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"Precious Cargo" by Herr Wozzeck (part 1 of 2)

It’s just another day for Roderick Cranston, but little does he know his sister is about to change his life drastically.

Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Precious Cargo” by Herr Wozzeck, who is a writer and musician, author of Whip and Boot and a member of Trio Menagerie. You can find more of his stories on Furaffinity and SoFurry. You can find even more on his Patreon, where he also produces music.

Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.

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https://thevoice.dog/episode/precious-cargo-by-herr-wozzeck-part-1-of-2

Transcript
Speaker:

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

Speaker:

This is Rob MacWolf,

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your fellow traveler,

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and Today’s story is the first of two parts

Speaker:

of “Precious Cargo”

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by Herr Wozzeck,

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who is a writer and musician, author of Whip and Boot and a member of Trio Menagerie.

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You can find more of his stories on Furaffinity and SoFurry.

Speaker:

You can find even more on his Patreon,

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where he also produces music.

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Please enjoy “Precious Cargo”

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by Herr Wozzeck, Part 1 of 2

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The first thing Roderick Cranston heard upon waking up

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was the soft tone of a cello in the next room.

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He blinked wearily,

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sleep coming off of him rather slowly as he laid there.

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He paused, taking it in:

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it had to be Don Quixote:

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he knew that was next in the concert series, and for once the New York Phil was not outsourcing to an outside cellist.

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Of course it meant she would have to warm up more diligently at home,

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but Roderick did not mind:

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if anything, it was the best thing he could possibly have woken up to.

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He thus sighed, rolling his considerable weight on his side so he could listen better.

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The bed did creak rather loudly after this,

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even despite how big the bed was, Roderick was so big he could not help the loud creak.

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It was at this that he heard the cello playing stop:

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a wave of embarrassment overtook him,

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and he found his shoulders retreating up to his head quickly.

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After a second, the door opened:

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Roderick saw the light splay across the bed, framed

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by the silhouette of a small woman.

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“You’re finally awake, huh, you sleepy giant?”

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Roderick sighed. “I wanted to hear you play some more, Ally,”

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he said. “I’m always afraid I’ll disturb your playing if I walk in while you’re doing it.”

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Allison Cranston chuckled,

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before walking forward

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and kissing Roderick on his scaled crown.

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“And I keep telling you, my endpin has been through worse things than a massive crocodile stomping through the room,”

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she said. Her delicate hand brushed over his head, and she smiled at him.

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“Come out of bed, it’s kind of late in the morning.”

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Roderick nodded. With a grunt, he turned, sitting up in bed.

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The huge crocodile sat there, looking down at Allison as she looked up to him.

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Even seated, Roderick remained towering over her:

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it was a sensation he was never fully used to,

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but seeing the way she looked up at him every morning was worth it.

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He smiled, reaching forward with one of his big clawed hands. “Good morning, sweetie.”

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He leaned forward,

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gently licking up the side of Allison’s neck.

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“Morning to you too, big guy.”

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Allison walked out the door again.

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“I hope you don’t mind I helped myself to one of your leftover croissants this morning!”

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Roderick smiled at this.

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“Not at all, sweetie,”

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he said. He stood up, ducking as he made his way out of the bedroom.

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“Those things’ll go bad fast if you don’t, after all!”

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“Good,” she said. “Just going to keep it to making that massive egg sandwich this morning?”

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“Yup.” He exhaled. “Had to make my own sized croissants for a reason, after all!”

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“I know you do!” Allison then turned to her cello,

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picking it up from where it had laid on its side and sitting back at her

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chair. “Hope you don’t mind my practicing while you prepare your own breakfast.”

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“Oh, not at all,” Roderick replied.

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“You do your thing.”

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He then looked to the clock.

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“Rehearsal will be soon anyway, right?”

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“Yeah,” Allison replied.

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“About an hour. I’ll be there by then, don’t

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worry.” “I won’t, I know how you get there.”

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He then turned, looking out the window of their penthouse apartment.

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The view always amazed him: all of New York

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sprawled about underneath them,

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with all of its moving parts flitting about beneath.

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It always struck him just how vibrant the city was,

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and even from how high up his and Allison’s apartment was they could see the whole city moving from up there.

