dealing something here and the three of them want someone else dead. This spying thing suddenly seems like a not-so-bright idea but she doesn't leave yet. It doesn't sound like they're done.

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"We shouldn't have been dealing with Marcus in the first place, dude!" Jake all but squeaks that out.
"Just wait until he gets here and then we'll handle it, two birds and one fuckin' rock," Bev replies, that hacking cough comes up so one can presume that she's the one who is smoking.
"Like you ever risked your neck for-" Cass started before he was interrupted.
"Didn't I fuckin' take care of that private dick who came around snooping for you, huh? The one from Reno?" Bev snapped at Cass. "Three grand for the bullshit I deal with because of you is more than fair."

There's a long silence, and Makayla can see him reaching into his waist band to retrieve a wrench. Holds it tight. Can see Jake look between Bev and Cass but the man takes a swing at her with the wrench. The sound that it makes when it connects with the side of her skull is a  sickly, wet sound. She goes down before she has a chance to really push back against the man, but he doesn't stop swinging when she goes down.

Jake is protesting. Trying to pull him back, but it doesn't do any good-

"What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Has to look like a robbery-"
"What the fuck do you think this is?! You're gonna kill her!"
"Three grand-" he swings "-isn't fuckin' enough for shit."

He walks away, leaves Jake to stand there with the body while Cass exits the concession stand and heads to the main office.







Makayla
Instinct says to scream. That's how primates evolved to let other primates know of a predator in the area. Humans though. Humans still scream but in situations like this screaming will alert the predator to a teenage girl's presence and that teenage girl doesn't think he'd kill her but she also didn't think he'd hit Bev with a wrench either.

She starts to scream. Then she claps both hands over her mouth and drops down into a crouch. Even crouched down and stifling her own panic she can hear what's going on in the concession stand. Can hear the wrench each time it connects. It isn't until then that she thinks she ought to call someone and has no idea who to call.

As unsupervised as her childhood has been and as much fucked-up shit as a person can see on the Internet these days Makayla cannot say as she has ever heard the sound a blunt object makes when it collapses a person's skull.

Oh shit. Cass is moving. Where is he going. Makayla wants to stay crouched down here until she's sure they're gone but they might catch her. She's too shocked to cry. She wasn't raised up to be a crier anyway. Screaming is her first instinct. Running away is her second.

But Bev was her boss. She was kind to her. Makayla has yet to encounter evil in her life and if she has she wouldn't have been able to recognize it. Doesn't mean she's had a windfall of kindness either.

Makayla is close to hyperventilating as she fumbles her cellphone out of her back pocket and starts to dial 911.

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Jake: Did I hear that? +1 diff (OH MY GOD CASS JUST ASHJKSAJ)

Dice: 4 d10 TN7 (2, 2, 6, 7) ( success x 1 )

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Cass: Did I hear that?

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

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There is the sound of someone fumbling with something in the concession stand. There's a big drain in the middle of the room so there is a solid chance that someone could just hose the place out when this goes down. There is a lot of stuff that is wrong with this scenario and the reaction Makayla was having, while probably not condusive to the survival of someone who is hiding, is a completely understandable one.

Inside of the concession stand, she can likely hear the vestiges of Jake trying very hard not to freak out, but now he's an accessory to what might be a murder and things are going from bad to worse

"911- what is your emergency?" replies a confident female voice on the other end of Makayla's phone.

She can see Cass pause in his determined stalking towards the main office. She notices him turn, and notices that something does seem to catch his attention enough that he is headed back her way.

Makayla
As Cass turns Makayla gasps and clutches the phone tighter. Only remembers to grab onto the strap of her bookbag when the body of it thumps her in the kidney as she half rises and ducks around the other side of the concession stand.

She brings the microphone to her mouth but her throat seizes.

Her current emergency is that her mind is racing as fast as her heart is and she's afraid that if she tries to speak someone is going to hear her. All the dispatcher can hear is rapid breathing.

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[doobeedoo- they taught me first aid at Job Corps]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )

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[Cass: something is fishy]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4) ( fail )

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"Ma'am?"

There is the steady approach, it feels almost like being pursued by some unseen force. Except the force is very much seen. The force is over six feet tall and weighs about twice as much as Makayla does and just caved a woman's head in with a fucking wrench.

