Throughout the world, Power Uppers are the hottest drug on the market. A single pill allows any Normie to obtain the power of a Super. The drawback? They're also highly addicting and the cause of most financial ruin.
Tayla wants nothing to do with s...
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Tayla lay in the comfortable bed, staring at the rainbow painted above. Soft ticks of a clock drifted through the silence and mixed with the snores of Max downstairs. Dim light filtered through a skylight painted over with black paint that had started to chip away. Occasional whispers between Remy and Kimber were the only other sounds in the otherwise still warehouse apartment. She hadn't meant to fall asleep in the wonderful silk robe. Her plan was to let Max and Kimber both fall asleep before finding her clothes and sneaking away in the dark. Not that she knew where to go from there. News of her mother's arrest had to have reached home, calling for someone to come pick her up didn't seem like a viable option even if she could get to a phone. Tayla didn't know who to trust.
Super powers surrounded her downstairs. They weren't drug addicts looking for a new score, they weren't civil servants hoping to gain an advantage, they were true born Supers. Max proved he could control her with a wiggle of his finger. It was the first time she truly felt vulnerable to Supers. How many more were like him? Supers were assholes. All of them. Max convinced her of that more than anything did.
She sighed and rolled on her side. Her clothes sat in a folded pile atop a bright pink dresser with bronze flower handles, the contents of her pockets lay to the side, her backpack waited next to them. The idea of staying in bed all day crossed her mind. A party of one pity party seemed ideal. In twenty-four hours she'd lost her mom, saw her mom called a fugitive on worldwide television, became stranded in old downtown, and accosted by a pair of electrical charged Supers. If that wasn't a means for staying in bed and hiding, she didn't know what was.
Instead, she rolled out from under the covers and changed into her clothes. She wasn't going to let her fear create weakness, finding Corin was her priority and nothing else mattered.
Tayla leaned over the rail of the loft, looking down on the warehouse. Light filtered in through holes in the curtains, speckling the concrete ground in shadows. Max lay on his stomach on the couch, a thin blanket covered his hips. Scars stretched along his back in multiple lightning bolts. She glared at him. Even asleep, with the obvious signs of torture he'd endured, he looked like every bit the jerk she thought he was.
"Come on down if you're hungry," Remy said, looking up from under the loft over hang. She held up a plate, grinning. "We have pancakes! Who doesn't love pancakes?"
Any hope of sneaking out vanished with the gaze of those multicolored eyes. Tayla sighed and pushed away from the railing.
"Are you feeling better?" Tayla asked as she sat beside Remy.
"Much. Normally I only need an hour to recover, but your injuries packed a punch." She stroked the newly formed tattoo on her arm.
"You have a lot of tattoos." Tayla sat on a stool beside Remy. She examined each tattoo on her left arm.
There was the lightning bolt formed after she took Tayla's injuries away. A wilting tree the lightning wrapped around sat under a set of stars and shadowed a series of footprints. There were more, but they were far too muddled and mixed with other tattoos to be distinguishable. Remy dragged a thumb down her arm. The tattoos smeared like mixing paint before reforming into their shapes.
