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A Worse Idea 41

A few minutes passed.

“I’m actually sorry to bug you with all this shit,” Anne said, looking out the car window at a row of condominiums. Years ago, when she was a kid, she was able to see the ocean view. But then they’d built tons of huge condominiums, because apparently there hadn’t already been enough places for old people to rot away in Boca Raton, FL. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.”

“It’s good for me to get out,” Prometheus said, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“I mean, I’m sorry about your friend.” Anne could hear her own heart beating. She felt like it was always beating so fast these days. “I know how you vigilante types always have to do your thing when a friend dies.”

Prometheus didn’t say a word. He knew what she meant, but he didn’t want to.

“You find her killer yet?” Anne asked.

“I’m not going to, Anne. That’s not my job.”

“Yeah, it’s not your job. But that’s still what heroes do, right? They, like, avenge people. Do shit the law can’t.”

“If that’s what you think, I can see why you don’t like superheroes,” Prometheus said. “I’m letting the cops take care of it.”

“She was your friend.”

“She was involved in a dangerous business. I’m not saying she deserved what she got. God, no one ever could. But I don’t know that she was innocent, either.”

“No one’s innocent,” Anne said. She looked over at Prometheus, then focused her gaze on the dashboard in front of her. “Not really. There’s all this societal bullshit we’re complicit in, day after day. We live in a society where money is god and gays are the devil and it’s all a load of horseshit. I don’t even mind that superheroes act like they’re above the law. It’s when they act so fucking smug about it. Like what they do actually makes them good people. That’s what bothers me.”

Prometheus kept his eyes on the asphalt. Anne had a long road ahead of her.

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