The Supervillain and Me (Morriston Superheroes #1)

Bonus Scene! Iron Phantom's POV

Hey there, friends!

It's time for more bonus content! The following scenes are from chapters 3 & 4 of The Supervillain and Me, but this time they're told from Iron Phantom's point of view. As long as you've already read the first few chapters of Supervillain, then you won't find any spoilers. :)

And just a reminder that The Supervillain and Me is now available in paperback!!!! The best part about the paperback is that is has some super awesome extras attached, including a Q&A, a list of Red Comet's Superhero Essentials, and also a never-before-read bonus scene that you won't be able to find anywhere else! So if you like that sort of awesomeness, visit the links in my profile to get a copy!

And now for the fun stuff...

Enjoy your trip inside the mind of everyone's favorite supervillain/vigilante/sweet cinnamon roll, Iron Phantom.

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IRON PHANTOM

My super suit was chafing me in some seriously strange places.

They don't tell you that when you buy it. The chafing, I mean. They don't tell you much of anything, really. I guess they wouldn't. I ordered the suit online, so there wasn't exactly human contact involved. Secret identities need to stay secret, and people tend to ask questions if they see a teenage kid shelling out his entire allowance to play vigilante. (Except, of course, during the mishap I had last week when I took the suit to the local dry cleaners. The only question the manger there kept asking me was why I wanted him to launder my footie pajamas, which was both a relief and an embarrassment.)

Though to protect myself, I didn't tell anyone the truth of what I was up to, and in return, no one told me about the chafing. It wasn't a fair trade, but in this line of work we didn't exactly have a form handy to lodge a complaint about this kind of stuff.

But damn, was it uncomfortable.

And humiliating. Like, how is it possible for spandex to rub right in the crevice between your—?

You know what, never mind. I pushed the horrific image away as I crept into the mayor's office. The room was deserted except for a hulking wooden desk, grand enough to make the US president's desk look like a toddler's plastic playset. Claw feet dug into the carpet, ornate floral carvings snaked their way up and down the sides, and dozens of polished handles gleamed in the lamplight. I knew it would fetch a pretty penny on the internet. A pompous statue of a bald eagle taking flight sat on top, keeping watch over a holiday photograph of Mayor Hamilton's kids. The girl was smiling wide at the camera, ringlets of blonde hair framing rosy cheeks. The boy was giving the girl bunny ears. Classy.

I ran my fingers over the desk's edge. It looked like it might have been made from ash. I hoped it had been made from ash. Because I needed something that would burn hot and long. No exceptions.

City hall was up to something, and if I had a chance in hell of figuring out what that something was, then I needed the world's greatest distraction.

This is such a horrible idea.

For the record, I never intended to become a criminal. But once you put on that suit and that mask it does something strange to your inhibitions—or lack thereof. The suit made me feel invincible. But, you know, still stupid.

I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. The chant rang through my head while I struck the match and dropped it on the desk, the flame obscuring the girl's frozen smile. Her rosy cheeks. The laughter in the boy's eyes. Then my gaze swung to the office wall, to a photo of Mayor Hamilton holding the key to Morriston in his grubby hands. I didn't know if he was involved in this madness or not, but with the microchip burning a hole in my pocket I found that I didn't care.