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A Worse Idea 84

Anne sat down in the chair across from the Bureau of Metahuman Affairs agent.

“Haha, hi. It’s, uh, funny seeing you here. At this place. Where you work. Actually it makes sense I guess.”

The agent smiled. She had long blonde hair and a smile that could challenge the Devil. Every fiber of her being — the suit jacket, her stance, those piercing green eyes — seemed designed to communicate one message. This was the woman with whom you did not fuck.

“Good to see you again, Anne.”

Anne was a strong contrast with the agent. She was hunched over and nervous. A little dirty. At the same time, she was also a woman with whom you did not fuck.

“Yeah,” Anne said, “sorry I don’t have any weapons right now that the government can steal, er, sorry, I mean borrow.” Anne blushed.

Her nerves weren’t helped by the picture that was directly behind the agent.

It was a massive painting of a naked woman. The painted woman lay across a sofa. If her lusty eyes were any indication, she was a woman with whom you could probably fuck, so long as you asked nicely.

The agent smiled. “Yes? Do you want to tell me why you came here to see me?”

“Well,” Anne said. Don’t say boobs, don’t say boobs, don’t say boobs.  “Uh, what’s your name?”

“That’s not why you came here to see me.”

“No, but, uh, like what is it?”

“Call me Jennifer,” the agent said.

“Is that your name?”

Jennifer couldn’t stop smiling, because Anne was just so damn ridiculous. “No.”

“Alright, uh, Jennifer,” Anne said. She was so nervous her hands were shaking. “What I, uh, you know. I’ve got weapons? That I wanna… talk…. about.”

“Let me stop you right there. This is sad, and I already know what you’re looking for.” The desk wasn’t particularly organized, with all sorts of loose papers and classified documents strewn about. But Jennifer still somehow managed to navigate the mess with ease. Her hand plucked up a folder, then handed it to Anne.

Anne grabbed the folder. “Thanks. Okay. I always wanted… government secrets?”

“The name, MO, and last-known location of the person you’re looking to deal with,” Jennifer said.

Anne’s eyes widened yet again. She held the manilla folder in her hands, then began to flip through it. There were only three sheets of paper in there so she looked sort of dumb. But let’s be real: Anne looking dumb isn’t an unheard of occurrence.

“Deal with, yeah,” Anne said. “I’m going to give this person a firm talking-to an–”

“You’re going to murder them,” Jennifer said.

Anne’s eyes tried to widen, but they were literally so wide already that it didn’t work.

Whaaaaaaaaaaat?” Anne asked. “No. Me? Murder someone? Haha you’re such a kidster.”

“I’d like us to become friends, Anne,” Jennifer said, thinking some very unfriendly thoughts. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other, do they?”

“No?”

“That’s right,” Jennifer said. “Feel free to go now. You’ve got a lot of work to do. But just know that we’ll keep in touch.”

Anne’s knees wobbled as she got up off the chair. She scurried out of the room, unsure of what had hit her.

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