The quiet didn't last long.
Two weeks after the Rift fight, we were starting to feel unstoppable. Missions were smoother, sex was hotter, and the purple sparks during our "research sessions" were lingering longer on my skin each time. Elena swore she could feel something shifting—like a battery slowly charging inside me.
We were wrong about unstoppable.
It started with a whisper on the dark web channels Elena monitored.
A name: Shadowfall.
No photos. No real identity. Just rumors.
A metahuman who could manipulate darkness itself—solidify shadows into weapons, teleport through them, drain light and energy from anything he touched. He'd been quiet for years, operating in Eastern Europe, taking down rival crime lords with surgical precision. Now intel said he'd crossed the Atlantic.
Target: Thick Chick.
Reason: Unknown.
We didn't have to wait long for him to announce himself.
It happened on a foggy Thursday night in the financial district.
A black-tie gala at the top of the city's tallest skyscraper—charity event for some children's hospital. Elena had scored invites through one of her graphic design clients (cover story holding strong). We went in civilian clothes: her in a backless red gown that hugged every curve like liquid fire, me in a tailored black suit feeling like James Bond's less competent cousin.
We were mingling, sipping champagne, when the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then died completely.
Emergency generators kicked in, bathing the rooftop ballroom in dim red glow.
People laughed nervously—power outage, no big deal.
Until the shadows started moving.
They peeled off the walls like living ink, coalescing in the center of the room into a tall, lean figure. Black tactical armor that seemed to absorb light. A hooded cloak made of writhing darkness. Featureless mask with only faint silver eyes glowing behind it.
The room went silent.
"Good evening," he said, voice smooth and cold, amplified somehow. "I'm here for Thick Chick. The rest of you may leave."
Panic erupted.
Elena's hand tightened on my arm.
I leaned in. "That him?"
She nodded once, eyes already glowing faint violet under the red lights.
Shadowfall tilted his head, as if listening.
"No need to hide, Elena Voss," he called. "I know exactly who you are. And who your little boyfriend is."
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as we stepped forward.
Guests fled toward the elevators and stairwells. Security guards raised weapons—useless.
Shadowfall raised one hand.
Shadows lashed out like whips, disarming the guards in seconds, pinning them gently but firmly to walls.
"Non-lethal," Elena murmured. "He's showing restraint."
"For now," I replied.
We faced him across the marble floor.
Thick Chick stepped forward first, gown shifting as her body tensed—ready to change into the suit hidden beneath (nanotech weave she could activate with a thought).
"Shadowfall," she said calmly. "Never thought you'd come stateside."
He inclined his head. "Your reputation precedes you. Defeating demons in Rome. Hybrids in warehouses. Even taking a sidekick." His glowing eyes flicked to me. "Adorable."
I bristled. "Got a problem?"
"Only with her," he replied. "She possesses something I need."
Elena's chin lifted. "You'll have to be more specific."
He extended a hand.
Darkness surged—tendrils racing across the floor toward her.
She activated the suit in a flash of purple light. The red gown dissolved into nanites, reforming instantly into her glossy black catsuit with armored plating. Mask snapped into place.
Battle mode.
She met the shadows head-on, fists glowing, shattering tendrils into mist.
I moved—grapnel firing to the ceiling, swinging high to flank.
Shadowfall anticipated.
A wall of solid darkness rose in my path. I hit it hard—felt like slamming into cold concrete. Dropped, rolling to avoid follow-up spears of shadow that punched through marble where I'd been.
Elena flew at him—literally—launching into the air, speed blurring her into a purple streak.
He teleported through his own shadow, reappearing behind her.
A blade of darkness slashed across her back.
She cried out as the suit tore, a long gash opening. No blood—suit absorbed most of it—but pain flashed in her eyes.
Rage hit me like a drug.
I charged, baton extended, EMP charge primed.
Shadowfall flicked a finger.
Shadows wrapped my legs, yanking me off my feet, slamming me to the ground. Pressure built—crushing, cold.
