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A Worse Idea 5

Eating a piece of fish at the table, taking comfort in the fact that Prometheus shouldn’t be able to recognize her as an adult, Katie was hit with a vision.

It was sort of like daydreaming. She could still see her surroundings, but she was less conscious of them. Instead, she was focused on the future.

Specifically, she was focused on the sight of a clean-cut white guy: nice Polo shirt, gelled black hair, a tan that indicated he spent time in the sun (but not too much time in the sun).

In the vision, his hands were wrapped around her throat. She was shoved against the hood of her car. Her hands were wrapped around his wrists, her foot was slamming into his shin. But it was to no avail. He didn’t look hurt. His flesh didn’t feel very much like flesh at all. Felt synthetic.

In her vision, the man smiled.

Katie decided it was time to leave.

A part of her wanted to kill the girl she’d come here to kill, but this was too public a space. And anyway, that would mean fighting Prometheus. She knew better than to do that.

She got out of her seat, slipped a hand in her purse. The hand graced her gun. It would be so much easier to kill Shade.

But if Katie’s vision was to be trusted, she herself was in trouble. There was a man coming for her, for her life.


The question wasn’t really worth asking, at least for the moment. Not while she had to focus on getting as far away from danger as possible.

She found the fifty dollar bill in her purse. Took it out and set it on the table.

She quickly walked past the bar and out the door.

Prometheus watched Katie go. As the door closed, he couldn’t help but wonder why she looked so damn familiar.

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