The Supervillain and Me (Morriston Superheroes #1)

Bonus Scene! Sarah's Red Comet Fan Fiction

Hey friends!

As promised, I will be reposting some of my old Men in Tights bonus chapters every week until the paperback release of The Supervillain and Me on July 9th! The paperback will have some awesome extras attached, including a never-before-read bonus chapter, so if you're interested in pre-ordering it, visit the links on my profile!

Now I apologize in advance, but it's time for some fan fiction. Sarah's fan fiction. Although it has been mentioned that she writes overly sexual stories about Red Comet, this story will be toned down a bit, mainly because I don't enjoy writing overly sexual scenes and I can't take them seriously. Despite that, it will still include sexual innuendos, odd Red Comet humor, and a massive helping of cringe-worthy cheesiness. Enjoy!

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Red Comet Stole My Undies and He Won't Give Them Back! Say Whaaa?

I was screaming so loudly I could feel my throat bleeding.

But I didn't care. Having functioning vocal cords didn't matter at a time like this, not when I had a ticket for the hottest event in town. It was the event to end all events, the coup de grâce that could either shoot my entire existence into the stratosphere or bring it crashing down around me.

I was ten steps away from meeting the one, the only... Red Comet.

Allow me to set the scene:

Morriston Mall. Saturday afternoon. A thousand people were crammed into the center of the first floor, between the Starbucks and a black velvet curtain hanging behind a water fountain filled with corroded pennies. The few, the proud, the (not so proud) mall security guards on Segways were trying to hold the crowd at bay, but few people could successfully contain a hormonal horde of teenagers decked out in Red Comet paraphernalia. There's something about wearing a T-shirt with a superhero's face on it that seriously turns people on. Including me.

Oh, right. Me. I'm Sarah. Red Comet's biggest fan. My hair is as red as his suit, and I'm not wearing a superhero T-shirt today for one reason and one reason only: One cannot simply exit the Fan Zone (it's like the 'friend zone,' only a million times worse because, unlike the friend zone, your existence is never truly acknowledged) by acting like a fan. Hence the sundress. And the heels, which were squishing my toes and turning them purple. But if I wanted to become Red Comet's new girlfriend and discover the man behind the mask, I needed to play the part.

"Step back, kids! Step back!" A guard ushered us into a tight single file line. The boy standing behind me tried to cut, but I threw out an elbow to keep him back. A younger girl in front of me with braided pigtails and a bright red tutu was starting to tear up a bit. I ignored her because crying people often made me cry, and I would not have runny mascara when I was ten steps away from meeting the light of my life. Although... if I did, maybe he would dry my tears and hold me against his rock hard abs...

Stop, Sarah, I scolded myself. Stick to the plan. Give Red Comet your number first, sob like a baby later.

My fingers curled around the red index card clutched in my hand. I'd written my cell number on it... and then tossed that card out and wrote my number again. And again. It took me fifteen tries to get it right. If the numbers were too messy, he'd think I didn't care. If they were too neat, he'd think I cared too much. Then I debated the pros and cons of including my picture. No picture and he might forget, but if I gave him my junior year yearbook picture, would he think that was lame?

Yes, definitely lame. Eventually, I decided on just writing down my Twitter handle. That was cool in a hipster, I-Care-But-I-Don't-Want-to-Show-You-How-Much-I-Care kind of way, right?