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Roderick took a second to look outside,

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reflecting on his situation in life:

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all things considered,

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he could not have asked for anything more.

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He’d left his old life behind, after all,

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and with that he could safely say things had turned out for the better:

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beautiful wife, beautiful home,

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but most of all nothing was

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pulling him back,

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and he knew not everyone had that luxury.

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He nodded, before turning to his fridge,

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picking out the specific croissant

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he would use to make his trademark morning breakfast sandwich. ----**----

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The scales of Greta Cranston’s tail brushed against the underside of the seat

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as the plane pulled into the gate.

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It was a slow approach, and Greta

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could feel the roar of the engine where she sat back in the plane.

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It was quieting down now,

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and her eyes turned up to the seat belt sign,

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tapping a claw against the seat rest in front of her.

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She flinched as soon as the accompanying beep sounded,

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and she looked up in great relief to see the sign was off.

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She almost jumped out of the aisle seat as soon as she saw this, and she quickly opened the overhead compartment.

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The duffel bag up there was the only thing she had been able to think of the entire flight:

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this was a fear unlike any job she had ever taken on before.

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If things were to go wrong now…

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Greta immediately unzipped the duffel bag, scanning its contents with wide green eyes.

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She sighed in relief

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as soon as she saw its cargo survived unscathed.

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She exhaled, before pulling it out into the aisle carefully.

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Now that the cargo had gotten through in one piece,

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now there was the matter of getting out of the plane and into the city of New York.

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She had one of multiple destinations to find, but she had to speak to her brother.

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The cargo was too valuable to go to anyone else.

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Thus, she took deep breaths,

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calming herself as she waited for the plane to empty out. ----**----

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Allison had headed out for rehearsal soon after Roderick had finished his sandwich.

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With this done, Roderick had decided it was time to head out for his daily rituals.

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Thus, he exited the apartment building,

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his hefty frame standing out amongst the crowd as he made his way south.

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After about ten minutes,

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he passed the main branch of the New York Public Library on his left:

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that was his signal that he was almost to his bakery.

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He had bought the little place just after getting to New York,

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and while it’d had its uses before

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now it was a fine establishment.

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He’d already heard stellar reviews of the bakery,

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and he’d even had it featured on

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Eater one or two times

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(where he’d been more than happy to make one of his breads),

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and it was really coming into its own.

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He’d never thought a hobby he’d picked up to pass the time between jobs

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would become so lucrative,

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but New York was a food city,

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and it paid off bigtime.

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Finally, he turned the corner around the public library, and there it was: his bakery, right out in front.

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He was able to see a line going out of the bakery towards the next building.

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It brought a smile to the crocodile’s snout to see it was doing so well,

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although he wondered just what was going on inside,

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where it no doubt was hectic.

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He only wished there were more employees to help inside, though:

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that was why the help wanted sign stayed constant out there, after all.

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Thus, he pulled on his tank top, moving straight past the line.

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Most would normally have balked at it, but he noticed a few of his regulars,

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and those that weren’t seemed to recognize him as the chef of the establishment.

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However, he knew going in that there would be a different face greeting him there, considering this was the first day of his weekend,

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as he dubbed it. And thus, at the counter, he saw the greying fur

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of Harold Lauter

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as he was taking stock on pastries.

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The older rat’s brown fur still stuck around, but it

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was definitely fast disappearing.

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But he still stood pretty tall,

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pointing the end of his pen at a half-empty tray.

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The rat turned to a younger-looking hawk.

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“Have we got lemon lavender meringue tarts going, Lizzie?”

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he asked. “Yup,” the hawk replied.

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“Just came over here to let you know I started the meringue for a new batch,

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and the curd has been cooling in the blast chiller

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for about ten minutes.

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Should be ready to go in about five minutes from now.”

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“Good, you’ll have it out then,”

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Harold replied. “Don’t forget to torch it this time when you put it on.”

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“Of course.” The hawk went to the back,

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her talons clacking on the floor slightly.

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Harold nodded, and then turned back to the counter.

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He then paused, his eyes turning up to look at Roderick.

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His two buck teeth showed almost immediately, and he smiled, putting the clipboard down.

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“Roderick!” Harold said.

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He placed a hand on top of the glass on the counter.

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“Good to see you again this morning! I thought you would be off for the gym today.”

