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insurance [2017/12/13 10:59] (current)
bookscorpion created
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 +==== Insurance ====
 +
 +**Slicer'​s Log**
 +
 +**21st August 2071**
 +
 +//​Slicer’s busy chopping vegetables in the kitchen//
 +
 +So that was kinda weird. I’m still trying to find out what happened back in Afghanistan and Chuck told me that the widow of Lieutenant Baker was living in [[Boston]]. Doing pretty well for the wife of a soldier who’s only MIA. The benefits are not all that generous even when you’re KIA and since she’s not some heiress or shit, this is suspicious.
 +
 +[[Rusty]] was flying over to Boston anyway with [[Líng]], so [[Frettchen]] and I tagged along. I don’t know what Rusty’s doing, but he needed to get [[Firefox]] into a hospital. So Frettchen waltzes in, demanding that they do an artificial insemination for her. On her. Whatever. With that guy //he points at himself// she just picked up on the street because, damn, he’s strong and stuff and what more does a woman need? While everyone is staring at her in complete shock and people are trying to explain that no, she doesn’t get to do a handjob on me even if things WERE so easy, I hook up with one of their copy machines and get Firefox into the system. No-one thinks about building a firewall for a copy machine, right?
 +
 +I don’t know if this worked out, none of my fucking business. Frettchen and I had called Baker’s wife and she was really happy to meet one of the boys. Talked a lot about her husband and she had tons of photos and shit. She told me that her money comes from a sort of insurance deal her husband had. Like fuck. If she knows anything, she’s a world-class actress. I mean, she kinda knows that deals like that don’t exist, but she doesn’t want to think about it. I get the feeling that she’s happier with the money and her husband’s memory that she’d be with the actual man. Can’t say I blame her, he was a cold bastard.
 +
 +We went out of there with a bottle of scotch and the name of some general. Next trip will be to Washington, if I can figure out a way to reach the man. Can’t call him up to just chat. And I don’t give a flying fuck for my chances if anyone finds out that I got nosy. Anyway, we shared the bottle with a couple of homeless vets we met on the way back to the hotel and that was a pretty good end to the day.
 +
 +//He reaches out to turn off the recording and the last thing heard is Frettchen yelling from the next room if Slicer knows where they can buy a grand piano and some rocket fuel for cheap.//
 +
 +[[Masterpost]]
 +
 +{{tag> Adventure_Log Slicer'​s_Log Slicer Frettchen}}
  
insurance.txt · Last modified: 2017/12/13 10:59 by bookscorpion