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A Worse Idea 131

Prometheus and Randy both landed on the asphalt, hard. Metal scraped against metal scraped against skin scraped against asphalt.

The shock of the impact left both of them unmoving for half a second. Prometheus moved first. In the tangle of limbs that he and Randy had become, Prometheus moved his elbow back.

Slammed his fist into Randy’s face. In that punch was all of the guilt he’d felt over not being able to help Katie, as well as all of the anger he had for having been so guilty.

I did my best. Tried my hardest. You are not my fault, he thought.

Randy grabbed the side of Prometheus’s helmet, throwing him off. Randy then got the upper hand, throwing a punch at Prometheus. It landed. There wasn’t any anger or hurt or even emotion in Randy’s punch.

“I have to go,” Randy said. “I have to live. I have to kill Anne.”

Those words hit Prometheus harder than any punch could. As if to prove the point, Randy threw another punch at Prometheus. It landed, but Prometheus barely noticed.

“Why?” Prometheus asked. “Why do you have to kill Anne?” He threw Randy off of him. Got on top, held his arms down and asked again. “Why are you doing this?”

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