"...What do you mean, your webs got 'stuck on'? Isn't sticking what they do?"
"Yeah, Mike, but that's not what I mean! I mean I can't stop spooling it out, the Wizard hit me with some kind of amplifier dart and now I just can't stop projecting more and more web, and it's getting harder to control - look, I just need you to get me some sedative or something, all right? Knock me out and I SHOULD be able to stop before I cocoon the Chrysler building..."
Most of the time, being a superhero was making the hard choices. Run in to help when everyone else was screaming and running away. Put yourself between the bullet and the bystander. Keep your powers secret, even when the rent was overdue and you couldn't explain to your boss why you were late all the time.
But sometimes, it was easy.
The little girl sat on a park bench - not crying, she was at that age where some kids would rather die than be thought a baby, but sniffling a little.
It was a nice morning, up until the bank exploded. Cars swerved to stop with more than a few fender benders as they were showered with debris. A cackling, skinny shape in rags, tatters, and an astonishing number of pouches and satchels skipped from the wreckage, tossing smoke bombs and flashbangs every which way, pursued by a desperately dodging shape in form-fitting purple and black.
Just another morning in Manhattan. #psyder #drabble #unedited
The Psyder's got a villain (frenemy?) who's cybernetically enhanced, with claws, fangs, and a long, stinging tail that can throw blasts of psionic static at range.
Scorpion? Nah. Stinger? Heck no. Call her...La Mantícora.
"If this is your idea of a Valentine's date, arañita, you need to up your game!"
"It's NOT a date!" The Psyder leapt from a car to a bare flagpole, swinging around it to build up momentum for a flying kick to the Scorpion's jaw. It connected, but she rolled with the blow. Unyielding armor took the rest of the force, and it left the hero's foot and shin tingling with the impact.
#psyder