Clara sat at a desk in an abandoned warehouse in a neglected part of the city with a wall of monitors behind her, blacked out with nothing playing on them. She typed furiously on the computer in front of her, working diligently on a project Bellona had given her to infiltrate a heavily encrypted computer stolen from a wealthy man suspected of running a ring of prostitution of minors.
She hated men like this, the ones who viewed their fame and fortune as an excuse for having no moral compass. Men who thought because they had so much money, so many high-powered friends, they were incapable of being caught or worse, even if caught, they would get away with it. They blackmailed or implicated enough of their wealthy community dragging one down often meant dragging down multiple people in a col
