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A Worse Idea 49

Prometheus was conscious of the way the seconds moved. Each one passed inexorably, bringing the cops closer to his location. Each second that passed was a second he hadn’t spent killing Randy.

Made things feel more urgent.

He didn’t want to kill this sad cyborg. But at the same time he did, didn’t he?

“What’s your name?” Prometheus asked.

“Katie,” Randy said.

“Your name.” Prometheus leaned in, his hand on the briefcase. He was all too aware of the power he kept in there. “Not hers.”

“I think I know why my father was always one step ahead of you,” Randy said. “He could see the future. Not much — just glimpses, just the most dangerous bits. He always saw you coming, Prometheus.”

Prometheus wanted to smite Randy right there and then. But there was something in Randy’s eyes. A sadness Prometheus remembered from when Katie was little.

“I should’ve called you earlier,” Randy said. “But I did call you. It took me years, but I did call you.”

Prometheus grabbed the table, pushing the chair away from it. It made a loud scraping sound against the tile.

“You’re not her,” Prometheus said.

“You’re right. I’m not her.” After several seconds, Randy nodded his head. “I’m sorry.”

More silence.

“What’s your name?” Prometheus asked.

“I need some fresh air.” Randy got out of his seat.

“Sit down,” Prometheus said.

“I just need to get outside.” Randy didn’t sit back down.

“Who are you?” Prometheus yelled.

“A little air will help me remember,” he began stumbling towards the door.

“I told you to sit back down!” Prometheus pressed a button on the suitcase. It opened up.

Randy didn’t listen. He ran at the door.

Pieces of armor flew out of the suitcase and onto Prometheus — looking like magic, but in fact being moved by the power of magnetism. Within half a minute, the pieces had clicked together, surrounding Prometheus’s body.

“Told that motherfucker to sit down,” Prometheus muttered to himself.

He followed Randy.

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