“I’ve really tried to help you, Anne. Have you seen that?” Prometheus asked.
Anne kept her eyes firmly on the floor. She knew she couldn’t look at him.
“What’s this about?” she asked.
Prometheus sighed, shoulders hunched over as he watched Anne — looking for a tell, something that would tell him whether she was guilty or not. But it was hard to tell, with Anne. She was so anxious, so unstable, so hurt. Of course she was nervous. But was she nervous because she was guilty, or because she was trying to hide her crimes from him?
“Metahuman Affairs found Shade’s killer. At least, they think they did.”
Anne’s stomach flopped. Shade’s killer.
“Who did it?”
“Professional assassin named Janet. Worked for The Killer’s Gallery,” Prometheus said.
Anne stood up, acting like she didn’t know the full truth. “We have to–”
Anne sat down. She took in slow, deep breaths.
She felt so confused. Shade’s killer was dead. Shouldn’t she be happy about that? She’d killed Shade’s killer, which is exactly what she’d set out to do.
But she wasn’t happy. This was all coming back to haunt her. She fought day after day to try and make life better — to try and get justice, get what she deserved, live a good life.
But people like Prometheus always got in the way of that. They didn’t understand the trauma she’d been through. They were always looking down on her, trying to get one up on her.
This, she realized, was an important moment in her life. She had to trick Prometheus. Make him believe what she said.
And so, in response to the news that Shade’s killer was dead, Anne said the most believable thing she could think of.