“what,” Anne muttered to her self, last she remembered was David’s hand at her throat as he stood at her front door choking the life from her and the bliss of knowing it was all going to end.

asshole, how fucking dare he kill me, sure I killed his dad, his friend and him but they totally had it coming.

Promptly turning around walking into her kitchen Anne completely failed to notice the bareness of both herself and her entire house, not that there had been much furniture to begin with but when your hobby is mad science you work never quite finds itself staying in its work shop and instead creeps across any empty space of floor, table or flat surface really.

Despite her newfound and promptly dismissed life, finding the fridge empty was by far more surprising.

Why is the fridge empty, its never empty? Hell I made this thing to order food before it even gets close to empty, no fucking way its broken, thing was supposed to maintenance free. Holy shit I’m cold, why am I cold? Oh.

Running upstairs only to find her bedroom completely empty and all her cloths gone was not much of a mood lifter. And for all Anne’s genius, figuring out why she was A naked and B someone had stolen all her shit was not coming easily.

What. The. shit. David.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Anne didn’t keep many friends and for good reason too since most people don’t take to kindly to you killing the single most famous and powerful super hero on the planet, even if you did it in justifiable self defence, not to mention the guy was a prick. Contacts however Anne did have, and while their option of her may not have been jolly (take in mind the whole killing galactic man thing), she still had favour with the scientific community considering she was dam good at science and depression and insanity are just old hat to the scientific community.

Standing again in her kitchen Anne was thankful that David had at least the decency to not tear her landline phone out of the wall on top of nearly killing her and stealing all her shit.

Oh fuck I can’t believe I’m calling him, I mean its not like we haven’t talked since the whole killers gallery incident but that was just exchanging notes and this is well… Maybe I should call the police, actually fuck the police, mad scientists don’t go calling the police.

“Hey Prometheus, Anne speaking. Don’t think I could ask for a favour?”

“Anne you’re dead”

“What. No. if I’m dead how come I’m calling you?”

“David killed you, hell I even went to your funeral. Besides there is no way you just resurrected yourself after three years, science guys don’t resurrect.”

Anne felt her palms go sweaty and breath quicken. This was not the start of a good day and Anne didn’t feel like it was going to get any better but the again since when did it ever get any better?

“Prometheus I need help”

“Okay actually that might be incorrect science guys do occasionally come back, but I don’t think parallel universes and cloning counts”

“Prometheus please” you ass.

“okay fine, where are you”

“my house obviously”

“how is that in any way obvious. Wait how on earth did you get to your house, we buried you next to you mum in city cemetery”

“how… considerate? Now get over here and bring some spare cloths, Im freezing.”