2 Works in Finder (Comics)
Jaeger weighs the drive in his hand. It’s no larger than his thumb. A name and IP address engraved on its body. If it’s glittery fox-head cap were removed it would reveal a jack meant to plug directly into a kid’s brain. There’s more to it, probably, but More or less.
The IP address is the same sort Marcie’s got. This is a student’s. And nobody carries around external drives if they’ve got the money and self-preservation to help it— so a student and a broke one at that.
Jaeger glances back over his shoulder at the street vendor, up the pipe venting oxygen down from the day districts. Rolls gleaming yellow eyes toward the ceiling and sighs. “Fuckin’ fine.”
- Part 2 of Poetry