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A Terrible Idea 8

The next interview proved significantly less bloody. It was conducted shortly after the previous one was fully cleaned up — shortly after the janitors scrubbed the blood off the floor, walls, and furniture, while making sure to leave a little vial of it on Jennifer’s desk, just like she’d requested.

The interviewer was a true C-list villain who went by the name The Vanisher.

She came into the room with only one guard — a somewhat unimpressive fella wearing a black cap with the letters, “MA,” inscribed on the front. As soon as The Vanisher was seated, he left the room.

Jennifer knew she didn’t have to pull any sort of power play to have the upper-hand in this discussion.

Already, The Vanisher had a nervous look about her: short back hair gelled, big beady brown eyes, tiny ears looking like they couldn’t handle the weight of any heavy words. The lady was eighty-something, so her frailty wasn’t too surprising.

The Vanisher stared at Jennifer’s painting. As if Jennifer didn’t know the painting that hung in her own office, she swivelled her chair around and looked.

“You like it?” Jennifer asked.

“Mhm.” The Vanisher sort of fell into the office chair.

“You and I both know you’re a thief, but I was still surprised to see you land back in prison.” Even though Jennifer knew the power play was unnecessary, she just couldn’t help herself.

“Yeah, suppose you could say something about old dogs and new tricks.” The Vanisher flashed a toothy. Jennifer returned with a small, toothless pity-smile.

Jennifer leaned in. “What are your thoughts on murder?”

The Vanisher grabbed her arm, pinching herself. “Old dog, new tricks.”

Jennifer nodded her head. She knew The Vanisher wouldn’t be keen on murdering. Still, having someone like her on the team — someone with a bit of a conscience, even if they also had a kleptomania problem — could prove useful. As well, the ability to transport was valuable: if something went wrong (and it always did), The Vanisher could transport herself wherever the help was needed.

“You seemed to have a pretty nice life on the outside. I saw you in all those commercials, saying you only ever wanted to steal gold.” Jennifer chuckled. “The gold never was yours, though. You’re like some live action Trix Rabbit.”

Jennifer looked at one of the papers on her desk. “I see you had a condo on the beach. We also found several bottles of wine in your wine cooler — vintage, expensive, stolen.”

The Vanisher nodded her head.

“I imagine prison isn’t quite as nice as the life you made for yourself. Would you be interested in a reduced sentence?”

“Mhm.” The Vanisher looked at Jennifer wide-eyed, waiting for the terrible catch.

“You’re not going to have to pull the trigger. But if you want to take my deal, you’re going to have to join my team. And things are going to get a bit messy.”

The Vanisher nodded her head. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. The moment she’d walked into the room, Jennifer knew her deal was going to be accepted.

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