"Loverman," he said almost gently. "Stay down. This isn't your fight."
Elena roared, aura exploding outward in a violet shockwave that shredded his bindings.
She hit him center mass, driving him through a glass wall onto the outdoor terrace.
I scrambled up, following.
The fight spilled across the rooftop—city lights far below, fog swirling.
Shadowfall was fast. Precise. Every move calculated.
He drained her energy with touches—black tendrils siphoning purple glow wherever they landed.
She was slowing.
I threw everything I had—smoke pellets, flashbangs, EMP darts.
He absorbed or deflected most, but one dart hit his shoulder.
He hissed—first real reaction.
Elena capitalized, landing a brutal combo that cracked his mask, sending him staggering.
But he recovered too fast.
A massive shadow construct formed—a giant clawed hand that swatted her out of the sky.
She hit the terrace hard, suit smoking, mask cracked.
I ran to her.
"Elena!"
She coughed, pushing up. "I'm okay. But he's stronger than intel said."
Shadowfall advanced slowly, cloak billowing like living night.
"I don't want to kill you," he said. "Just the core of your power. The artifact residue in your cells. I need it."
Elena stood, swaying slightly. "Over my dead body."
He sighed. "That can be arranged."
I stepped in front of her.
"Not happening."
He actually laughed. "Brave. Stupid. But brave."
Then he struck.
Shadows exploded everywhere—total darkness engulfing the rooftop.
I couldn't see. Could barely breathe.
Groping, I found Elena's hand.
She squeezed once.
Then light—her light—flared.
She unleashed everything.
A massive purple nova burst from her body, shredding the darkness, illuminating the entire terrace like daylight.
Shadowfall was hurled backward, cloak tearing, mask shattering completely.
For the first time, we saw his face.
Mid-thirties. Sharp, almost beautiful features—high cheekbones, pale skin, silver-white hair. Scar running through one eyebrow. Eyes pure glowing silver.
He looked… almost regretful.
"This isn't over," he said quietly.
Then he melted into the remaining shadows and vanished.
The darkness lifted.
We stood alone on the wrecked terrace—sirens wailing far below, helicopters approaching.
Elena's suit was in tatters. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead.
I had bruises everywhere and what felt like cracked ribs.
But we were alive.
She pulled off her broken mask, hair wild, eyes fierce.
"Shadowfall," she said. "Real name unknown. But he's not a monster. He's calculated. Patient. And he wants something inside me."
I pulled her close, careful of injuries.
"Then he'll have to go through both of us."
She rested her head on my shoulder.
"He will. Again and again. This is personal now."
We flew home low and slow—her carrying me, both of us silent.
Back in the lair, we patched each other up—stitches, ice packs, painkillers.
Then, without words, we moved to the bedroom.
The sex was different this time.
Not experimental. Not playful.
Raw. Healing.
She pushed me onto the bed, stripped us both with urgent hands.
Her mouth on me was desperate—slow at first, savoring, then faster, needing.
I felt the energy build stronger than ever—purple sparks jumping from her lips to my skin, sinking deep.
When I came, it was with a groan that felt like release and warning at once.
She climbed on top immediately, sinking down onto me, riding slow and deep.
Her pussy clenched with that familiar superhuman grip, but tonight it felt like she was pouring everything into me—power, fear, love.
Purple glow enveloped us both, brighter than ever before.
For the first time, I felt it.
A spark.
Deep in my core.
Not imagination.
Real.
When we came together—her crying out, me thrusting up into her—the energy surged.
Just for a second, my hands glowed faint violet.
Then it faded.
We collapsed, tangled and breathless.
"Did you—?" she whispered.
"Yeah," I said. "I felt it."
She kissed me slow and deep.
"He's coming back," she said. "And when he does, you might be ready."
I held her tighter.
"Let him come."
Outside, the city slept.
But in the shadows, a new player watched.
Shadowfall.
Our recurring nightmare.
And the real war had just begun.