Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 203: CRACK.

Chapter 203: CRACK.

The basement lights flickered.

The air vibrated, electricity cracked, a low hum of raw power.

CRACK.

A fist exploded from the shadows, full force, full fury, slamming square into the Reaper’s jaw.

Her smile vanished as she flew sideward, crashing into a concrete wall with a bone-rattling impact.

Dust and debris erupted, the wall cracking like thunder.

The shadows binding Kael dissolved like smoke, and he dropped, hitting the floor hard.

He coughed, gasping for air, his throat raw as he sucked in desperate lungfulls.

His vision blurred, but he heard it—boots, footsteps, familiar, controlled, deadly.

Rolling onto his side, Kael looked toward the ruined wall, where the punch had come from.

His heart pounded, but his mind caught up.

Only one woman hit like that for him—precise, brutal, unstoppable.

Liss.

Aka.

Lightning Lass.

Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, loose and wild, catching the flicker of fluorescent tubes like spun gold.

Electric blue eyes glowed with stormlight, sharp and unyielding.

Her superhero suit hugged her curves, silver and navy with glowing circuitry pulsing like veins of thunder across the fabric.

A stylized white lightning bolt split her chest, the emblem of Lightning Lass, S-Class superhero, a rising star who burned brighter than most.

She stepped into the light, shoulders squared, her face calm but fierce, a predator in repose.

The air around her crackled faintly, charged with her presence.

Kael exhaled, a weak smile tugging at his lips as he played dumb for any unseen watchers, though the basement felt eerily empty.

"Oh, thank you, hero Lightning Lass," he rasped, his voice dry, acting like they weren’t acquaintances, but he was underpinned with raw relief.

Liss raised an eyebrow, catching his tone but rolling with it like a pro.

"Just visiting the hospital," she said loudly, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder, her voice carrying for the benefit of any hidden ears. "Was on Basement 4 when I heard strange noises. Followed them down to Basement 6."

Kael froze, his smile faltering.

Basement 6?

He turned, his eyes darting to the nearest pillar.

Painted in faded white.

B6.

His gut twisted, a cold realization sinking in.

He’d pressed the button for Basement 4, hadn’t he?

The elevator, the hallway, the layout—it had all felt right. But now, the truth hit like a sucker punch.

The elevator had been tampered with, rerouting him to a deeper, more isolated level.

The emptiness, the silence—it wasn’t chance.

It was a trap.

His gaze flicked to the far end of the basement, where staff vehicles should’ve been parked.

His truck was gone—or rather, it had never been here.

They moved the battlefield, he thought, a chill crawling up his spine.

Lured him like a rat into a cage.

Liss stepped forward, her body a shield between him and the chaos.

"Stay behind me," she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for debate. "I’ve got this."

Kael didn’t argue.

His legs were jelly, his empathetic resonance useless without touch, and running would only make him bait.

He leaned against the pillar, catching his breath, trusting Liss to do what she did best—unleash hell.

Her hand rose, fingers crackling with electricity that danced like living serpents across her skin.

The concrete floor glowed faintly beneath her heels, each step sending a pulse of static through the air.

The basement hummed, the tension coiling like a storm about to break.

Then—flash.

She moved, a blur of lightning too fast for Kael’s eyes to track.

One moment she stood before him; the next, she was gone, a white-hot bolt searing through the shadows like divine wrath.

A grunt, a crash—the muscular man didn’t stand a chance.

He’d barely raised his fists when Liss struck, her electrified palm slamming into his chest.

His body convulsed, eyes rolling back as he collapsed, twitching, the scent of singed cloth rising from his crumpled form.

Another flash—Whiplash’s scream split the air.

Her whip lashed toward Liss, a desperate arc, but the electricity leapt along the leather like it was a conductor, racing up her arm.

Whiplash shrieked, her body jerking as the current fried her nerves, her knees buckling.

She hit the ground, paralyzed, her whip clattering uselessly beside her.

Liss didn’t slow, her movements fluid, precise, a storm in human form.

No blood, no mess—just the sharp tang of ionized air and the faint crackle of residual voltage.

She reappeared beside Kael, her breathing steady, her suit unmarred, as if the fight had been a warm-up.

But the Reaper was gone.

Kael’s eyes swept the corners, finding nothing but shadows swallowing the edges of the basement.

No trace, no sound—yet he felt her, a lingering brush of malice in the air, like a predator retreating to stalk another day.

A whisper ghosted behind his ears, faint as smoke.

"I’ll be back for you."

He shivered, the words sinking into his bones.

Liss stood closer, her hands still humming with faint sparks, her blue eyes scanning his battered form—torn shirt, bruised neck, bloodied shoulder.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now, concern breaking through her hero’s mask. "You look like you’ve been through a meat grinder."

Kael managed a tired grin, leaning heavier against the pillar. "Had better nights. Worse ones, too."

"What happened?" She brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

"They came for me," Kael said, his voice low, the weight of it settling in his chest. "Wanted to use my powers—my empathetic resonance. Said I could twist heroes, turn them into villains, just like I fix villains into heroes."

Liss went still, her jaw tightening, her gaze sharpening. "They wanted you to flip heroes?"

He nodded, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Apparently, my knack for ’rehabbing’ villains means I can break heroes just as easily."

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes locked on his.

Then she stepped closer, her height and presence suddenly overwhelming, even in her calm.

Kael remembered how tall she was, how effortlessly she could command a room—or a battlefield.

"They don’t know you," she said, her voice firm, almost fierce. "Not even a little."

Kael tilted his head, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "That’s—"

"You’d rather die than hurt someone innocent," she cut in, her smirk softening but not fading. "You’d bleed out before crossing that line."

He laughed, embarrassed, scratching the back of his head. "Okay, that’s a bit dramatic—"

"Is it?" she interrupted, her smirk turning playful, her blue eyes glinting with something warmer, more dangerous.

Her fingertips grazed his neck, light as a spark, tracing the shadow-shaped bruises where the Reaper’s grip had nearly ended him.

Kael flinched, the skin tender, but her touch was gentle, almost reverent, memorizing the marks like a promise to repay them.

"They came too close," she murmured, her voice low, a storm brewing beneath it.

Kael swallowed, his throat tight, not from pain but from her proximity.

Her eyes met his, stormlight dancing behind her lashes, pulling him in.

Then she leaned closer, her warmth brushing against him, her breath a soft tease against his skin.

No words. Just heat.

Her lips brushed his, a fleeting spark that ignited something deeper.

Kael froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard, then leaned into it, his hands finding her waist.

The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, her tongue grazing his, a jolt of electricity in every touch.

Her hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her suit humming faintly against his chest.

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