This is a Friday Fictioneers submission for 6th June. Thanks to Doug McIlroy for the photo.
Without the Internet, he had no doubt he’d have ending up firing gunshots indiscriminately in the precinct by now. It would have been the only way to keep himself from being devoured by the overwhelming sense of anomie. Instead, he’d been given a chance to be good at something, to make an identity for himself.
A message flashed onscreen-Your Order Has Been Dispatched. He smiled.
The idea had come to him from an old Hitchcock film. It was far easier to avoid detection for one’s crimes if someone else could be persuaded to carry them out. Granted, a little quid pro quo was to be expected, but there were always violent men in need of a little hacking expertise and the Internet was the greatest labour exchange device there was.
He blew out a…
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