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A Worse Idea 18

Dead tired and with a hitman gaining speed on her, with Prometheus gone and a fate that hinted at fatality, Katie knew she was in trouble.

She looked at the reflection of the headlights in her rearview mirror. She took a deep breath and did what any rational human being would do.

She fiddled with the music in her car. Her car was able to hold six discs at a time, so she clicked on the “3” button on her console, bringing up one of the greatest songs of all: ABBA’s “Mama Mia.”

With god’s gift to music playing in her car, Katie perked up a bit. Yeah, this guy was fucking insane. Yeah, his head was on fire, it seemed like he couldn’t be stopped, and he’d haunted her visions.

But you know what she had? A car that went fast, and a gun that went bang bang. When some people got a hold of guns, they were awful. But when she got hold of guns?

They were fuckin’ rad.

The hitman sped towards her. His car swerved into another lane, then moved forward until it was speeding right next to her. The car began to move in her direction.

She leveled the gun in his direction. Pulled the trigger.

The bullet ricocheted off the hitman’s metal head. He sat there in the car, his head on fire, the car roof half-torn up. Clearly, he was in some deep shit.

Clearly, he needed to regroup. So he sped off into the night, leaving Katie behind.

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