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A Worse Idea 119

Anne was freaking the fuck out. To be fair, Anne was always freaking the fuck out.

But in this case? She had a very good reason to freak the fuck out: Prometheus could very well figure out she was murdering people with an app.

Like, what would her prison story be?

“Yeah, I killed some people… with an app.” That line just wouldn’t play well in prison.

Then again, it’s not like she’d only killed people using an app. Like, she killed Ricky using a laser saw! That’s pretty cool!

But it was accidental murder. And he’d invaded her personal space. So really she considered that self-defense, as opposed to stone-cold murder.

She’d also killed David with a harpoon, though, and that was dope as hell.

Sitting in her bedroom, her head leaned against the dorm’s wall, she took comfort in that fact: she had a fantastic story to tell fellow inmates in prison.

Oh my balls, Anne thought. I can’t go to prison. Why is this even… I’ve gotta get my phone back.

“Fuck,” she said, getting out of bed.

“This is gonna get so ugly.” She grabbed her laser saw, which lay on the dresser next to her bed.

“You’ll figure it out,” Anne told herself. “You’ve got this. You’re gonna… You’re gonna be fine.”

She left her bedroom, planning to go and get the phone back from Prometheus.

She felt un-fine. She felt very un-fine indeed.

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