Now that the reminiscing is over I'm switching over to third person POV. Makes it a little easier on me. Sorry for the delay in getting this up, folks - school started on me.
The Story of Jaclyn Rades
Chapter One: Heir To A Dying Day
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It was noon when the alarm went off in what would seem to anyone like an empty apartment. Clothes littered the single living/bedroom, clean and dirty alike. The soft humming of the air conditioner melded with that of the powered computer against the wall. A floor fan buzzed a bit louder and slight more obnoxiously than the gentle purr of the other two machines.
A large pile of blankets in the middle of the twin bed beneath the window shifted. A low groan emerged from within. Slowly the blankets slid away as a tired young woman sat up on her bed. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, then sighed heavily. She lay back down and let her arm dangle over the side of her mattress. She punched at the keys of the shrilling digital clock at random until the alarm shut off. She lay there a moment longer, enjoying her waking moment of comfort, before sitting up again and pushing herself off of her bed.
Jaclyn Rades stumbled the few steps to her desk and cut on her computer monitor. A website came up and she smiled to herself. Jack Trades had received a hit.
With a little pep in her step she strolled over to her refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. She opened it and drank straight from the cardboard spout as she headed for her front door. She slid back the deadbolt and opened the door. She looked down and smiled.
"Hi there, Snickers."
A small cat rubbed at Jaclyn's ankles and responded with a quiet 'myaa.' She knelt and scratched its ears lovingly before stepping over it and heading outside. A milk dish was pushed up to the wall; she poured the remnants of her carton into the bowl. The cat dashed to the dish and began lapping at its contents, meowing its appreciation.
Jaclyn smiled and stood upright. She walked to the end of the second-level complex walkway and leaned on the black iron bars that rose to her waist. A young man about her age was heading back from the mailboxes. She leaned over the gate and called out to him.
"Hey, Spencer!"
He looked up and blinked, then chuckled. "Good morning, Tabby. Heh, or afternoon as the case may be. I trust you slept well."
"Slept well? How'd you know I just woke up?"
"Because you're still in your underwear."
She blinked and looked down. She was wearing a grey bra and navy silk boxers. She looked back at him with a playful grin.
"Yeah, usually when I head out in my underwear I at least try to match."
He laughed and shook his head. "You're a riot, J.T."
Jaclyn's eyes glazed over a little. J.T., her first and middle initials. That's what a lot of her new friends called her, especially Spencer. The first time he'd done it she was almost sure he had said...
She blinked out of her haze as Spencer began to walk underneath her back to his own residence. "See you around, Tabby," he said with a grin. "Don't stay out here too long or you might get busted for indecent exposure."
She looked down at him. His blonde hair and chocolate eyes, even his smile all reminded her of...
"Yeah, see ya Spence," she whispered. She heard a door open and close beneath her and she sighed. She hesitated for a minute then turned and headed back inside.
She never made any attempt to deny her trauma over what had happened to her those five years ago. Even now she still had nightmares. Her anguish drove her into compulsive, sometimes almost obsessive behavior. The smallest things could spark painful memories. As neurotic as it may have sounded to some, she kept her living quarters a mess to repress the flashbacks of her organized family, especially her tidy mother whose last words to her daughter had been a laundry request.
Jaclyn threw her empty milk carton in the trash bin underneath her desk as she sat down. A few keystrokes and clicks of the mouse and she was checking her - or rather, Jack Trades's - messages. A new one set posted at the top of several which were a few days old. Next to it was a black dot.
Jack's website organized its requests by means of small symbols which pegged each new message. Green usually took precedence in a tight situation as it stood for fast money. Yellow, similarly, meant a good bit of money - but most yellow jobs took some time and effort. Red was for an emergency with hopes of quick response, usually medical or criminal. A purple dot signified a highly-sensitive issue, usually government or military related (unsurprisingly, she didn't get very many of them). White was usually a general or broad topic, something which hadn't been covered already. Then finally, there was the black dot. Black was the color given to signify a dangerous job usually given by a very private party. Most black dots paid well too and she tended to make time for them whenever they popped up.
"Dot of Death," she said aloud. She smirked. "Been several months since I've had a black one."
She opened the message and scanned through it.
