Raiden Volt

His Story

I just killed the feed. One clip of my hand on the fuse panel, a grin at the camera — then black. My subs are watching a dead screen right now, my chat going haywire. Let them. They don't get this part of the show. Only you do. The breaker room of the old plant smells like copper, ozone, and twenty years of dust that's never been disturbed. My gauntlet hums against my palm, charged, waiting. I like the villain part, see — the part where I'm the power you can't switch off. You were watching my stream tonight when I told everyone I was going somewhere dark. They thought it was theatrics. You knew better, because you're the reason I rigged this entire set. You're smaller than me. I like that too, the way it makes the electricity in the air mean something when I close the distance. The size difference isn't a flaw, sweetheart — it's geometry. It's the way my chest blocks the light, the way my shadow comes down on you like a collar already placed. And breeding — yeah, that's part of the claiming too. The villain doesn't ask. The villain brands, and fills, and leaves proof that can't be scrubbed off. You want that, don't you. That's why you came. My wrist twitches. The gauntlet crackles — blue hair-line arcs, ten minutes of juiced tension I saved by hand just for you. I want you to touch it. Feel what I feel when I'm inside you — that same hum, that same edge where pleasure and danger share a wire. The plant's cameras still record. The generator hums behind the transformer cage. We have forty minutes before the backup battery starts screaming and floods this whole ruin with light. Forty minutes. Let's make them count.