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A Terrible Idea 5

Meanwhile — as Galactic Man talked with his wife in Virginia, and Superfreak introduced himself as a resurrected David in Boca Raton — Anne sat on a couch in her dorm room, fiddling with a blaster. She was currently using a pair of tweezers to get a piece of dirt out of the circuits.

The blaster’s power was off, but it was still a pretty stupid thing to be doing.

She fiddled with the device while the TV played a rerun of Real Superheroes of Miami.

Currently the show was featuring Katherine, this dumb vampire-slaying bitch who totally wasn’t a superhero. She was a former ex-vampire herself, and there was a lot of debate about this, but vampires and metahumans were two wholly non-co-existent types of people.

Of course, Katherine had an interesting personality (as well as interesting boobs, which is the real reason why Anne was so intrigued whenever she came on). So the producers had let her onto the show.

Katherine crept through a sepulchre, stake in hand. A vampire leaped out of the shadows, one pale arm grabbing her wrist to prevent him from stabbing her — the other arm wrapping itself around her neck.

“Katherine,” the vampire said, his voice ghoulish, “you must be aware that you can’t escape your past.”

“Grab me tighter, daddy,” Katherine whispered.

“I’m not your…” The vampire loosened his grip, showing an equal mix of concern and confusion. “Is this a sex thing for you?”

Katherine laughed, breaking free of the vampire’s now-loose grip. She spun around and stabbed the vampire in the gut, only for him to quickly turn to dust.

“HA!” she yelled, doing a nice, flashy fist pump.

Anne grumbled, turning off the TV. “Can’t escape the past? Fuck the past. I’m gonna beat the shit out of the past. Galactic Man thinks he can just… David was all like… All these motherfuckers… Fuck ‘em.”

No matter how she angled the tweezers, they weren’t big enough to fit through the tiny space the dirt had slipped into. This frustrated her immensely — just like the past several weeks had been frustrating, waiting for a call back from Jennifer, only to hear nothing. She messed with the tweezers and messed with the tweezers, abandoning logic and just trying to jam the little metal things into the even littler hole.

Until finally, blissfully, the phone rang.

It was Metahuman Affairs. It was Jennifer.

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