Prometheus had been in the garage for eight hours. One Sharise had left the garage, only to be replaced by the other Sharise.
No matter how hard he tried, Prometheus couldn’t unlock the phone.
“I really don’t know if I’m gonna be able to unlock this phone.”
Prometheus was having difficulty for several reasons, but chief among them was this: Anne just had a better mind when it came to technology.
Prometheus was far from a slouch, of course. He’d worked on the original Prometheus suit designs himself, and he was constantly tinkering with things.
But he was also involved in many fields. Constantly checking his stocks, running his company, punching bad guys in the face. It just didn’t leave as much room for obsessive thinking about technology.
And so it was that Prometheus proved unable to crack open the phone.
“You better crack it soon,” Sharise said. “You have to give Anne that phone back tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know,” Prometheus grunted. “I think–”
The phone rang.
Prometheus looked at Sharise; Sharise looked at Prometheus.
“Well?” Sharise said.
Prometheus picked it up.
“Anne,” the feminine voice on the other end of the line said.
Prometheus held his breath and didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, the lady hung up.
“Who was it?” Sharise asked.
“I don’t know,” Prometheus said. “Woman in her late thirties, early forties. I–”
He was interrupted by another ringtone. His initial reaction was to look at Anne’s phone. Then he realized it was his own cellphone. He took it out of his pocket.
“Hello?” Prometheus asked.
The voice on the other end of the line was a Metahuman Affairs agent, “We’ve got a situation. Randy’s escaped prison. Since you took him down last time, we’d like your help here.”
The news hit Prometheus like a punch to the gut. He looked at Anne’s phone, but realized it didn’t matter.
Katie needs me.
Prometheus said, “I’m suiting up. Tell me where he was last seen, and I’m on my way.”