Riftmaster's rule had taken hold completely.
In just a few short months, the world had been reshaped in his image. Every major city now featured towering statues of him — black and silver figures with glowing eyes, standing tall in public squares, government plazas, and even former hero memorials. His face appeared on new currency, on billboards, on every television channel. "The Age of True Power Has Begun," the propaganda read. Schools taught children that the old heroes had failed and that Riftmaster had brought order.
He had formed a super villain group — Extinction Legion — made up of the worst criminals and powered beings he had freed or recruited. Shadowblade, Voidreaver, Siren, Chronos, and others now operated openly under his banner. They enforced his laws with brutal efficiency. Resistance was met with swift punishment: public executions broadcast live, entire neighborhoods plunged into permanent darkness, or leaders "re-educated" on air.
And Riftmaster celebrated his victory in the most decadent way possible.
In the rebuilt White House — now renamed the Rift Citadel — he hosted lavish orgies almost every night. Models, actresses, influencers, and beautiful women from every corner of the world were brought to him. Tonight was no different.
The grand ballroom was filled with silk drapes, low lighting, and pulsing music. Riftmaster lounged on a massive throne-like couch, shirt open, silver eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Three stunning models — one blonde, one brunette, one redhead — knelt before him, taking turns sucking his cock. Their lips worked in tandem, tongues swirling, moaning softly as they competed for his attention.
"Faster," he commanded lazily, hand tangled in the blonde's hair. "Show your new ruler how grateful you are."
The blonde took him deeper, gagging slightly, while the brunette licked his balls and the redhead kissed his chest. Riftmaster groaned in satisfaction, dark energy tendrils gently caressing their bodies, heightening their pleasure and ensuring their loyalty.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "The Super Couple thought they could stop me. Now look at the world. Mine. All mine."
He pulled the blonde up, bending her over the arm of the couch and thrusting into her from behind. She moaned loudly — a mix of real pleasure and fear. The other two women kissed each other and touched themselves, waiting their turn. Riftmaster fucked her hard, laughing between grunts. "This is power. This is what they could never understand."
The orgy continued late into the night — women moaning, bodies writhing, Riftmaster taking them one after another, sometimes two at once. His laughter echoed through the halls as he celebrated his empire.
Meanwhile, far away in our heavily monitored house, Elena and I barely spoke.
Our relationship was strained to the breaking point.
We still lived together, still slept in the same bed, but the warmth was gone. The guilt of surrendering had poisoned everything. We worked independently now — trying to locate and rescue the world leaders Riftmaster held hostage. It was dangerous, secretive work. We barely coordinated. We barely touched.
I spent most of my time alone, watching old movies again, trying to numb the pain. Elena trained in the garden — pushing her powers harder than ever, golden highlights flashing as she practiced new techniques. We exchanged brief, tense words when necessary.
One evening, I found her in the kitchen, staring at a holographic map of Riftmaster's strongholds.
"I think I found where they're keeping the President," she said without looking at me. Her voice was flat. "Underground facility in Nevada. I'm going tonight. Alone."
I nodded, jaw tight. "I'll check the one in Siberia. The Prime Minister might be there."
She finally looked at me — eyes tired, distant. "Be careful."
"You too."
No kiss. No "I love you." Just silence as we went our separate ways.
I flew to Siberia under cover of night — suit on, aura dimmed to avoid detection. The facility was heavily guarded by clones and Extinction Legion members. I moved like a shadow — using violet energy to disable cameras, strength to silently take down patrols. I found the Prime Minister — chained, exhausted, but alive.
"I'm getting you out," I whispered, breaking his restraints.
He looked at me with a mix of hope and bitterness. "The Super Couple… you surrendered. Why should I trust you now?"
"Because we're trying to fix it," I said quietly. "We made a mistake. We're trying to make it right."
I managed to extract him and several other hostages, teleporting them to a safe resistance cell. But as I was leaving, a rift opened behind me.
Riftmaster's voice echoed.
"Nice try, Loverman."
Clones swarmed me. I fought hard — violet blasts, strength punches — but they were too many. One hit me with a suppression field. My powers flickered. I tried to break free, but a final blow to the back of my head sent everything dark.
When I woke up, I was in a dark cell — chains binding my wrists, power dampeners humming around me.
Riftmaster stood outside the bars, smirking.
"Welcome home, hero. Your wife will be so disappointed."
Elena was still out there — alone, fighting.
And I had just been captured.
The Super Couple was falling apart.