Prometheus’s suit rang.
“Incoming call from Anne,” the soft feminine voice of the suit said.
“Shit,” Prometheus muttered, holding onto the roof of the car for his life. The suit wasn’t supposed to receive calls when he was in a fight, but he hadn’t really worked that hard on making sure the cell phone hook up to his suit worked properly. Other things had always seemed more important (or, perhaps, just cooler): making the suit fly faster, hit harder, look shinier.
Prometheus said, “Send to voicemail.”
“Picking up call…” the suit said.
“No, no, that’s not what I fucking–” Prometheus was cut off.
Anne’s voice on the other side of the line.
“You better not be offering this job cause I’m some charity case or whatever,” Anne said.
Two bullets shot through the roof of the car, just barely missing Prometheus.
“SON of a BITCH!” he yelled. The comment was rude but understandable, given the circumstances.
“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Anne said. “Are you a real jackass to your employees? Because I’m fine financially and I don’t even know why I want to take your stupid job offer. I’m considering it, but if you’re going to be an asshole–”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a little distracted right now.”
“Oh, are you…” Anne began to realize that she’d heard gunshots, not popcorn popping. “Are you in the middle of a thing? A superhero thing?”
Prometheus slammed two of his fingers into the bullet holes, pulling part of the car’s roof off. “Yeah, it’s a superhero thing.”
The hitman looked up at Prometheus with dead eyes.
Creepy motherfucker, Prometheus thought.
“Pull over the vehicle!” Prometheus yelled at the hitman.
The hitman did not pull over.
“Can I call you back or something?” Anne asked. “I’m not blaming you for the fact that this is awkward, but this is a little awkward.”
The car swerved to the left, nearly throwing Prometheus off. Prometheus hung onto the edge of the car roof.
“No, no, don’t hang up.” Prometheus absolutely didn’t trust her to call him back. He’d been through enough negotiations to know that you didn’t want to leave a deal unfinished, if someone was willing to negotiate but unsure. He figured giving Anne too much time to think would lead her to reject his offer.
The car swerved to the right. Prometheus hung onto the edge of the car roof. He lifted his knees in the air, so that his feet didn’t touch the asphalt. His helmet sat against the driver’s side window. The hitman still didn’t show emotion.
“Now that I think about it, I am blaming you,” Anne said. “I can’t believe you hooked your phone up to your suit? This is so uncomfortable.”
“Won’t take long.” Prometheus craned his neck just enough to avoid another shot from the hitman’s gun.
“Okay?” Anne said. “I’ll sit here on the phone while you punch people?”
Prometheus smashed his fist through the driver’s window, grabbing the hitman’s neck. “I’m just about ready to get to the punching part.”