Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share a first fight from one of their books.
Erica Hayes
is here for ...
First Fight Friday
with a scene from
Scorched
Scorched is about superheroes. Yay!
As you can imagine, there are a lot of cool fight scenes –
but heroes are supposed to fight the villains, right?
Not each other…
Verity, my heroine, is having trouble controlling her telekinetic superpowers. Which is fair enough, considering that a few weeks back, her archenemy had her thrown in an asylum and tortured… but it means her power is unreliable.
Not a good thing when you're supposed to be saving innocent lives.
So here's the scene where my crime-fighting heroine, Verity,
and her dark-and-mysterious-with-a-heart-of-gold sidekick, Glimmer, have their first real argument.
They've just had a climactic fight with a greasy villain called Iceclaw, who has this nefarious scheme involving a truckload of nerve gas (yeah, nice guy) – and Verity screwed up.
She's waiting for Glimmer to call her out…
but he's just not that kind of guy.
Hope you enjoy!
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Twenty minutes later, I paced before Glimmer's console, yanking my ragged braid over my shoulder. My skin itched like ant bites. My new shiny costume felt too tight, and inside it I sweated, feverish. I tugged my mask off and tossed it aside. It didn't help.
My stomach thrashed like a pit of cobras, bad-tempered and ready to strike. I wanted to kick something, scream, shudder the ceiling loose with my rage. Sweep all those fancy screens to the floor and watch them shatter.
I wanted to shatter him.
Because Glimmer didn't shout, or hit me, or demand to know what the f*** I thought I was doing. He hadn't unbuckled his shiny black suit, or washed his skunky head under the tap to fight the heat. He didn't even look like he was sweating.
He just sat there, skewering me with that reproachful gaze. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm great," I said shortly. "Why do you ask?"
A light shrug. "Just wondering—"
"Why don't you ever say what you really mean?" I wrenched my coat off and tossed it on the desk. Underneath I wore a tank top, and my bare arms stung with sweat. It didn't cool me down. "Huh? Stop hiding behind that mask and tell the g**damn truth for once. Because guess what? I don't believe your nice-guy act for one second."
"Verity—"
"Go on. Show me that bad-boy anger." I leaned over, getting right in his face. "You know it's in there, Glimmer. You know you want to let it loose. Hit me. Curse at me. Say, 'What the f*** happened, Verity, you dumb bitch, are you trying to get us killed?'"
He shoved me away, spinning his chair so he could get up, and rounded on me, that smoldering spark igniting a magnesium flashburn. "Okay. Fine. What the f*** happened, Verity? Are you trying to get us killed? Jesus. Do the words 'incendiary nerve agent' mean nothing to you?"
Ha. Got a rise out of him. I should've been triumphant. But I just felt nauseated, fevered, like I had the flu. "What else was I supposed to do?" I demanded. "He had it in his hand. What do you want, that I should just let him go?"
"I want you to use some finesse." He fisted his hair, exasperated. "I want you to think before you hit things. But no, you were too determined to hurt him—"
"Like you were a big f***ing help," I interrupted. "If you weren't so damn keen on keeping Weasel alive, you could have helped me."
"What, did you want me to shoot him?"
"Yes, I f***ing well wanted you to shoot him!" My nerves hacked ragged, but I was too angry to stop. "What were you saving him for? He's a Gallery scumbag. An accessory to murder. A freak who thinks a truckload of Pyrotox bombs is just a lovely idea. Yeah, he's a real nice guy, Glimmer. Totally worth saving a bullet for."
"This is not about saving bullets. This is about the difference between them and us."
"Oh, yeah?" I jumped closer, furious. "And what's that? Competence? Intelligence? They've got a plan and we don't?"
"No," he retorted, and the air around him shimmered with his frustration. "It's that we're supposed to give a damn who we hurt. And I don't think you do, Verity." He let out a deep breath, calming. "I think you would've let Iceclaw crush that canister and kill us all, not to mention half the damn neighborhood. So long as it meant he'd go down, too. Just to get your revenge."
"Right," I said sarcastically. "Even though it was Razorfire who f***ed me over, not Iceclaw. You know so much about me, do you? Then tell me. Revenge for what?"
Glimmer hesitated, and for a moment I really thought he'd back down.
"For making you afraid that you're one of them," he said softly.
Copyright © Erica Hayes
My stomach thrashed like a pit of cobras, bad-tempered and ready to strike. I wanted to kick something, scream, shudder the ceiling loose with my rage. Sweep all those fancy screens to the floor and watch them shatter.
