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A Worse Idea 81

Anne kept her head down as she walked towards the office for the local branch of the Bureau of Metahuman Affairs. She felt a little weird doing so.

Like, unnatural.

Should she have worn a hoodie? Wasn’t that what sketchy hacker people did? Wear hoodies? And… drink energy drinks? Eat skittles, maybe?

No, no hoodie, Anne thought to herself. That’s how they know you’re sketchy.

Besides, it was Florida. You couldn’t wear a hoodie in Florida, except on the cold days of the year, of which there were very few.

Anne scratched the back of her head, as she walked through the parking lot of the office building.

They’re going to know I’m a ginger. There are only like three of us in Boca, so that’s going to be a problem. Damn my ginger-ness.

She began whistling, to elude suspicion.

Actually that probably makes me look really suspicious.

She stopped whistling.

She kept scratching the back of her head though, because she figured that would partially disguise her short-haired gingery-ness.

That probably looks suspicious, too.

She stopped scratching the back of her head.

The office building loomed before her. Big and imposing. Her plan was simple, or at least she thought it was pretty simple: get into their server room, hack into the system, find the info she needed, get out.

She walked through the sliding glass doors and entered the lobby.

“Oh boy,” she muttered to herself.

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