This is a message for Jack Trades
I have a job for you, Trades. First I would like to say that this is very much an illegal operation and if you were to report it, I guarantee I would not be captured. I would like to hire you as an assassin. The pay off is one million dollars cash which I will personally place in your hands should you complete this assignment. If you accept I shall provide you with transportation directly to me so that you may see what I have to offer. More information on the target will be revealed once you've agreed to take the job, but if you have any emotional hang-ups (though I don't count on it), I assure you this person is a long time law-breaker and has a record of murderous behavior. I request a fairly quick response to this offer.
D.
Jaclyn stared. An assassination? How absurd! How could she do something like that? She'd done a number of illegal things since she'd taken on her new role in life but had never been forced to kill anyone, let alone willingly done so. No; Kim Possible was no murderer.
...But she wasn't Kim Possible anymore. She was Jack Trades, and Jack was a completely different person. Jack was supposed to be cold-hearted, capable of anything, not restrained by emotions. To Jack, a job was a job - a way of life...that was how it was supposed to be. That's what she wanted it to be.
She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard a telephone ringing faintly. She got up and went to her bed. She pulled the blanket off of it and shook it violently. Other than stirring up some dust near the windowsill, the action seemed fruitless. Jaclyn grunted and instead went to her bathroom. After a quick survey she pulled back her shower curtain. Cursing she headed back into her living room where, after a moment of listening to the incessant trill of the telephone, she opened her refrigerator door. She grabbed the cordless from its place behind the three-day old pizza box and placed it to her ear. She jerked unconsciously. "Christ, that's cold!"
A feminine voice laughed from the other end of the line. Amused, it asked, "The fridge again?"
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"Eh, I'm used to it. Besides, it was only seven rings. So, we still on for lunch today?"
"You bet. I even set my alarm so I'd get up in time."
A gasp. "Why Tabby, I'm impressed. Flattered even."
She chuckled. "You should be. Listen, Romy, I need to grab a quick shower and get dressed. I'll meet you at Calloway's in about an hour."
"Okay, I'll bring us both some food so you won't have to run out and get anything. Anything you want in particular?"
"Nah, whatever's good."
"All right, see you in a bit."
Jaclyn clicked off the telephone and set it down next to the kitchen sink, then, on an afterthought, walked it to her desk and set it back on its charger. She grabbed the closest pair of clothes - a shirt on the back of her computer chair and a pair of jeans under the desk - and hurried off to the bathroom. A shower, dressing, and some grooming later, she was ready to go. She fished out her keys from the pocket of a pair of pants in the corner and was off to meet Romy.
Romy Balfour was perhaps Jaclyn Rades's closest friend. She was Jaclyn's age but very free spirited. She was the lead singer of a local band, Less Than Three, in which she dedicated most of her energy. She worked part time to get by whenever her gigs at lounges and coffee houses didn't have a high payoff. The two had first met a few weeks after Jaclyn had moved there. The singer had been visiting a fellow band member in the same apartment complex when they literally ran into each other. A simple apology turned into coffee and a three-hour conversation. That spark of friendship quickly raged into an inferno and almost instantly the two women were inseparable.
Jaclyn had come to trust Romy almost more than she did herself. Aloof but levelheaded and wise, Romy could often look at ever face of a situation, physical and emotional. That, Jaclyn discovered, was exactly what she needed in her life to keep her straight.
Romy became the only person with even the slightest knowledge of her past life - her family, her true name - and it had been through her support that Jack Trades had ever been born.
Jaclyn slowed her car and turned underneath a large cement archway that had the words 'Calloway Estates' inscribed into it.
Calloway Estates was the name of the local park. There was a story about the old park that she always loved to hear, about how almost a hundred years ago, when the town was a small village, it was about to bottom out and was going to have to sell all the territory the settlement rested on when a man a rich man named Ethan Calloway bought many acres of land surrounding the village then gave it back to the citizens. Because of him the village was saved and even expanded into the town she lived in today. The site of the old village was now a park in the very heart of the town. Jaclyn only hoped that one day she could do something so great.
She followed one of the roads back toward her and Romy's meeting place. Whenever the two went to the park they always met in the same spot. A small stream lead south into Lake Calloway, a favored fishing hole near the far back end of the park. Silver birch trees lined the banks of the water in a spot where a beaten path secretly lay, fashioned in the wood by two women who had sought adventure to satiate their boredom. The stream (as it was virtually unknown) was tranquil and hushed. It was their way to escape.
