First things first: this is the very first leverage fanfic. I write. I'm still figuring out how to work the material, so don't hate. Second of all, I don't have a great track record of finishing stories. That been said, I've got three chapters ready, and a motivation rivaling with people who actually get paid for writing. (Sigh, wouldn't that be lovely….?) Thirdly, I'm experimenting with several concepts. *spoiler alert* A small list:
I'm toying with the idea that for a grifter you should not use a name, as to refer to the fleeting nature of their identities. So I'm trying to describe the new grifter girl with only 'she.' I would use the same for Sophie, but that would get confusing, so there.
I'm having some fun with flash backs, flash forwards and just generally confusing the reader. If you get lost, it is generally not your fault, and you will find yourself later on. Hopefully.
This might seem like an AU story in the beginning. It's not. It's a job-fic. Which is why it's called 'the apprentice job.' (Lame title, I know…)
Than, one final thing: does anyone know what a 'grafter' is, or why Word keeps insisting that is what I mean when I write grifter? It's annoying, because it automatically corrects 'grifter'. So if it says grafter, which it should not, it should be grifter.
Monologue.
I am Andrea, or Loraly, or Samantha, or Susan or even Johnny. I'm notoriously insecure, and I'm obnoxiously arrogant, totally untrustworthy and a respected saint. I'm eighteen years old, or nineteen, or seventeen, and I've left behind me an army of victims waiting to reclaim what they once possessed. And tonight I am going to make another one.
Tudetututuduu (phonetic writing of the leverage music theme.)
"Come back here, you little brat! Get back here! Jonathan!" The woman, who stood screeching halfway on the stairs, seemed to be genuinely upset. "Mrs. Donohovan," said a young girl who appeared on the top of the stairs. "Mind telling me what you're doing?"
"I am raising these kids, which is what I'm hired for, too. " The girl shook her head. "No, I get this is confusing, but you're most certainly not hired to raise these children. You are hired to be their legal guardian. To keep foster care off our backs and all that. To watch them when I'm gone. Any actual raising is my job."
"Well, the way you raise them, they're going to end up at the gallows. Or blown up, that is! You're just a kid yourself, young lady!"The young girl brushed off her green, deep-cleaved dress. "The gallows don't even exist anymore. What all this blown-up stuff is all about, I don't know. And I'm eighteen, so technically I am an adult. Either way, I have to go and earn your wage tonight, so I don't have time for this. If you would just stop screaming…"
"No, I will not stop screaming! That boy almost killed her! I'm all for liberty and all that, but that's just going too far." The girl took one look at her expression, then glanced at her watch and sighed. "On the other hand, I can come fashionably late, I suppose. Who almost killed whom?"
"Jonathan almost blew up Milly," Mrs. Donohovan replied. The girl smiled. "She deserves that," she said. "I must say Jonathan exercised a certain restraint in not actually blowing her up. After all, she did steal his bed. Only god know how. I'll deal with it when I get back." She smiled again. "Since he didn't actually blow her up, I think the situation looks a lot better than you making it out to be. Now, I have a date."
Mrs. Donohovan shook her head as the girl rushed out of the door on her high heels.
