John Marshall sat, infuriated at his over sized desk, in his not so governmentally appointed office.  Opulence wasn’t allowed but that didn’t mean that position didn’t have its benefits.  For instance, his chair was the same or better than the ones those god damned federal judges sat their judgmental, liberal asses on.  But his chair wasn’t what had his attention at this moment, the computer screen was his current nemesis.

Of course his desk held all the electronic toys as befitting a prosecutor who had recently found his best criminal hunting ground to be online.  Files were meticulously ordered by color, time sensitivity and political importance.  Every aspect of the office and his computer desktop were matched in style and substance to his carefully crafted image of power and ruthlessness for which he had become known across the state.

Even his scowl matched the severity of the office as he stared angrily at his computer.   He fumed the overtly sexual pictures on the Power Exchange web site.  Only his language betrayed his underlying personality, “Stupid bitch.  Stupid, god damned, fucking, whoring, cunt bitch.”

His secretary opened his door as he spat out the last few words.  She fled the scene as Scott Hunter tentatively slithered in holding a folder entitled Power Exchange Prosecution.