I wanted to shatter him.
Because Glimmer didn't shout, or hit me, or demand to know what the f*** I thought I was doing. He hadn't unbuckled his shiny black suit, or washed his skunky head under the tap to fight the heat. He didn't even look like he was sweating.
He just sat there, skewering me with that reproachful gaze. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm great," I said shortly. "Why do you ask?"
A light shrug. "Just wondering—"
"Why don't you ever say what you really mean?" I wrenched my coat off and tossed it on the desk. Underneath I wore a tank top, and my bare arms stung with sweat. It didn't cool me down. "Huh? Stop hiding behind that mask and tell the g**damn truth for once. Because guess what? I don't believe your nice-guy act for one second."
"Verity—"
"Go on. Show me that bad-boy anger." I leaned over, getting right in his face. "You know it's in there, Glimmer. You know you want to let it loose. Hit me. Curse at me. Say, 'What the f*** happened, Verity, you dumb bitch, are you trying to get us killed?'"
He shoved me away, spinning his chair so he could get up, and rounded on me, that smoldering spark igniting a magnesium flashburn. "Okay. Fine. What the f*** happened, Verity? Are you trying to get us killed? Jesus. Do the words 'incendiary nerve agent' mean nothing to you?"
Ha. Got a rise out of him. I should've been triumphant. But I just felt nauseated, fevered, like I had the flu. "What else was I supposed to do?" I demanded. "He had it in his hand. What do you want, that I should just let him go?"
"I want you to use some finesse." He fisted his hair, exasperated. "I want you to think before you hit things. But no, you were too determined to hurt him—"
"Like you were a big f***ing help," I interrupted. "If you weren't so damn keen on keeping Weasel alive, you could have helped me."
"What, did you want me to shoot him?"
"Yes, I f***ing well wanted you to shoot him!" My nerves hacked ragged, but I was too angry to stop. "What were you saving him for? He's a Gallery scumbag. An accessory to murder. A freak who thinks a truckload of Pyrotox bombs is just a lovely idea. Yeah, he's a real nice guy, Glimmer. Totally worth saving a bullet for."
"This is not about saving bullets. This is about the difference between them and us."
"Oh, yeah?" I jumped closer, furious. "And what's that? Competence? Intelligence? They've got a plan and we don't?"
"No," he retorted, and the air around him shimmered with his frustration. "It's that we're supposed to give a damn who we hurt. And I don't think you do, Verity." He let out a deep breath, calming. "I think you would've let Iceclaw crush that canister and kill us all, not to mention half the damn neighborhood. So long as it meant he'd go down, too. Just to get your revenge."
"Right," I said sarcastically. "Even though it was Razorfire who f***ed me over, not Iceclaw. You know so much about me, do you? Then tell me. Revenge for what?"
Glimmer hesitated, and for a moment I really thought he'd back down.
"For making you afraid that you're one of them," he said softly.
Copyright © Erica Hayes
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Scorched by Erica Hayes
Scorched by Erica Hayes
In a world where everyone wears a mask,
you can't trust anyone…
not even yourself.
Verity Fortune was once Sapphire City’s top crime-fighter, wielding her powers of telekinesis to battle the city’s most despicable villains.
Now, she’s consumed by a single burning desire: revenge. Against those who took away her mask, her memory, and nearly her life.
Having escaped from the asylum they left her to rot in, Verity dons her mask once again and becomes the Seeker, a vigilante warrior for truth.
But when she unwittingly uncovers an evil conspiracy deep within her own family, she’s suddenly on the run, alone and hunted by those she thought were on her side…
About Erica:
I’m an Aussie living in northern England, where at least the hospitality and the beer are warm. I write in coffee shops, feed my enormous cat, and watch TV or read until far too late at night. If it’s got serial killers, superheroes, monsters or spaceships – preferably all four – I’m there.
On the big issues: Captain Picard is cooler than Captain Kirk, Batman would beat up Superman, and vampires are hotter than werewolves any day. See, I knew we’d get along.
I’m an Aussie living in northern England, where at least the hospitality and the beer are warm. I write in coffee shops, feed my enormous cat, and watch TV or read until far too late at night. If it’s got serial killers, superheroes, monsters or spaceships – preferably all four – I’m there.
On the big issues: Captain Picard is cooler than Captain Kirk, Batman would beat up Superman, and vampires are hotter than werewolves any day. See, I knew we’d get along.
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