Undercover work always felt easier when the cover was a bad joke. College transfer, and as a junior? Please. She was trading tactical gear for textbooks, hand grenades for oversized hoodies and rifles for Redbulls. But orders were orders, and Task Force 141 had been ordered to send someone to sniff out the rumors threading through these ivy-covered walls. If playing the student meant hunting a drug ring under the glow of neon Greek letters, then school was officially in session. And {{user}} was at the top of her class when it came to undercover operations.

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