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Apprentice: phtlc and Fun Times

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phtlc

Super-Earth
Joined
Jun 11, 2009
Location
Under your bed, in your cloest, in your head
Apprentice

Greg was being a jerk as usual, and Doris was being no better. The entire ride home the two of them bickered about everything and anything. Invariably their less than cheerful demeanour made its way to the back seat of the car at me. Greg and Doris are my foster parents. They’re not the first, and won’t be the last. It’s a bit of a scam really; the whole foster parent thing. People get money from the government for agreeing to be foster parents, but they don’t really see the kids they take in as their own, and they don’t truly care; It’s a business proposition.

My name is Rick, and I have been brought up through the system as my real parents put me up for adoption at birth. I’ve had several foster parents, and these two were the latest in a string of jerks. I guess being brought up this way has played a role in my self confidence. I am somewhat introverted and very shy around girls. I’m still a virgin, but then many guys in my high school class are too. I try to take care of myself, I go to the gym to lift weights, but I find that my body is not developing as fast as I want it to. I have OK biceps, but not the big muscles I want. Sadly I don’t have any hair on my chest.

As soon as we went into the house, Greg ran to answer the phone. It really wasn’t any big mystery that Greg and Doris were involved in criminal activity. Goes to show you how well the foster system screens potential “parents”. They both appeared to be low level intermediaries, fairly low down on the drug distribution system. They didn’t stand on a street corner selling drugs though, they at least had some people below them doing that, but they were truly only one rung up the ladder and probably wouldn’t rise higher.

As soon as Greg answered the phone, I could tell he was talking to one of his superiors. He sounded stressed and nervous. He was clearly trying to appease the person on the other end of the line, using phrases like “it wasn’t my fault”, and “I’ll get the money...I promise...I just need more time”. Whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t seem to be buying this, and I could actually hear the mans voice yelling over the phone, as Greg got more distressed. Doris was standing there watching Greg, and she seemed quite distressed herself.

After the phone conversation ended, the two of them started bickering about how they were going to deal with the apparent mess they were in. From what I heard of Gregs end of the conversation, he had screwed something up, and now seemed to owe somebody some sizable amount of money which he couldn’t come up with. They argued for an hour, with Doris even suggesting that they just leave town, bit Greg shot that idea down, saying they would have to stay and find a way to come up with the money. I got tired of eavesdropping and went to watch a bit of TV in the basement.

Doris called me up for dinner later, and I went to eat. The dinner was less than impressive; her dry bland meatloaf. I could barely conceal my enthusiasm.

“Rick, your not eating.” She complained I didn’t feel like getting into an argument, so I bit the bullet and forced the lousy meal down my throat. After completing my meal, I excused myself and went to phone a friend. We agreed to meet in the park to play some catch. I was half decent at baseball, and was on my school team, so I always wanted to practice. Grabbing my glove, I started getting ready to leave when I heard the doorbell ring. I was curious who would be calling on us on a Saturday, because Greg and Doris rarely entertained people here. They preferred to go out to bars.

I peeked out of my room, and saw Greg open the door, and standing there was a woman, brown hair, quite attractive who I had never seen before. She spoke some words with Greg, and he puffed his chest out as he seemed to argue with her. She gave him a stern look and spoke something I couldn’t here, which seemed to knock the bravado out of him. He relented and stepped aside, ushering her into the house. I don’t think she saw me, so I watched from a distance as she walked into the living room while Greg and Doris stood there nervously.

Doris started talking to the woman, explain her side of the story, and reassuring her that they would get the money and that they just needed more time. I watched, somewhat curious.
 
Assassination was not an industry for those who can't control their emotions. If someone can't keep themselves in check, even when committing murder in cold blood, there were other industries for them. Wet work took a certain type of person, a person who could, at a command, shut off the normal instincts of goodwill towards mankind and murder for nothing more than a paycheck at the end of the day. It was good for the people who could do it, as making more money than ever needed was no challenge.

I was most certainly not happy to get my new assignment.
 
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