Twenty minutes later, Jax stood in the shadows of the parking lot, watching the steam rise from the box left on the outdoor rack. As he grabbed the pizza and hurried back into the night, he deleted the pizzahut.anom file. In his world, the best tools were the ones you used once and then let vanish into the digital ether.
He placed the order for a Large Stuffed Crust—pick up, no contact.
He took a bite, the cheese still scalding. It tasted like victory, seasoned with a hint of paranoia.