Captured by Lightning

Chpt.8

Rex weaved through the desolate docks, the metallic tang of saltwater filling his nostrils. He was far enough. With a single, chilling thought, he unleashed the pathogen within. Tonight, the weak would pay.

Across the slumbering city, a sudden crack of thunder shattered the quiet. But this thunder was laced with screams. People scrambled for cover, the chilling cry echoing through the streets: "The Lightning King!"

Rex, a crackling tempest of raw energy, tore through the Red Light District. Every empowered soul he encountered met a brutal end, their life force fueling his own. The air grew thick with the stench of ozone and burnt flesh. The abandoned electronics store loomed ahead, a silent testament to past chaos. No sign of the twins. They'd scurried back to their pathetic little hideout, no doubt.
Rex scoffed at the flimsy door, blasting a hole through it with a surge of power. He descended the stairs, a predator stalking his prey.

The makeshift war room was a joke. The twins, cornered rats, stood defiantly, electricity sparking between their fingertips. They unleashed a desperate torrent of power, but it was like throwing pebbles at a mountain.

Rex absorbed their attack, his own power surging with each stolen spark. Their defiance fueled him, a twisted satisfaction blooming in his chest. He drained them, leaving them ashen husks, their life force feeding his insatiable hunger.

A wide, unnatural grin stretched across Rex's face – his signature mark of cruelty. He blasted the twins with a final, amplified surge, reducing them to smoldering ash.

The hunt wasn't over. Two more names remained etched on his kill list. And a college to burn. He ripped a hole through the ceiling, rocketing skyward, a harbinger of death bathed in electric light.

The rookie hero arrived, reeking of desperation and a desperate need for glory. Rex didn't waste a thought – the upstart met the same fate as the twins, disintegrated before he could even stammer a name.

Luck, if such a thing existed for Rex, delivered his next target soon after. This one, at least, packed a decent punch. But Rex wasn't interested in a prolonged fight. His Alara, his twisted queen, awaited him, weakened with pain.

The two traded blows, a dance of electric fury. Rex absorbed what he could, fueling his own monstrous power. The hero, known by the laughably pathetic name "Electric Knight," eventually fell, a fried corpse at Rex's feet.

Local heroes, villains – all were mere obstacles. Now, the college. Rex needed to dismantle the facility housing the abhorrent Pathogen-H. Time was of the essence. Flying at breakneck speed, he wouldn't reach it for another half-hour. Locating the pathogen within the vast genetics department would take even longer.

Impatience gnawed at him. He wouldn't waste another minute. A storm of raw energy erupted from his fingertips, igniting the college in a devastating display of power. Load-bearing walls crumbled, pillars groaned, and the entire complex became an inferno.

By the time anyone could react, it would be too late. The flames would consume everything, leaving only a smoldering ruin. Satisfied, Rex turned away, his reserves depleted. It was well past one when he stumbled back to the boat, soaked to the bone and drained.

He collapsed into the cage, stripping off his sodden clothes and tossing them aside. Alara stirred, a sleepy moan escaping her lips.

"My handsome king," she murmured, "I trust you're satisfied?"

Rex leaned in, his kiss a fleeting touch. "Yes, my exquisite queen," he rasped. "The world is a little safer now. Rest."

Sunlight streamed through the tiny cabin window, rousing Alara. Rex stirred beside her, the night's exertion etched on his face. She brushed a soft kiss across his lips, a silent inquiry.

He mumbled a sleepy response, tightening his hold on her. Alara, ever practical, understood. The destruction had taken its toll.

With a gentle wiggle, she slipped free and padded to the kitchenette. The boat's limited power allowed only for a simple breakfast – scrambled eggs and fruit. Yet, she prepared it with care, each slice of plum a testament to her devotion.

Returning to the bed, Alara set the tray down and nudged Rex awake. "Breakfast in bed, Your Majesty," she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes.

"And a most welcome sight it is," he rasped, pulling himself up against the wall.
She straddled his lap, her nearness a silent promise. "You looked exhausted after last night, mon chéri. I worried."

"Worry is unnecessary," he countered, his voice husky. "But a strong king still needs sustenance."

A playful smile curved her lips. "Indeed. Though not so strong you can't lift a spoon."
She made a show of feeding him, the act laced with a subtle dominance. Rex, ever the powerful figure, allowed it with a hint of amusement. Her touch was a balm, a reminder of their shared purpose.

"There," she declared, satisfied. "Now, it's my turn."

Before she could reach for her plate, Rex pinned her to the mattress with a playful glint in his eyes. Laughter bubbled up from her throat as he tickled her mercilessly.