Direct sequel to Binding but this makes sense as a standalone.
I knew I was doing the right thing.
I just wish it didn’t have to hurt so much.
It was strange, hidden in the heavy rain, body wound tight like a cat about to pounce, watching the mobsters and gangsters move across the oil platform. It was my first time I would be doing anything like this, yet my mind couldn’t escape the fact that I had hurt someone.
The Suit wasn’t made for me; it was made for the world. We, as a team, wanted to save the world, so we designed a suit that could protect anyone no matter the cost.
I stole it because he scared me. There was this look in Hector’s eyes that didn’t seem right. This greed, this insatiable thirst for something he was too scared to say out loud, and of course I understood that. I wanted things for the world too.
Continue reading “Baby”
“Hey uh, you okay?”
Eyelids finally fluttered open, a sharp pain shooting up her clamped jaw, dried blood chipping away with every breath, like bits of glass scattering against skin.
She failed yet again. How many more times would she wake up to that exciting revelation?
Continue reading “The Best at What She Does”
A small, dainty hand holding onto a hand laden in armor. Just as close as she would allow.
Hands made for destruction, for causing hurt to people who were out of control. Delivering pain and judgment, hands that came home battered and bruised. Wrapped up hands lying flat on a mattress, fingers clenched to the sheets.
Hands that did not touch.
Continue reading “Accept Me”
Straight ahead of her: A highly skilled mercenary with a kill count in the triple digits.
Above her: A nuclear missile about to annihilate many innocent lives.
All around her: A team of vigilantes fighting off against hordes of goons atop an oil platform.
Way, way above her: Victor Cauchmeer, a mad scientist bent on wreaking the most havoc he could wreak. His mission was to be on the cover of Villain’s Monthly in a flattering way at least twice.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Lydia Irving, famed mercenary, smirked, her body finally loosening after a drawn out brawl. “The bomb is going to nail your little city whether you beat me or not.”
Make that a kill count in the septuple digits.
Continue reading “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Defuse the Bomb”
Three months of unemployment doesn’t come cheap.
You lose everything that you are. Any life in you is drained away, lost to circumstance. Unwillingly laying in a bed all day, staring at your ceiling, waiting for a phone call that will never come.
Gone without a trace.
Continue reading “Your Greatest Strengths”
Ashes fell from above. Armageddon had its way and then moved on just as quickly to turn something else into ruins.
Continue reading “Binding”
“So there I was, on my knees, eyes shut, gun to my forehead, angels already sending me on my way.”
Light blasted his body, silhouetting him from behind, dust hanging in the air. Each gesture sent the rays of light dancing behind him.
Continue reading “Love Among Thieves”
Best read on desk top.
A swarm of angry bees. Whirling like a hurricane. Buzzing, impossible to hear above the roar.
They don’t understand. They weren’t there. They didn’t see him.
Continue reading “Sapphire into Emerald”
“Aw criminy, guys! It’s the Nightmare! Amscray!”
She had only just landed on the girder and they were already terrified of her. Cape still wavering from her landing, Nightmare looked up at the gallery of goons spread out before her. Salvatore Cagan’s gang had just robbed a laboratory of some valuable and possibly destructive tech. their chase with the police had lead them into a construction zone.
Cagan’s men were organized, making death defying leaps with no fear in their blood. They leapt from girder to girder, swinging back and forth as their weight rocked the chains suspending the steel bars in the air. Eventually, their trail had gone cold.
But not for the Nightmare.
Continue reading “The Amscray Gang”
Tw: Suicide, self-harm
She had failed him and now he was gone.
Katrina lied on the floor, cape crumpled against the furniture, hand held out in front of her, clutching onto an invisible object. Shaking. Sweat dripping from her forehead. Eyes unfocused. Mouth agape.
She grabbed onto her mask, peeling it off of her face. It stuck to her for a moment, the blood having dried onto it.
Continue reading “Bleeding”