A New Answer To The Same Question

The new hero’s uniform was bright primary colours, one of the vaguely beetle-inspired looks they were spitting out this year with yellow goggles pressed over their eyes and an iridescent blue split cape reminiscent of elytra behind them. Dark skin, homemade pronoun pin stuck to the chest of their uniform, and they had to have had their hair done yesterday, because the bleach and the fade were both pin-perfect. They looked altogether too young and excited to be kitted out in combat gear, and their presence in Erin’s office was interrupting the flow state she had been in with her paperwork.

“Fuck off,” she told the power handler who’d brought the kid in. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“Foreboding is going to be working with you for the next few weeks, Prescience.” The handler’s expression was bland.

No. She didn’t want this. Not ever, but especially not now.

Or: Prescience is one week away from turning rogue.