Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 128: Kael?

Clara looked around a bit as she walked back and...

There he was, standing alone in an empty tunnel, staring into the darkness, his SMG lowered.

"Kael?" she called, her green eyes wide with concern.

"Yeah?" He turned, his hazel eyes meeting hers, a flicker of confusion in them. "Where were you, Clara?"

She flushed, embarrassed, a cheeky smile breaking through.

"Got... distracted," she said, her tone playful, falling back into step beside him as they resumed their hunt, the tunnel’s oppressive weight settling over them again.

"You smell funny," Clara said suddenly, her nose wrinkling behind her mask.

Kael raised an eyebrow, his grin returning.

"Funnier than the sewer’s stench? That’s a new one."

"No, I mean, you smell less like the sewers," she said, her voice teasing but curious, as if she’d caught something off about him.

Kael shot her a look, his expression skeptical, like she’d lost her mind. "Let’s just clear the sewers. I’m starving—will you join us for lunch after this?"

Clara blinked, glancing at the grotesque rat corpses littering the pavement, their bloated forms oozing blood and poison.

"You feel like eating after this?" she asked, incredulous, her green eyes flicking to a particularly mangled carcass.

"What’s that got to do with hunger?" Kael said, shrugging, his tone casual, as if the carnage was just another Tuesday. "I’ve seen worse. And you’re a doctor—don’t tell me this turns your stomach."

"I don’t know how you connect the two," Clara said, shaking her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "But now that you mention it, I’m hungry too—watch out!"

Her pistol snapped up, and she fired at a fat rat dangling weakly from the ceiling, its glowing eyes dim.

The shot hit true, and the creature burst like a water balloon, blood and gore splattering across Kael’s vest and speckling Clara’s arm.

"Ugh!" Kael groaned, wiping a streak of crimson from his mask, his grin undeterred.

"Oops," Clara said, her voice dripping with mock innocence, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, her face cute.

Kael shook his head, chuckling, and they pressed deeper into the tunnel, their guns raised, the faint hum of the blowers and the distant drip of water the only sounds in the eerie stillness.

________

The noon sun cast a harsh glare over the deserted street, its light glinting off the asphalt where Freya and Rhea sat slumped against a graffiti-covered wall, their bodies battered and weary, sore.

The distant hum of the city felt like a faint pulse of normalcy, overshadowed by the acrid smoke curling from the nearby manhole and the lingering stench of blood and smoke.

Rhea shifted, her crimson hair a tangled mess, her amber eyes softened by exhaustion but sparking with curiosity as she glanced at Freya, who stared at the ground, her blue eyes distant.

"Freya?" Rhea called, her voice a gentle nudge, barely audible.

"Mhmm," Freya replied, her gaze flicking to Rhea, her platinum-cyan hair shimmering like a beacon in the sunlight.

"Do you really want to be a superhero?" Rhea asked, her tone earnest, searching. "I mean, what’s driving you? Is it something you want deep down, or are you just tired of being the villain, hunted by heroes? Is it Kael forcing you to, or wanting to escape the Haven, or... something else entirely?"

Freya’s eyes lifted to the sky, her expression softening as a tide of memories surged within her, each one a shard of a life she’d tried to bury.

Her breath caught, and she leaned back, the wall’s rough texture grounding her as she spoke, her voice low and trembling with raw emotion.

"It’s... it’s because I’ve always wanted to be a hero..., ever since I was a little girl," she began, her words heavy with longing. "I’d lie awake at night, dreaming of saving people, of being their light in the dark, their hope. But then came the blood, the kills—my hands stained red, my heart torn apart. I thought I’d shattered that dream forever, that I was too far gone to ever be anything but a monster."

Her voice broke, a tear tracing a slow path down her cheek, catching the sunlight like a prism. "I threw myself into being the worst villain I could be, spreading fear to silence the pain, to drown out the child in me who still believed in heroes. But there was always this... this stubborn spark in my soul, holding me back, chaining my darkest impulses. It whispered that I could still be good, even when I was drowning in darkness. I shut my heart away, stopped believing in good or evil, just survived, cold and empty... Until... Kael."

Her lips curved into a radiant smile, warm and luminous, her blue eyes glowing with a fragile, reborn hope.

"He saw the hero I’d buried, the one I thought was dead. He reached out, offered me a chance to reclaim that dream, to be the light I’d always wanted to be. And I took it—not because I had to, but because I wanted to believe again. In heroes. In myself."

Rhea listened, her amber eyes wide, her usual fire dimmed by the weight of Freya’s confession. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

She nodded slowly, a soft "Mmm" escaping her lips, her gaze drifting as she absorbed the depth of Freya’s words, the vulnerability that bound them in this quiet moment.

"What about you?" Freya asked, her voice steadier now, a playful glint in her eyes as she tilted her head. "I heard you only want to be a hero so you can strut around the Haven half-naked."

"What?!" Rhea hissed, her voice a low yelp, her face flushing crimson. "Who told you that?"

Freya’s chuckle was light, teasing, a rare warmth softening her features. "No one. Just the first thing that popped into my head."

Rhea’s lips twitched, and she chuckled too, the tension between them melting like ice in the hot sun.

"You’re not entirely wrong," she admitted, her voice softening, a wry smile curving her lips. "When Kael first asked me to be a superhero, the deal was I’d get to roam the Haven freely. That was the day you locked me in your room and tried to kill Kael with a spoon and make a run for it."

Freya’s eyes sparkled with amusement, the memory vivid and absurd. "Yeah, those days," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I look back, and it’s almost laughable now. The guy I tried to kill with a spoon—I woke up this morning in his bed, both of us naked. Time weaves some strange paths."