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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...
Livingstein Day Hospital was full of patients affected by the day before. Most had scrapes, others had some mental trauma the doctors kept a close eye on. Only one was in critical condition.
Char was worried about the last patient.
She was out of her suit. Instead, she wore skin-tight jeans and a loose BTS T-shirt. Her short, stylish boots were replaced with regular Vans. The long sleek ponytail turned into a tangled mess of hair that screamed, "I tossed and turned all night and didn't have access to the showers". Her hands, wearing the same pair of fingerless gloves, wrung together.
Out of her whole appearance, her enemy had seen the gloves before and would realize immediately it was Char. Sure, Masko could have also recognized her gorgeous sea-foam green eyes or a permanent quirk of her lips. The villain doubted it; the last two times, the hero was less than pleased to see her. And she would definitely be unhappy to see Char standing by the hospital bed.
But right now, she wasn't Char. She was Gillian Seaton, the girl with the ability to shoot fire out of her hands. The girl working on her Masters at Livingstein College. The girl who found Masko and called the ambulance. And she was here as a concerned... friend.
Once visiting hours began, Gillian zoomed to the reception desk. The man she talked to an hour ago was still here, and he was already sick of her and the endless questions she had. His coffee cup was freshly refilled.
"Can I go see her now? How is she doing? Is she okay with visitors?" The questions flew out of her mouth. She was low on patience and coffee, and the pyro wasn't sure how much longer she could wait.
"I already told you, miss, she's not cleared for visitors. Besides, it's not visiting time yet."
Gillian pointed at the clock, which said it was 12:05. She then pointed at the poster below the clock, which said all visiting hours started at noon. "Like I said, I need to see--"
He interrupted her shamelessly. "You need to stop bothering me and let me do my job." He sipped his coffee slowly, and loudly. Annoyingly loud. Between sips, he advised the pyro, "This is your cue to go away."
Not in the mood to deal with his power play, Gillian picked up a pencil holder nearby. The receptionist watched as her hand turned red-hot, melting the plastics and melding them together as her fist squeezed tighter. Once all the pens became useless, she dropped the hot mess on the counter. He showed the slightest unease, recognizing one of Livingstein's supers and realizing he was pissing off the wrong person.
"This is your cue to do your job," she said sweetly. "I stopped giving serious injuries a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I won't inflict a couple more if you keep up with this shit." She wiped the melted plastic remains from her hand.
The receptionist let go of his pettiness long enough to look up the records of Masko. Or whatever her name was. It occurred to Gillian that she never got her enemy's real name. Was she being a good villain or a bad villain for not bothering to know a small thing about the hero? Either way, she was inconsiderate.
"Miss Frankie Fokin seems to be in better condition than last night," he said, skimming through the file. "She should be resting, but she made several complaints of 'being bored'. So, she's granted a few minutes of visiting time." He peered at Gillian over his glasses. "And I assume you're a, uh, friend of hers?"
She nodded without hesitation. They both knew she wasn't, but the pyro was happy he was playing along.
After a couple of clicks on the keyboard, he gave her the room number Masko was staying in. Gillian ran down the hall and searched for the room.
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