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“I am.” Roderick pulled at his tank top.

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“What do you think this is for?”

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Harold laughed, his quiet, crystalline laugh still projecting over the bustle of the crowd.

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“Fair enough, fair enough.”

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He then exhaled. “Well, you’ll be happy to know the new chocolate-chamomile croissant is taking off really well.

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First batch has sold

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out, Nadiya is in the back making sure more are ready by the time lunch rush starts in a few hours.”

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“Good, good,” Roderick replied.

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“Any other important updates?”

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“Not really,” said Harold.

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“Things are moving smooth as can be around here!” “Good to hear,” Roderick replied. He heard the door to the bakery open, the bell jingling

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rather loudly.

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With this, he turned towards the door, making his way out.

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“I know you’ve got it under control, so I’ll be heading—”

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He felt a slight bump on his left arm. As soon

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as he looked down, he saw a draft horse move past,

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his left shoulder pulling back slightly from the impact.

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The horse’s dark blue eyes widened, and as

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he pulled back he brought a hand up to his shoulder. “S

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-sorry, sir!” he said.

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Roderick smiled. “Oh, it’s alright,”

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he said. “You’re fine, don’t stress too hard.”

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The horse nodded.

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“Thanks.” He then looked up,

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blinking at the large crocodile.

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“Actually, uh…” He glanced at the crocodile.

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“Are you the owner of this place?”

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“Indeed I am, kid.” Roderick nodded, crossing his arms.

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“I’m assuming you’ve seen the help wanted sign?”

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“A couple times, sir,” the horse replied. He then glanced to the floor, before turning his gaze to Harold.

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“Actually, I’ve technically already submitted an application, I just wanted to check in on the status of that.”

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Roderick nodded, turning back to Harold.

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“Have you processed it?”

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he asked. “Just finished doing that this morning,”

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Harold replied. He then reached under the counter for the information, frowning.

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“One… Gerald Miggs, yes?”

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“Yes, sir,” the horse replied.

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He looked down at Harold.

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“Sorry if I’m being nosy.”

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“Oh, not at all!” Roderick smiled at this,

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his eyes quickly turning to the customers before he looked to Harold.

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“Maybe we should pull this away from customers for now.”

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“Right.” Harold leaned out towards the back.

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“Lizzie, can you handle the front of house for a couple of minutes?” “Coming!” The hawk piled right out, adjusting her apron as she came rushing out.

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“Thank you,” Harold replied.

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The rat then scooched further down,

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the hawk immediately nodding to the anole at the front of the line and helping him out. Roderick and Gerald followed suit, the two of them looking down as Harold looked at the paperwork in Harold’s hand.

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After a second, Harold nodded.

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“Oh right, there it is.” He then exhaled, pulling up some papers as he looked to Roderick.

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“Criminal record.” And at this, Gerald’s eyes widened.

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Roderick noted the horse’s expression,

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saw the way his arms tensed and the way his ears flattened hard against his mane. Roderick looked on, Gerald swallowing hard as he looked on. “I

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-I know,” said Gerald.

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“Then I’m sure you know why we can’t take you on,”

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Harold replied. “It says you have a record of

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petty theft as a kid.”

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“Please, I really need this job,”

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Gerald said. He placed his hands delicately on the glass of the display case,

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and Roderick could see his eyes water up.

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“Nobody else will take me,

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I’ve tried all throughout the city.”

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Harold opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else Roderick held up his hand.

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“Hold on, Harold,” Roderick replied.

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He looked down. “I want to ask him some things first.”

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Gerald gulped. “Sir?”

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he asked. Roderick bowed his head towards Gerald, looking down.

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“What was the charge for?”

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“Uh, petty theft, like he said.” Gerald exhaled, Roderick noticing that he was shaking some tension out of his fingers.

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“Nothing else.” Roderick nodded, tapping a single finger against his bicep.

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“And I’m assuming you did your time?”

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“Yes, sir,” said Gerald. “It’s…

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a long story. Just friends roped me into—”

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“I’m going to stop you there,

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you don’t have to tell me anything.”

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Roderick placed two more fingers onto his bicep at that.

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“What’s important is, you’re trying to go straight now, right?”

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“Yeah,” said Gerald.