Jaclyn parked near the dock of Lake Calloway and made her way into the surrounding foliage. Where a normal visitor would've been lost amongst the tall trees and high grasses, she continued headlong without diffidence. She knew what awaited her and found it easily. A path emerged and she followed it undaunted until she could hear the rushing water of a nearby stream. It slowly came to view. Sitting against a thin birch was Romy, munching on a small bag of potato chips. She looked up toward Jaclyn as she approached.
"About time you showed up."
Her response was a shrug as she sat down next to her friend and asked, "Get my food?"
Romy nodded and handed her a plastic Subway bag. "Turkey breast, cheddar, and mayo on white, just like always."
"Mmm great," she said, pulling out her sandwich and taking a large bite. Romy shook her head.
"Mayonnaise on cheese and turkey...I swear you have the strangest tastes."
"Hey it's good. Want a bite?"
"Uh, no thanks. Still working on my chips."
Jaclyn nodded and went back to her sandwich. There was silence for a bit as they ate but before long Romy was crumpling up her empty chip bag and shoving it into her own Subway sack. "So," she started, wiping the grease from her hands onto her jeans, "where are we going to go once this place is torn down?"
Jaclyn almost choked on her food. "Torn down? What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you hear? They're clearing out the lake."
"What? Why?"
"The council got news from the governor that he wants to tear down the park piece by piece for lodging purposes. The whole south side of Calloway is getting leveled."
"That's ridiculous! Why does the governor want housing here? Why not somewhere else?"
"Because people just love to visit little old-fashioned towns like this one. The greedy bastard just wants to turn a buck."
Jaclyn sighed heavily and tossed the remnants of her sandwich back into its bag, suddenly not hungry anymore. She stared at the water flowing in the stream almost wearily. Her mood was back in the gutter, much like it had been before Romy called. Her thoughts circled back to that job request and she became even more disheartened.
"Tabby?"
She sighed. "Hmn?"
"Is something else bothering you?"
Jaclyn hesitated a moment. "I got a hit on the site today," she said, keeping her gaze on the water.
"Oh yeah? What kind?"
Another sigh, this time softer. "Like I said, it was a 'hit'...it's an assassination job."
Silence. Jaclyn closed her eyes, almost expecting to be berated. Instead she heard Romy say quietly, "On whom?"
"I don't know. The contractor said they'd let me know more after I accepted the job. They tried to make it pretty obvious that whoever it was deserved it though, like this person was some sort of murderer."
"So what're you going to do?"
"...I so badly want to say no, but...there's something pulling at me. I don't know what it is, instinct maybe, telling me I should go for it..."
Romy was silent for a moment, as if mentally prepping, then spoke: "Throughout my life I've learned that if you've got that gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you should follow it; and that sometimes sacrifices have to be made. I'm not much on capitol punishment, but sometimes justice is necessary...and if this person is entitled that, then you make the choice. Maybe it's not your place to take away life, but if what your contractor says is true, it wasn't their place either. Ridding the world of a killer, you'd be a sort vigilante...but vigilantes are always heroes to someone...the one who asked for your help..."
She paused and placed her hand over her friend's. "They could be just like you, Kim...and maybe, just maybe, if you can get yourself back into the underworld, you can find out what really happened to your family."
Jaclyn opened her eyes and stared at the stream, letting the words sink in. In her heart she knew Romy was right. She sighed softly. "It just makes me sound so selfish..."
"You're the heir to a dying day, Kim - but the sun will always rise again."
---&---&---&---
The sun had long since set when Jaclyn found herself sitting in front of her computer again. She stared at the message in front of her, remembering everything Romy had said. That gut instinct had only grown stronger, but she still had her reservations; however the more she meditated on the advice she was given, the more distant those inhibitions seemed. She poised her fingertips over her keyboard and closed her eyes briefly.
You're the heir to a dying day, Kim - but the sun will always rise again.
She opened her eyes again and stared at the screen not only as Jack Trades, but as Kim Possible, who at this very moment had been reborn somewhere deep inside.
"I accept."
---&---End Chapter One---&---