Free The Distort Arc: Cape High Books 1-4 (Cape High Series Omnibus) by R.J. Ross

with two teenage kids that he's never even heard of and a job he's never wanted.  He's even expected to claim them.  It wasn't like they could live in a foster home, not now.  He'd protested that, too, saying he had no experience as a father, but here he is, being sent off.
    "Yes.  Their caseworker has already been informed.  I can only hope that she's informed the foster parents.  And here's your papers--all legal and everything.  You'll be staying in a three room apartment near the school grounds," Mastermental says, handing more and more papers to him.  "You were in Iraq, on duty," he adds.  "Your military credentials are in this file."  Yet another files is plopped onto the last.
    "I've not been in Iraq for over twenty years," Nico complains.  "And it was only to fly over it at the time.  How am I supposed to pull that one off?"
    "Say you'd rather not talk about it," Mastermental says.  "Most vets don't."
    "Fine," Nico says, sticking the massive pile of papers under his arm.  "And a car?" he asks.  "I can't just walk up to the house and expect them to think I'm picking up my kids."
    "There's a junkyard a few blocks down."
    Nico started to laugh--except Mastermental looks perfectly serious.  "You're serious."
    "You're a technopath, I'm sure you have your pick of cars."
    "But--that--fine!  I'm an ex-marine driving a jalopy and picking up kids I haven't seen--"
    "Since they were babies," Mastermental provides.
    "Since they were babies.  Fine.  Nice cover story," he says dryly as he walks away.
    Taking to the air he stops and scouts out the land before heading for the junkyard Double M mentioned.  Half an hour later the sun is starting to set and he's driving down the street in a 1978 firebird that needs a new paintjob.  It runs, thanks to him, and the interior is actually halfway decent, save for a hole in the back seat.  It's only when he pulls into the driveway of an old fashioned looking two story house that he wonders if he should have gotten something with more doors.
    Too late now, Nico decides as he grabs all the papers from the passenger seat and gets out.  He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, both borrowed from Mega, so they fit well enough.  It's only his boots that remain--black and sleek looking, not to mention made from the power inhibiting material that the rest of his prison outfit had been.  He’ll have to go shopping for clothes, he thinks as he heads up the path to the front porch.
    The door opens about ten minutes after he rings the bell.  A teenage girl with long brown hair and glasses stares at him blankly, looking at his face, then at his hair.  She steps back.  "Marrrrgee?  We have a pro wrestler at the door!" she yells over her shoulder.
    "I'm not a pro wrestler," Nico says.  "I'm an ex-marine."
    "He says he's a marine!" she yells over her shoulder again.  "Hey, you're one of the bad guys, right?" she asks him.  "Does it pay well?"
    He stares at her, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to answer that.  He's pretty certain this isn't his kid, thanks to the pictures.  He can only thank God for that fact.
    "You look familiar, are you on WWF?" she asks.  "I don't watch it, but some of the guys do--"
    A bustling noise comes from behind her and Nico looks over her head at the woman heading down the hallway.  She’s a moderately heavy woman who looks like she's been cooking.  "Forgive her," she says, tugging the teenage girl back.  "Is there something I can do for you, Mister...?"
    "Nico Walters," Nico provides.  They hadn't let him keep his last name, saying people might get curious.  "I've come to claim my kids."
    "I see, and their names?"
    "Zoe and Sunny Rosenthorn," he says, digging through the folders to pull out the paperwork showing he had claim to them.  As far as he could tell, the Hall had either forged them or had a very, very good person in a very high legal position.  "Sorry it's such short notice--"
    "Yes, their caseworker called earlier...