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He shook his head, the tears welling in his eyes.

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“I’m…” He gulped nervously,

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his gaze turning to the floor.

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“I’m trying really hard.

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It’s hard when nobody will

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take you, you know?”

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Roderick nodded. He uncrossed his arms, looking down at Gerald as kindly as a seven foot tall crocodile was capable of.

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“We’ve all got our crosses to bear,”

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he said. “But the important part is, you’re trying to get out of that.

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I know how hard it is, that you just need someone to believe in you. Right?”

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“Yeah…” Gerald nodded,

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and in the sparkle of the horse’s eyes Roderick could see

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how his pupils began to shrink,

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relax a little bit.

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Roderick bowed his head forward.

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“When can you start?”

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Gerald blinked, looking up at Roderick in shock. “U

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-uh…” He ran a hand through his mane, his ears perking up just as he passed his hand over them.

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“I can do any time.

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I don’t really have a lot to do, you know.

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know.” Roderick smiled. “Come in tomorrow,

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I’ll be in the office then, and I can show you the

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ropes,” he said. Gerald’s shoulders immediately fell, and Gerald’s smile seemed to brighten up the whole room. “O

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-Oh… Oh my God!” Gerald reached forward,

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enthusiastically shaking Roderick’s hand.

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“Thank you! You’ll see me there right at opening,

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I promise!” Roderick smiled at this.

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“Welcome to the team, Gerald.”

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Gerald nodded, turning to Harold.

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“I’m not going to need anything else, am I, sir?”

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Harold sighed, his ears drooping slightly.

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“We’ll take care of the paperwork tomorrow when you come in,”

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he said, his voice expressing his exasperation.

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“For now, just be sure to show up on time.”

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“Alright, then you’ll see me there!

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I won’t let you guys down!”

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With this, Gerald exited the store, and Roderick could see him almost skipping his way out and even high fiving a customer in the line.

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Harold exhaled, folding the papers up and putting them in the breast pocket of his suit.

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“I don’t know about this, Roderick,”

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he replied. “It’s a bit of a slippery slope, letting a petty thief into the store.”

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Roderick nodded. “I understand your concern,

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but if nobody ever gave anyone a break the whole world would stop dead.”

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He then patted the display case.

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“And besides, if nobody ever got second chances, well…”

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He shrugged, bowing his head pointedly towards Harold as he pointed a finger into his own chest.

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“You and I both know where I’d be today.”

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Harold’s tail stiffened in response, and he

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backed up against the wall.

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“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said.

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He nodded. “I’ll give him a chance, then.”

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“Good.” Roderick smiled, before turning to the door.

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“Anyway, mind the store for me, it’s gym time. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

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“Of course.” Harold turned back to Lizzie, although Roderick could tell that Harold’s movements

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were not as lively as they usually were for a man his age.

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Roderick nodded, and with this, he turned to the door.

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The bell chimed behind him as he left, and he nodded to some of the customers before turning away from Bryant Park,

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to the nearest Metro station

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and to his usual gym spot. ----**----

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Greta stepped out of the first gym she had attempted to enter.

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It was a dud: the rather musclebound human owner of the gym had no problem chewing her out with the duffel

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bag, and when he had calmed down enough to listen to her question about Roderick, he mentioned he had never heard of a man by that name, nevermind a tall crocodile that was just over her height,

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before threatening to call the police over her duffel bag.

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She exhaled gently,

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holding her cargo close at hand before she walked off.

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It was clear this gym was a bust, that was for certain.

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She adjusted her sunglasses on her face after this, exhaling as she brushed off some of the hey

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from her black suit jacket.

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That meant there were only two more gyms she could check in this part of the city,

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and she had to do it quickly.

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The thought made her blood run a little cold, in a way that caused her muscles to constrict somewhat.

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If this owner had been this hostile about seeing her cargo,

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then who knew what the owner of Roderick’s actual gym would be like?

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She might not even get to see him,

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and everything she had done to get there would be for naught…

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She looked down to her duffel bag.

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She also had to face the possibility that he would not want to see what was in there to begin with: this was

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a possibility she had not yet confronted, but after the gym owner’s treatment of her she began to wonder:

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would he really do the same thing?

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She exhaled. No,

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she had to believe he would at least listen.