There's the sound of rusting, of a second body leaving the concession stand at a very hurried pace.

At about that time she sees him round the cover, looking for something but... as though fate was kind, or by the grace of a very large trash can, Cass seems to miss Makayla's presence entirely. There's a slight sweat on his brow but he doesn't seem ruffled by this in the slightest. There's still Bev's blood on the wrench.

Makayla
When she speaks it's in a harsh whisper. Enough of her voice in the whisper for the dispatcher to tell it's a young adult on the line.

"He..."

She peeks around the corner as little as she can to catch as much of him as she can. Her palms are slicked with sweat and the phone shakes in her hand. Not until she spoke did she realize her mouth tasted like pennies.

"He hit her, he hit her with a wrench and she's not moving... I don't know what to do, help me, please..."

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[Jake: Because I need to find Cass and hopefully not Makayla]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )

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"Ma'am, what's your location? We can dispatch units immediately-" because the voice is calm. The voice is collected. The voice knows what she's doing because this is what a dispatcher's job is. Sure, she might not know the full situation "-are you in a safe place?"

This is about the time that quickened footsteps are coming up, looking around. Jake is tall and lanky but he has pretty eyes and actually seems to have done something with the nervous energy. There's blood on his shirt and on his hands and he locks eyes with her for a second, stands like a deer in the headlights like he doesn't know what to do for a second.

Makayla
And Makayla locks eyes with Jake because her extremities have just about stopped receiving blood and the higher-functioning levels of her brain aren't faring much better. She's frozen in place because she isn't sure if Jake is a threat or not and she's shaking and it's obvious she's on the phone with someone. She's holding the microphone to her mouth but the receiver is pointed away from her body because of how high she has the receiver volume set. She doesn't want to have one of her ears occluded by a phone right now.

"Jake," she says and holds the phone against her chest, "please don't hurt me, I--I didn't see anything, I just... I just left my keys in the office..."

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[Evens and Jake being an idiot standing there doesn't get Cass's attention!]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )

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He has his hands up, looks at her like he doesn't know what to do and he looks around quickly. There's panic on his features; Cass doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight and (presumably) headed back to do whatever it was that he was going to do in the first place.

His eyes go to the office quickly, and he heads closer to her. He doesn't seem to mean her harm but that's a hard sell when you're covered with blood and you were just talking about murder earlier.

"You can't go to the office-" he insists "-Cass is there."

Makayla
Doesn't matter if he means her harm or not. Makayla springs to her feet and holds the phone like she's prepared to whip it at his head if he comes any closer. Eyes wide and they flick towards the office when he says she can't go in there. That Cass is there.

If Cass is there that means he's not paying attention to what she's doing.

Makayla slips the other strap of her bookbag over her shoulder so she doesn't lose her calculus homework and turns to sprint in the opposite direction.

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Jake does not pursue. Jake does not pursue in the slightest because he's pretty sure that he doesn't want to get hit in the head with a phone and perhaps he seems to realize how in over his head that he is.

She is sprinting in the opposite direction, off making her way across the grounds and Makayla hears what appear to be the steady discharge of a revolver. The rest of it doesn't matter.

--

There are always places that one can run and get out of. Makayla knows the park pretty well inside and out. She knows where she can slip through the cracks, knows the exit that some of the other guys in the pit take in order to go back and smoke and get to their cars so they can park closer. The exit isn't hard to find, but it's not one that is particularly convenient for people who are, say, at the front of the park.

True to form, she manages to get her way out, can run and do what she pleases. Exits and smells trash and the leftover motor oil people never really bother to throw away correctly because fuck having one planet we're only alive once.

--

This is not the story of Nergal, though he plays a vital role at one point. Ereshkigal could not attend a banquet held by the gods and sent her vizier, Namtar, her stead. The other gods paid him the heed that a vessel of the queen of the deadlands was due- all save Nergal, the plague god.

For his insolence and disrespect, he was banished to her realm to learn to respect the Queen of the Great Earth.

---

The police do come. It would seem that calm-voiced woman at the other end of the 911 call did her job, truly did dispatch units with little more than GPS coordinates and context clues. Things feel like they might be okay.