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A Worse Idea 141

The cops arrived shortly after The Angels of Heck left. They had a lot of questions: why were these killers coming after Anne, where did they go, and why was there jizz everywhere? At the end of the day, they were honestly too tired and overworked to give a shit. And so they left, promising to do a bunch of shit they weren’t going to do.

With the interviews done, Prometheus was allowed back into his garage. As well, Anne had the opportunity to take off the Prometheus suit. That meant Prometheus, Sharise, and Anne were sitting in Prometheus’s garage. They weren’t working on science, or testing anything out, or getting ready to fight bad guys. They were just sitting there, trying to process everything that had happened.

After what felt like an ungodly silence, Prometheus said, “Sharise, go home.”

“My clone isn’t supposed to come in for another–”

“I know,” he said, unable to remember the last time neither Sharise had been in the garage. “Go home, Sharise.”

“Alright. If you insist, boss man.” Sharise got up and walked towards her car. “I really need a shower, anyway.”

Anne felt her heart in her throat. Every moment that passed seemed less and less bearable.

She watched Sharise get into the car. She watched Prometheus open the garage door. She watched Sharise drive away.

Prometheus turned to her. He said, “We have a lot to talk about.”

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