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They were related by blood, after all: he had to,

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even if they had not spoken in almost a year. She thus

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steeled herself,

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looking down at her next destination.

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It was a bit of a ways away, but Greta knew she could not risk a cab in her line of work.

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Thus, she began the long walk to her next gym,

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hoping against all hope

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that it was the one Roderick frequented. ----**----

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It was a little bit of a trek to get to the nearest gym that supported anthros:

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there were none on Manhattan, and that

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meant he had to go elsewhere.

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He was lucky that Brooklyn was only a short ride away,

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and that the area had been seeing a lot of development over the years:

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it meant lots of varied new businesses were opening up there,

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many in ways that the island couldn’t provide.

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Thus, his most trusted gym:

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he’d started going along to a gym that had opened in a former warehouse, probably the only place that could reasonably fit all varieties of anthro in there.

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It still took a while, but Roderick was in no hurry:

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after all, on gym days, he tended to stay in there for a long time.

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Thus, Roderick inhaled as he walked through the double doors of the gym, ducking his head under the entrance briefly.

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He could hear the sounds of weights clacking against each other deeper inside the gym,

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enough that Roderick knew it would be a full day.

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He was certain he would get looks from everyone, but he had no plans to show off,

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not with Allison waiting at home by the time he got back.

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Of course, there was only one other person he

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would show off for. “Rod, there ya are! You’re late!”

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Roderick turned to his right, and there stood a massive rhino with a broad smile on

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his face. The sight brought a smile to his face: Anton Maxon always looked quite cheerful

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for somebody Rod had met in his old line of work,

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and now that they were both out he seemed even cheerier than ever.

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“Hey Anton!” Rod came forward, patting Anton on the shoulder.

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“Sorry about that, I had to deal with something when I checked in on the bakery this morning.”

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“One little thing makes the trains go by without a word, right?”

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Anton asked. He shrugged.

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“It wasn’t anything bad, was it?”

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“Oh, no, just some kid who wanted a job,”

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Rod replied. He shrugged,

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“Harold needed to be convinced a bit to take a petty thief on,

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give the kid another chance.”

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“Or start your own speakeasy down in the basement,”

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Anton replied. He winked, nudging Roderick on the side.

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“Can you imagine the comments sections on YouTube if that were to happen?”

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“I don’t even want to go down that train of thought,”

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Roderick replied. He pulled away, shrugging as he looked at Anton.

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“You slept OK on that rock last night?”

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“Yeah, just a bit,” Anton said.

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He bent over, stretching his legs briefly.

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“Wouldn’t have come in today if I wasn’t feeling it.”

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“Yeah, I hear you,” Roderick replied.

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He then rubbed his hands.

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“Anyway, shall we get started? I’ve got an entire day’s worth of gymming to do, and we’re not going to do it out here.”

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“Nope,” Anton replied.

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He then nodded towards the front desk, dangling a key from an outstretched hand in front of Roderick. “Took the liberty of signing you in when I got here, all you need to do is get to the locker and do stuff.”

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“Thank you!” Roderick took the key.

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“I’ll try not to take too long.”

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Anton chuckled at this, leaning against the wall.

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“With those arms, I’m surprised you can pick up any speed there, Rod!”

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“You’d be surprised!” Roderick replied, twirling the key ring on his finger.

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“You’d be very surprised!”

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He chuckled. “I’ll be only five minutes!”

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Anton smiled at Roderick as he retreated into the locker room.

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“Good luck!” he said.

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Roderick flashed Anton a wink, before he retreated into the locker room.

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As he went to get his stuff out, Roderick was thankful the rhino had thought to check him in first: even if he had only been about nine minutes late (a record for lateness, really),

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it only reconfirmed what he knew: Anton was still the world’s best work-out partner,

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and it was a partnership that Roderick could not do without.

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Thus, he opened his locker, pulling his water bottle and towel and moving towards the water fountain

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to fill his bottle up for the first hour of the workout. ----**----

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About three hours in, and Roderick was only then beginning to feel the burn in his triceps.

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Roderick was usually in the gym for all his muscle groups at a time,

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and most of that took six hours.

