Chapter 1: Introduction
That fucker Clark Kent. He thought I wouldn't find out. Thought I wouldn't be able to do a goddamn thing about it. Henry Corrigan would beg to differ.
They locked me up. The "justice" system. Sure, they nabbed me red-handed, but what if I didn't possess these mutant abilities back then? They couldn't have had enough evidence. Yet here I sat—paying for his actions against me.
Like hell, I would.
If Clark Kent wanted a showdown, I'd give it to him, with a dash of sweet revenge just for kicks. The bastard was locked up tight, and the bars couldn't keep me from going in, no matter what the guards thought.
I used my power to phase through the metal mesh like it was fucking air, leaving only a shimmering silhouette behind. The guard at his desk jumped—a fat little man, leering at his monitor and stroking his fat stomach.
My sudden arrival drained every tinge of color from his face. He fumbled with his gun, but I was on him before he could pull it out and stick it up my ass—tempting as that was with that tub of pork. My hand wrapped around his podgy throat while I whispered threats into his ear, letting him feel the extent of my displeasure.
His squeals and contemptible begging aroused something primal within me. The lustful bulge in his uniform trousers grew more prominent by the second as he struggled to breathe.
Rasping cries escaped his fat lips as I tightened my grip. His blatant arousal brought a twisted smile to my lips. This chubby guard had secrets. The thought of taking advantage of them struck me. I slid a single finger down his cheek, then traced his bulging neck to the mound pressing hard against his belt.
"Whore," he gasped, face turning red.
I unfastened his pants as fast as I could and yanked them, along with his boxers, halfway down his white thighs.
"Oh, Christ. What the fuck are you doing?" he managed to say, still choking and gasping for breath.
"Catching up on some long-overdue justice," I said, my grin widening devilishly. I squeezed his throbbing cock teasingly before stroking it—slow and deliberate—igniting a fire that coiled in the depths of his trembling body. I found myself enjoying this little game just a tad too much. However, it was a pleasure I couldn't allow to go unchecked for very long.
I had a plan to execute—one that needed Clark Kent's undivided attention. My intricate scheme of using the stolen powers to manipulate electronic systems had been a cakewalk. Now, the system displayed a fake break-in alert, painting Clark Kent as the desperate fugitive.
The sweltering guards' lounge housed several desks, computers, and monitors, which I efficiently commandeered to further my malevolent design.
Soon, I integrated my alterations into the prison system that would incriminate Clark Kent and leave me inconspicuous. I was surprised by the simplicity of infiltrating such a high-security facility, all because of a little tech-savvy.
But Clark Kent was an impotent fool. I finished doctoring the footage, leaving enough hints pointing to him as the potential mastermind while effectively removing any trace of my involvement.
Before leaving the now-chaotic lounge, I took one last pleasure-filled look at the trembling, squirming guard I had pinned to the desk and decided to leave him with one final treat. I tugged at his cock a few more times before allowing his release to shoot all over my hand. "Remember Clark Kent did this to you" I said "yeah" he replied barley awake.
He didn't ask any question and I didn't ask for his forgiveness. I simply stared at him for a while longer, my fingers sticky with the release I made him surrender to me. Just as I had planned, the system alarms flashed. Cells doors popped open, guards scrambled to secure the breach, and a hunt for respected reporter Clark Kent began.
I slipped out, leaving behind scant clues, connecting Clark Kent to the security breach. A wicked grin spread across my face—it was working, and no one suspected I was orchestrating this.
It was perfect. Like that time I orchestrated the intricate jailbreak for the Belleview Boys, right under the noses of the cops. It looked like Clark Kent wouldn't even be able to save himself from my ingenious plan. I had everything meticulously plotted—he would go down, leaving no crumbs behind linking me to the crime.
While henchmen assembled in the control room scurried about, fighting to control another chaotic breach like helpless ants, I entered the core, knowing that Clark Kent's cell lay nearby.