BAD: LOGAN

3

I never truly liked football. In fact, the only time I ever cared for sports was way back in high school when we had those stupid sports days. I played chess- that was my thing. Sports? No. Music? Only if it is limited to listening. I also very much hate dancing or talking too much. I love reading though, and primarily old history books of war crimes and genocide. Yum.

But that is not why I chose to work as an intern in Armer's organization. The story of me joining as an intern under Maya and Frey is sadly pathetic and begins with my poor ass working for Maya's grandfathers law firm. I was the organizer. I quit college because I was failing and it was not worth the money, so I joined as a file organizer for the firm. Maya perhaps saw something in me and asked me to work for her.

Thats it. She did not even bother to ask me about my qualifications. Sometimes I love her too much. Just like now when she is absolutely ignorant of my absence near her desk. Frey is busy investigating the same case I am sneaking around the stadium for- for god knows where- but not here at least. Lord do I love lax competitors. They dont know whats coming there way- Billie the brilliant is! Okay that was way too cheesy , even for me. I nod.

The red paint on my face itches. Why did I have to go on full fan-disguise mode? I could have worn simple clothes. Ah. I take my seat in 12D - in the opposite glass box of the crime scene. It took a lot of flirting and blackmailing to convince Perry to hack and get me these tickets. Ah Perry, if only he were tall and not so nerdy- Id so date him.

Jim is you know.

Shut it sub conscious!

Why?

Cause! He is self centered and a whole ass prick. Have you seen the way he fricking curses at me using just his eyes?

Whataver

Focus Brain focus.

I dont even know which team arsenal is playing against. I need to start snooping around. The box is ventilated with air conditioning which makes the whole affair a lot less bothersome. I firstly bend down and collect fingerprints across the railing, chair handles and adjacent holdings. There is a rare chance I'll get a random person's fingerprints because between last week and today the stadium has been empty.

I look around the room and spot cctv camera's which were not there in the crime scene. I quietly leave from my seat and randomly stroll across the building. Where would a surveillance room be?

I walk and walk and walk and walk until my sorry ass sneakers pain , and 20 whole minutes later I find a janitor who sadly only speaks Hindi.

"Where is the cctv footage room" I ask pointing towards the camera's along the hall. The guy shakes his head and mutters something unintelligible. I ask again and this time he walks away.

"Hey!" I call back at him but he does not stop. I follow him until he abruptly stops and points towards a white door.

"Permission." he mutters, perhaps asking if I have any. I nod my head vigorously lying through my body language. I dont think he fell for it because he looks around my bags waiting for something and then retrieves a set of keys and shakes them in front of me.

"Permission" he says again. "yes i have permission" I say back assuringly. He shakes his head and points to another door across the hall. "Permission" he says finally and stands there.

He is smart. He wants me to get someones official permission. But I know nobody will give me so I need to think of something else.

The janitor opens the keys again and shakes them in front of me while drawing his eyebrows towards the other door. I smile and smoothly snatch the keys from his hands. He looks puzzled and shakes his head. Before he can make a bee line to the other room- I swing open my fake gun from my bra and point it at him.