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A Worse Idea 15

“Ugh,” Anne said, sitting at home on her cellphone while Prometheus had his hand wrapped around the hitman’s throat.

“Ugh?” Prometheus said.

The hitman raised his gun to shoot, but Prometheus grabbed the gun.

“I can already tell you’re one of those macho heroes,” Anne said. “You know, like, with the catchphrases and stuff?”

“I do sort of enjoy this, actually.” Prometheus couldn’t get it out of the hitman’s surprisingly strong grip, but he managed to crush the barrel of the gun with the strength of his metal gauntlet.

“People like you, the heroes. I wonder if there’d be less fights if you guys didn’t like fighting so much,” Anne said.

“Bad guys need to be stopped. That’s all I know,” Prometheus said.

He punched the hitman in the face. The guy’s head turned slightly, but it wasn’t as much a reaction as Prometheus had been hoping for.

Also, surprisingly, the guy was still managing to drive in a perfectly straight line.

The guy was putting serious pressure on the arm of Prometheus’s suit. Figuring the guy was probably super strong, Prometheus punched him a little harder.

Skin came off, but no blood. Didn’t look like real skin, either, the way it stuck to Prometheus’s glove.

The hitman had a metal face underneath the fake skin.

“Shit,” Prometheus said. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

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