Disclaimer: This is intended for a mature audience over 18. All characters in this book are over 18. This book is the first in a series of an exciting new take on super heroes, super villains, paranormal romance and science fiction adventure. If you like the "Wildcards" series or "The Watchmen" you will enjoy this thought provoking and humorous take on Superheroes and Villains. The main character is the Crisis, a man driven to become a super villain after being framed for crashing the world's economy. With the power to "hip toss a BMW" he and his best friend whose also a high priced assassin, a stripper who tries to kill him and an FBI agent he's in love with all attempt to navigate a complicated future.where world domination is fought out between superheroes, super villains, and multinational corporations. Excerpt from Chapter 2: Anyway, I was in N'awlin's, minding my own business, just enjoying the festivities. So I was just about to shoot the grand Marshall of the parade (hey you enjoy festivities your way, I'll enjoy it mine) when I felt manacles encircle my wrists, I say felt because I couldn't see them. I suspected they were psychic in origin. I hate psykers. My hands were bound and I couldn't move or turn them. So I pivoted my body around instead and shot the shooter point blank with both barrels of Dr. Impossible's Ultra blasters (patent pending) at full power. The lean scaled figure dropped like a stone. It was pretty awesome. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the slugger, a plated figure with an improbably rhino's horn jutting from his forehead charged towards me. This time I threw my body to the side and the slugger charged through the bonds of mental energy connecting my wrists to the psyker. It created a backlash and I felt my hands go free even as an unpleasant frisson of released energy washed through me. I felt as if a picnic's worth of ants was crawling over every inch of my skin simultaneously. Great, a wave of formication and no pixies in sight. I really hate psykers. With hands finally free I grabbed the hulking horned figure who was just probably experience the same unpleasant sensations I had, by one extended arm and threw him over my hip for about 50 feet (it helps having a ninja for a friend, especially when you're strong enough to lift a Volkswagen). I knew I wasn't strong enough to hurt him by trading punches, so I didn't bother. I just needed to space and time and a unifying theory for both as Hawkins used to say. I spotted the psyker by looking for someone holding their head and generally feeling the condensed effects of a weeks' worth of hangover. Unfortunately that wasn't unusual for most of the crowd. But one was wearing the black shaded and dark suit of an FBI. I raised my gun to shoot him (the blasters would be drained for a while) when I realized it wasn't a him at all, the sunglasses slipped as she leaned forward to puke and I realized she was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen vomit in the street. Sometimes love hits you like that. I couldn't make myself shoot her.
