An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Summary: A quick and easy job gets complicated. Will new lies be able to cover the naked truth?
Chapter 1. Easy money.
It was late on a Thursday afternoon. Red and I had been less busy than usual. He amused himself by watching me try to lay down a neat, even line of weld metal on a scrap of steel plate.
It wasn't as easy as Red made it look. The dark glass of the protective mask makes you totally blind until the arc starts, but you can't start the arc without beginning to weld. He laughed at the ragged line of weld spatter that I tracked across the plate. Then he sent me home with the repair manual for the welder.
***
The quickest way home was through several streets of small shops. As usual, there weren't many people shopping for antiques, candles, or carved wooden statues of animals.
I glanced at the reflection of the street in the window of a dark and empty storefront. Someone looked familiar. The baseball cap wasn't, but I thought that maybe I had seen that face, in profile. He was just an ordinary, middle aged man.
I was a transgenic soldier, and trained to be suspicious.
Not a soldier anymore, I reminded myself. I strolled casually into the next shop, and pretended to study a bulletin board, and the announcements tacked to it. Some of the pieces of paper were hand-written by someone looking for a room mate, or maybe a ride out of town. There was a guitar for sale, a missing dog, and an "old-tyme revival" at the Church of Sunny Weather.
On the other side of the glass door, the man with the baseball cap continued down the street like nothing had happened. Either he wasn't following me, or he noticed that I noticed. I guessed that I was going to be suspicious anyway.
"Artist model wanted for small drawing class. Two hours on Thursday evenings. Call Judy." The little cut tabs of phone numbers had all been torn off. I wondered what sort of job that was.
"Are you interested?" asked someone, just behind my shoulder.
"Pardon?" I turned to look down at a cheerful, dark-eyed woman.
"Sorry. I'm Judy Sherwood." She smiled and shifted a multi-colored cloth tote bag to her left hand. "The class is in an hour and a half. My friend Marty was going to pose, but has to work late instead."
"It isn't a job I've ever done!" I let her shake my hand. She seemed pretty insistent about it. "Besides, you haven't mentioned a rate."
"It's easy if you aren't self-conscious, although there are some people who can't hold still long enough." Streaks of grey emphasized the straight, un-styled length of her hair.
"Uh, just one stupid question, Judy. Are you paying? Or just looking for a volunteer?"
"Oh, yes." One corner of her mouth twitched. "$50, cash, if you sit for a two-hour class. I forgot your name already, young man."
"Jack." I decided that I hadn't committed myself to anything yet. "Would it be nosy to ask how many students?"
"Twelve, if they all show up. You know, some kids get the idea that being artistic means you don't have to keep a schedule."
"I wouldn't know about the artistic thing, Judy." I made a quick decision. She was offering good money for two hours of something that didn't sound strenuous at all. "If those are the terms, I think I can help you out."
Her mouth twitched again. "You forgot to ask a really important question, Jack. What you really need to know, is that I teach a class that emphasizes drawing the human figure. Are you willing to pose nude?"
Well, why not? My hair covers the bar code. "Okay, I think I can deal with that."
"Great. We are using a classroom in the school on South Oak Drive. Do you know where that is?"
Five minutes later, I was at a pay phone. "Roxanne" would still be at work, and I'd be able to warn her that I would be home late.