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His legs were already burning,

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and it was only just then he had started work on his torso. His arms

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barely felt the first hour of the work-out even at the highest possible weights, and…

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Anton was not too far away, his arm held in a curling machine:

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sweat was pouring off the rhino’s brow,

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and as Roderick slowly lifted the lat bar up until he could release it and started

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to shake his arms out,

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he looked over, grinning.

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“Sweating over there, big guy?”

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Roderick asked. Anton growled, midway through another curl as he glared. “Grrrrh…”

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Rod grinned at this, looking down.

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“You know, I hear sweat’s supposed to weaken your grip on certain items,”

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he said playfully

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as he crossed over, intentionally walking to the pull up machine next to Anton and

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pulling himself up.

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“You think that’s happening here?”

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Anton slowly let the machine down, growling up at Rod.

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“I dunno, is it the same as how your skin always sheds?”

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he asked. Rod simply pulled himself up, grunting from the effort.

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“At least it comes off once and it’s over with,”

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he replied. “You just keep producing it.”

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“Sure, but I don’t have to explain to the gym

however:

owners why their trash bins are suddenly full when it happens here.”

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Anton pulled on the curling machine again, before lowering it again.

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“You know, like what happened in January.

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How does the missus even handle that?”

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“With dainty hands, the way she does everything else,”

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said Rod. “I’ll bet,” Anton replied. “She’d have to be in order to handle a tool like that.”

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“Oh, I’m sure you’d know,”

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Rod replied. He did another two reps,

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grunting as he held himself in place.

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“Lucky for me, my scales haven’t started shedding yet,

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so I’m good for a while now.”

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“Well, that’s a relief.” Anton exhaled before pulling up on the machine.

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“You think that—” And then, Anton paused,

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Rod also pausing

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midway through his rep

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as he looked down at the rhino.

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The rhino slowly lowered the weight,

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before he pulled away from the machine.

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“Greta?” Rod very nearly let go on the spot:

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as it was, he let himself gently,

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turning back towards where Anton’s gaze was trained.

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Indeed, there she was:

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Greta was nearly as big as he was thanks to that Cranston gene,

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so he imagined she had no trouble holding the duffel bag in her hand.

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She was dressed in the suit that Rod knew she had not been ready to give up yet, with its

however:

all-black jacket and tie.

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Rod’s tail smacked the ground, his eyes widening as he regarded her.

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He opened his jaw to say something, but clamped it shut.

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As soon as he looked her over, he noticed that her expression was not nearly as stern as it usually was:

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the sunglasses were held on her face, but even past that he could see the way her lower jaw quivered very slightly.

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As soon as he saw this Roderick knew something was off.

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“Greta?” asked Roderick.

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“Odd time and place for a family visit.

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How did you know I lived here?”

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“Long story,” Greta replied,

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glancing over her shoulder.

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“It’s important.” Roderick frowned, before turning back to the pull-up machine.

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“What could possibly be important enough for this?”

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he asked. “I can’t say, not here.”

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Greta breathed in, her breath rather shaky.

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“Please, Rod, hear me out.

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I need to talk to you, bad.”

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Rod paused, regarding Greta.

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The members of the Cranston bloodline had never been particularly close with each other:

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it was hard to be close in the criminal underworld,

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with Roderick stuck as an enforcer for the Kaiser

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nearly as long as Greta had been one of his runners. Roderick had gotten into the Kaiser’s good graces enough to leave on at least amicable terms,

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but he had a feeling he did not hold Greta in quite so high a regard.

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And now there she was in person, with a duffel bag in tow.

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Roderick took a deep breath,

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and looked over Greta again.

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When he did, he noticed then the way her arm trembled,

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the way her jaw quivered. It was only then he seriously took note of all those things,

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and the way she held the duffel bag

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almost protectively.

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And just under the sunglasses, she saw the single tear that was visible.

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Finally, Roderick sighed, before gesturing with his head towards the locker

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room. “Let’s talk in there, nobody’s in there at this hour.”

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Greta breathed in deeply.

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“Please,” she said, her voice sounding a little more desperate.

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This was the first of two parts of “Precious Cargo”

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by Herr Wozzeck,

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read for you by Rob MacWolf,

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fellow traveller. Tune in next time to find out what Greta wanted out of Roderick,

however:

and how he reacts to her proposition.

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As always, you can find more stories on the web

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at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

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The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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