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First five chapters up as excerpt
Frankie and Gillian have had their super rivalry for way too long. Frankie, aka Masko the psychic hero, is tired of the same routine. Gillian, aka Char the pyro villain, enjoys the ongoing battles an...
The Devastator stared down the street he ruined. His blue, metal suit shone in the sunlight. His broad face was sweating already. Both his patchy beard and shaggy, brown hair were getting wet by the minute.
He clenched his fists. It'd been two minutes since he demanded their presence, and neither of those super punies had come out to face him yet. That was fine; he didn't mind playing hide-and-seek until one - or both - of them gave up.
His large hands unclenched, and they dangled by his side as he took slow steps down the road, the suit screeching as the metals clashed. The fingers brushed along objects he could throw to get their attention -- a bike, an overthrowing trash can, anything within reach. He restrained himself; The Devastator was going to need a lot of energy once he discovered them.
He stopped walking. He winced as the front of his mind prickled. Something nudged along his brain cells. The Devastator hadn't felt it in a long time, but he never forgot it. One of the super punies couldn't be...
But it was. One of them was a psychic.
Abandoning his restraint, he grabbed the nearest bench, ripping it off from the sidewalk it was screwed in. With a roar, the bench flew toward a tiny building with the sign "Estella's Espresso" nailed onto it.
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Char drained her coffee. Her tongue was burnt half-chug, so she didn't get to enjoy the rest of the coffee. It was her first time trying peppermint and chocolate at the same time, too.
She peered over to Masko, who didn't move a muscle the whole time she was mind-reading. She must be cramped by now. The hero better be ready to move soon. They couldn't hide in the small coffee shop forever.
"Hon, we don't have a lot of time," the villain commented, ignoring the psychic's glare. "Either you have something, or you don't."
Masko squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't have much," she admitted. "Threat's a guy. Power is super strength."
With a snort, Char said, "Yeah, think we got that after the first car, Sherlock."
"He's..." Masko paled. Her eyes widened under the mask. In a flash, she opened the door, grabbing Char by the wrist. "We need to go now!"
They scrambled out of the coffee house as they heard a deafening crash of metal hitting wood. Char whipped her head back for a split second. A bench crushed through where she and Masko stood before. Neither of them could have heard a flying piece of metal getting closer.
For once in her life, the pyro was grateful for her enemy's superpower.
"Pick up the pace!" Masko bellowed. "You're slowing us down!"
"Let go of my wrist then!" Char puffed. "I can't run as fast as you!"
They reached the end of the street and turned right, using the wall of a building as a shield. Masko got into the dark mind again. It was a risk she was taking; the threat somehow knew when she was fiddling around the grey matter. Hell, it was the reason she and Char almost got pummeled.
