One day, Nick Sexton walked out of his job and into a lucrative second career as a con artist.

It was around the time the election was overturned and the court struck down term limits, and Sexton had been in the teacher’s lounge, watching events unfold and stewing in anger. Then he’d had an epiphany.

If lying and cheating is what got those people there, then what the hell was he doing there, being honest for no gain whatsoever? He could face down a classroom full of snot-nosed seventh-graders, so what terrors could the world possibly hold beyond that?

And Sexton’s lies and scams, well, they wouldn’t get people killed. There were always people with more dollars than sense.

And so he walked out of the teacher’s lounge and down to the computer IT lab, where 1000 expensive titanium computers were being prepared for the latest crop of rich, spoiled private school brats. Flashing an ID badge he had palmed, he had the techs load up the units into the van for a ‘software upgrade.’

The next day he was already two states over, having stopped at every pawnshop in every town he passed through to sell a laptop. When he ran out of those, he sold the van. By the time anyone knew to look for him, he was gone–with about a quarter million dollars in cash, to boot.

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