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A Worse Idea 47

When Prometheus walked into the fast food joint, he figured one of two things were likely to happen.


a) Nobody would be there. It might’ve been because the signal had somehow messed up, or someone had somehow taken Shade’s tracker and left it there.

or (and this seemed very likely by Prometheus’s estimation):

b) Shade was going to be sitting there, eating a meal, figuring out where to go next. She was running and she hadn’t told Anne. There was a good chance Anne would freak out — Prometheus knew very well that Anne wasn’t exactly what one might call “stable” — and the whole situation would be uncomfortable. Being with someone who cries at a fast food place? Well, it just had a way of making someone sad.

What Prometheus didn’t expect was another answer entirely. What actually happened was that:

c) Shade wasn’t there. Instead, Prometheus was looking at the cyborg who killed Katie.

“Anne,” Prometheus said, his voice as quiet as possible. “Call the police.”

Standing in the doorway of the fast food joint, with Anne right behind him and Randy just a few feet in front of him, Prometheus focused on his emotions.

Justice, Prometheus thought, Not revenge.

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