“Seriously, he’s an Augment.” Eric’s got that Hunter Pence look in his eyes.
“Bullshit.” I rack my brain trying to remember all the faces we flipped through on his Conspirapedia database thing. Even the fact that I’m bothering to do that makes me wonder how sane I am. “He’s not an Augment.”
“No, he is, really.”
“Fine.” Fighting an eyeroll is taking monumental effort. “What powers has he manifested?”
“A 1.02 ERA in 55 2/3 innings? And you’ve seen his pitch. I mean how do you do even sling heat flopping your arm around like that. Maybe he’s got an elasticity power…”
“Elasticity? What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, like his skin and bones stretch or something.”
“That has to be the dumbest power I’ve ever heard of. Nobody has that power.”
“Well, they could…”
“And what? Use it to pick further up their nose? Maybe creep on girls from the other end of a subway car? What happens when they take Viagra? They like turn to concrete? C’mon dude, that’s dumb.”
Eric looks down in defeat. “Okay, maybe you’re right.” But pretty soon his mouth drops open and he’s back at it. “Clairvoyance. He knows what the batter is anticipating, how they’ll swing and so he always makes the best call. Always one step ahead. And we’d never be able to verify because he’d be one step ahead of everyone else.”
“And he uses this to sling horsehide and not negotiate world peace?” I say, not convinced I wouldn’t do the same thing. “Stop, man. He’s a badass. Anyone can be a badass, they don’t have to be a superhero.”
Eric frowns and doesn’t resist an eyeroll. “When did you become a motivational speaker?”
“Shut up and get me another Dew. Let’s celebrate. No more Augment talk, I get enough of that crap from Dad. How about we hack Amazon and extend that sale of ours? You did post the documents right?”
“Oh yeah, like EVERYWHERE. A buck a click. We might be able to buy a new cooling fan for Babe soon.” Eric tosses a fresh can of radioactive caffeine my way. I snag it, doing a better job than freaking Blanco and Perez and pop the lid. Leaning back in the throne, I bask in the permanent odor of Parmesan baked into the cracked leather and take a swig.
With the rush of sugar comes a flood of memories starting with the Icehole. Next, a retirement home for cast-off Augments. Even the Beetle’s lair – the freaking Black Beetle. My arm convulses sympathetically and I almost spill my drink. How did I even survive? Why? Cheers erupt on the TV again and I let them override the rest before my thoughts drift to those that didn’t. I need a break. A clear win in my column. I’ll take this one.
We’ll extend the sale. For the Giants. Giants among Augments. Normal people giving everything to something extraordinary. That’s my kind of win.
http://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Son-Russ-Linton-ebook/dp/B00KZ87P2S/
Crimson Son: On sale ONE MORE DAY due to “hacking” and a Giant’s win…
Categories: Author News
RUSS LINTON 
Bumgarner won a new truck for being series MVP, and Joe Buck innediately volunteered to wash it every Sunday.