Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 200: Basement 4

Chapter 200: Basement 4

Tila sprawled across the mattress like she owned it, one leg slung over the side, flipping through hospital channels with a bored scowl.

She landed on a cartoon, all bright colors and screeching voices, and cranked the volume to max.

Lila perched at the bed’s edge, legs curled beneath her, her black eyes fixed on the screen but distant, like she was seeing something else entirely.

They’re safe, Kael thought, the words grounding him.

"I’m heading to the basement," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Freya and Rhea are on their way. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. Got it?"

Lila nodded, her gaze flicking to him. "Understood."

"Yeah, yeah," Tila muttered, not looking up from the TV. "Whatever."

Kael stepped into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind him.

The hospital hallway stretched out, unnervingly quiet for a city medical hub.

The fluorescent lights flickered, their buzz louder than it should’ve been, each pulse grating against his nerves.

His footsteps echoed, sharp and solitary, as he made his way to the elevator.

He pressed the button for Basement Floor 4.

The doors slid open with a soft ding.

Two figures stood inside.

A man in a gray hoodie, hood up, hands stuffed in his pockets, and a nurse—or at least someone in scrubs, their face half-hidden by a surgical mask.

Neither glanced at him.

Kael stepped in, his gut tightening.

He took the corner, hands loose at his sides, eyes flicking to the floor indicator as it blinked downward.

His fingers twitched, a phantom itch crawling up his spine.

Paranoia, or the instincts that had kept him alive this long?

He couldn’t tell.

Patients? Visitors?

Or something else?

His powers stirred, a faint hum at his fingertips, but he held back.

Not yet.

Ding.

Basement 4.

The doors groaned open.

Kael glanced left—the other two stayed put, motionless.

He stepped into the dim basement, the air thick with the scent of oil and damp concrete.

Rows of vehicles sat silent, their shapes blurred by flickering lights that buzzed like dying insects.

Shadows pooled between columns and car bumpers, long and jagged. Somewhere, a pipe dripped, the sound a slow, deliberate heartbeat.

His footsteps echoed, too loud in the stillness.

Kael moved slower now, his eyes scanning the gloom, every nerve on edge.

Was it just paranoia again?

Crack.

A whip lashed through the air, a lightning strike of sound and force.

Kael dove on instinct, hitting the ground as a steel pillar behind him erupted, sparks and metal shards spraying like shrapnel.

"Fuck!" he hissed, rolling behind a nearby car, his heart slamming against his ribs like a war drum.

His fingers glowed faintly, empathetic charge humming, ready, but for what, he was useless in offense.

He peeked into the car’s side mirror, his breath shallow.

The woman stood there, stark against the dim light.

Black pants, a zipped-up jacket, nothing flashy—but her grin was a blade, sharp and gleeful.

Whiplash.

A-Class villain.

Torture enthusiast. Sadist.

Rumor said she could flay your skin without leaving a mark, and the way her eyes glinted, she was savoring the thought.

"Come out, sweetheart," she cooed, her voice echoing through the basement, syrupy with menace. "Don’t make it hurt more than it needs to be, I swear i enjoy it when you try."

Kael’s pulse roared in his ears.

He ducked lower, his back pressed against the car’s bumper, his mind racing.

Another step echoed—too close.

Then—crash.

Glass shattered beside him.

A hand lunged down, seizing his throat and slamming him against the car’s side with bone-rattling force.

Kael gasped, clawing at the grip, his vision swimming.

Use it—

His hand clamped onto the man’s wrist, empathetic resonance flaring like a live wire.

The man screamed, a raw, guttural sound, and dropped him, staggering back.

"FUCK! It burns—it burns!"

Kael didn’t hesitate.

He kicked out, catching the man’s knee, and scrambled backward on hands and feet, diving behind a concrete pillar just as—

Crack.

Whiplash’s whip sliced through the air, shredding the tire where he’d been seconds ago.

Rubber hissed, deflating.

"Get your shit together!" Whiplash snapped at her partner, her voice sharp with irritation. "He’s fast."

Kael crouched behind the pillar, wheezing, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his phone.

Too close.

Too fucking close.

He tapped out a message, fingers trembling.

SOS. Hospital. Basement 4. Ambush.

He forced a deep breath and touched his heart, making his empathetic calm to take hold.

His heartbeat slowed, his hands steadied, the panic ebbing just enough to think.

Footsteps echoed again, closer now.

Whiplash’s voice slithered through the dark.

"Oh Sweetheart~... you’re making this harder than it needs to be, I am already getting wet thinking what I am going to do to you." Every word dripped with confidence, like a predator toying with cornered prey. "It’s useless to hide. We know your dogshit powers, or, I swear to go easy on you if you can use it on your tongue as you make me come."

Kael’s thumb was slamming over SEND, his breath shallow.

A shadow shifted across the floor beside him.

Too late.

A hand snatched the phone from his grip, smooth and silent as a ghost.

Kael’s head snapped up, his body freezing.

She towered over him, elegant and impossibly still, like a statue carved from shadow.

Black slacks, black top, black gloves—nothing ostentatious, just understated menace.

Her hair was ink-dark, straight as a blade, framing pale skin that seemed to drink the light.

But her eyes—red, glowing faintly, and smiling with a quiet, predatory glee—locked onto him.

The phone dangled in her gloved fingers, a toy she’d already grown bored of.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Kael’s blood ran cold.

He knew that face, even if he’d never seen it in person.

Everyone did.

A name whispered in the shadows of every blacklist, never caught, never cornered—only heard in the dying breaths of those who crossed her.

The Reaper.

S-Class villain.

The one heroes feared.

Her smile widened, and Kael’s heart stopped, the basement’s flickering lights casting her shadow like a noose around his neck.

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