Read Online Love for the Cold-Blooded by Alex Gabriel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alex Gabriel
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loser’s ass, you are like 1000x cooler than him. I’ll come over and loom over him a little if you want, just say the word. (I loom like a pro, FYI.)
Then, Pat legged it in the opposite direction of City Hall. He had a date with Maurat and her Principles of Urban Architecture , which was at this very moment waiting for him at the book store, glossy and full of promise.
He might have been a little lost in anticipation, possibly even wearing a silly grin. He definitely wasn’t paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been, particularly since a challenger attack was in progress. But nothing was ever perfect in this world, which in this particular instance meant that one moment, Pat was peacefully dreaming of streets and parks and municipal planning — and the next, a wide swathe of cobblestones to his left was blasted several meters into the air amid a choking cloud of dust, and a pair of high-gloss black boots slammed down right in front of him.
“Tremble, mortals!” boomed Doctor Destiny. Her cape billowed and snapped impressively, almost hitting Pat in the face. He staggered back a few steps and fell on his ass in the middle of the cloud of dust, tripped up by the cobblestones, which had settled back down in a road hazard kind of way.
Meanwhile, Doctor Destiny swept out an arm, a blinding arc of energy sizzling from her fingertips to slam into the really ugly statue of some old dude that stood off to the far side of the square. “Tremble as you face your ultimate Destiny! Bow down before your mistress, for I come to rule over you!”
The statue of the old dude bowed down obediently by crumbling into rubble and collapsing into a heap. Pat vaguely felt like he should have known who he had been. On the other hand, not like it mattered anymore.
Unlike the statue, a bunch of people in the vicinity entirely failed to bow down. Instead, they screamed and scattered, flinging their shopping about randomly. The obligatory apple cart immediately overturned to add to the chaos.
For an instant, Doctor Destiny’s form was outlined in crackling electricity, emphasizing her dramatic pose. She’d flung her head back photogenically, long hair whipping wildly about her masked face, and cut a super imposing figure. One of her hands was outstretched as though reaching for something, gloved fingers bent into claws; her body was twisted lithely in that boneless athletic way that ensured a good picture from nearly every angle. Her cape flared out behind her, so intensely black that it seemed like a slice of starless night cutting into the autumn afternoon. The gleaming silver infinity symbol on her chest was the sole splash of color relieving the light-eating black of her costume.
Doctor Destiny, what the fuck? She’d never even crossed Pat’s mind. The Doc was serious business, a mad scientist and scheming mastermind all rolled up into one. She clocked in at the upper end of the challenger spectrum, right up there with people like Cassiopeia. What was she doing on a random downtown rampage? That kind of thing was more the wavelength of small fry like The Shark (though not this far out of water), or screechy Bitterfly with her eternal campaign to be acknowledged as the most-wronged — or alternately the most annoying — person in the history of ever.
Pat scrambled to his feet and realized, with a thrill of cold, that he’d lost his shopping bag. He’d stayed up all afternoon refreshing the infoweb page to get on the waiting list for Mad Bad and Dangerous to Ho. He’d paid way more for it than he should have. No way, he was not going to lose his new album because of a stupid challenger attack!
It took him a minute because the dust hadn’t settled yet and his eyes were tearing, but then he spotted his bag on the ground, pretty much exactly at the gleaming polished heels of Doctor Destiny’s boots. Not ideal, but if he was quick about it he could just grab it and go, leaving the challenger to her
Then, Pat legged it in the opposite direction of City Hall. He had a date with Maurat and her Principles of Urban Architecture , which was at this very moment waiting for him at the book store, glossy and full of promise.
He might have been a little lost in anticipation, possibly even wearing a silly grin. He definitely wasn’t paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been, particularly since a challenger attack was in progress. But nothing was ever perfect in this world, which in this particular instance meant that one moment, Pat was peacefully dreaming of streets and parks and municipal planning — and the next, a wide swathe of cobblestones to his left was blasted several meters into the air amid a choking cloud of dust, and a pair of high-gloss black boots slammed down right in front of him.
“Tremble, mortals!” boomed Doctor Destiny. Her cape billowed and snapped impressively, almost hitting Pat in the face. He staggered back a few steps and fell on his ass in the middle of the cloud of dust, tripped up by the cobblestones, which had settled back down in a road hazard kind of way.
Meanwhile, Doctor Destiny swept out an arm, a blinding arc of energy sizzling from her fingertips to slam into the really ugly statue of some old dude that stood off to the far side of the square. “Tremble as you face your ultimate Destiny! Bow down before your mistress, for I come to rule over you!”
The statue of the old dude bowed down obediently by crumbling into rubble and collapsing into a heap. Pat vaguely felt like he should have known who he had been. On the other hand, not like it mattered anymore.
Unlike the statue, a bunch of people in the vicinity entirely failed to bow down. Instead, they screamed and scattered, flinging their shopping about randomly. The obligatory apple cart immediately overturned to add to the chaos.
For an instant, Doctor Destiny’s form was outlined in crackling electricity, emphasizing her dramatic pose. She’d flung her head back photogenically, long hair whipping wildly about her masked face, and cut a super imposing figure. One of her hands was outstretched as though reaching for something, gloved fingers bent into claws; her body was twisted lithely in that boneless athletic way that ensured a good picture from nearly every angle. Her cape flared out behind her, so intensely black that it seemed like a slice of starless night cutting into the autumn afternoon. The gleaming silver infinity symbol on her chest was the sole splash of color relieving the light-eating black of her costume.
Doctor Destiny, what the fuck? She’d never even crossed Pat’s mind. The Doc was serious business, a mad scientist and scheming mastermind all rolled up into one. She clocked in at the upper end of the challenger spectrum, right up there with people like Cassiopeia. What was she doing on a random downtown rampage? That kind of thing was more the wavelength of small fry like The Shark (though not this far out of water), or screechy Bitterfly with her eternal campaign to be acknowledged as the most-wronged — or alternately the most annoying — person in the history of ever.
Pat scrambled to his feet and realized, with a thrill of cold, that he’d lost his shopping bag. He’d stayed up all afternoon refreshing the infoweb page to get on the waiting list for Mad Bad and Dangerous to Ho. He’d paid way more for it than he should have. No way, he was not going to lose his new album because of a stupid challenger attack!
It took him a minute because the dust hadn’t settled yet and his eyes were tearing, but then he spotted his bag on the ground, pretty much exactly at the gleaming polished heels of Doctor Destiny’s boots. Not ideal, but if he was quick about it he could just grab it and go, leaving the challenger to her
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