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A Worse Idea 42

Prometheus took in a deep breath. “I hated heroes once, too.”

“Ugh, you’re trying to be relatable?” Anne asked. “You’re a rich old guy. You’re not relatable. You’re old.”

Prometheus didn’t say a word. He just looked at Anne. A bit of a smile slipped onto his lips, to spite him.

“Alright, I want to hear your stupid story,” Anne said.

“It’s all in my name: Prometheus. It’s the old Greek hero, the man who stole the fire from the gods.”

Anne almost made a comment about him being a condescending douche bag, but he was actually being sort of nice to her, so she bit her tongue.

“Back in the Eighties, I didn’t like the idea of all these metahumans running around. There were all those people out there who thought they were better than me. All that untapped power. So I did whatever I could to imitate their powers. Figured out how to technologically mimic them. Eventually that made me one of them.”

“So you became what you hated,” Anne said.

Prometheus nodded his head. “Which made me learn not to hate it.”

“That doesn’t bother you though?” Anne said. “You set out to be able to fight the good guys, then you became one of them.”

“I realized you can’t hold onto anger forever,” he said. “I was wild in those days. Copied some people I shouldn’t have. Punched some people who maybe didn’t deserve to be punched. I was wild. Reckless. Almost crossed some lines I wouldn’t have been able to uncross.”

“What happened?”

“Watching the heroes for so long, I began to emulate them. It’s good to have people in your life who’re better than you, who’ve done better and gone farther. Eventually, I became thankful that those bastards were a step or two ahead of me. They made me realize I had too much of an ego.”

“I can see you still have a ways to go with that problem,” Anne said.

“Do you see what I’m getting at?”

Anne had to think about it for a few seconds. “No.”

“I wasn’t a good man when I started building my suit. But the people I looked towards were, so that changed me.”

“Do you really think I’m going to look up to a bunch of cape-wearing assholes?” Anne asked. “I mean really?”

“Doesn’t even have to be superheroes. I think they’d be good role models, but it could be anybody. Maybe a famous scientist or inventor. Could be a teacher, a religious figure, hell, even some celebrities would work. But you just have to find someone who’ll make you go places.”

Anne sat there in silence.

Finally, Prometheus said, “Shade isn’t that person.”

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