Beta Reader(s) wanted

[frozenphenix]

I'm at the stage where I'm about to begin rewriting/editing a novel-length manuscript, but before I begin that I want an outside perspective on my writing.  I'd much appropriate feedback on plot, characters, and over all readability.

 

Synopsis: Bullying for most of his life, due to burn scars covering his face and upper body, Travis Tuner has grown to hate humanity. So when Oblivion, The Father of Demons, offers him the power to exact revenge on his tormentors in exchange for helping Oblivion escape the Nullverse, it's a no-brainer Travis would accept his offer. However, Travis hates depending on anyone for anything and rejects Oblivion's offer. Not willing to take no for an answer, Oblivion takes over Travis' body by force, inadvertently imbuing Travis with a portion of his powers and awakening a great power within him. Travis is able to beat back Oblivion, but evil never dies. Following this first encounter Travis develops a host of powers, which he must control if he wants to stay under the radar of the DMRC, a government agency tasked with capturing people with super natural abilities. To further complicate matters, Travis's abilities are triggered and amplified by emotions,resulting in explosive consequences  when he loses control of himself, such when he's around Joshua JJ Giovanni, a boy from his school.

 

Sample from chapter one:

 

Try as he might, the tears wouldn’t be denied their due this time.

As if in response to him the wind picked up and the April drizzle became a deluge.  Travis knew this would probably land him in the hospital, but he just don’t care. Head tilted forward, he removed the hood of his favorite gray hoodie. 

For the longest time he stood there as the storm bore witness to his tormented soul. 

Enough!

He tossed the black curls out of his eyes, and then clenched his fists so tight his stubby nail dug into his palms.

The tears stopped.

 He put the soaked hood back on, shivering as he did so, and then berated himself for his moment of weakness. He knew better than this. Crying solved nothing.  Emotions, especially love, are pointless and divert time and energy that could be better spent elsewhere.  

He ripped the pocketknife from his pants, rolled up his sleeve, and savaged the tan flesh of his arm again and again. The pale moonlight reflected off the edge of the blade as he slashed horizontally across his forearm. The metallic scent of blood filled the night air and the warmth of inflammation overtook his skin once more. Although a pale comparison, it reminded him of the abyss he found himself in the night he died.

 And at last he was at peace.

Travis knew he should have felt pain right then, and on some level he supposed he did. Yet only a dead emptiness filled him as he calculated how much gauze and disinfectant would be needed this time. The cold sensation of congealed blood intertwined with his searing skin intrigued him. And then he wondered:  should he end it all?

No!

He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that.

He’d come too far, been through too much to allow them to win. He was better than that, better than them.

 “Earth to Travis, are ya done with your period yet?”

Self-mutilation? Menses? Ha, good one.”

“Thank you, thank you very much. Now, if you’re done being all extra, can we go home?” 

“Fine,” Travis said and he trekked home.