Storm watched Kara from a distance, her fingers twitching slightly as she clenched her fists. The air around her crackled, invisible sparks of electricity dancing along her fingertips. She hadn't expected this, hadn't planned for it, and yet, the moment she laid eyes on Kara, something inside her had clicked into place like a puzzle piece she never realized was missing. It was almost funny—how could a being like this exist? Someone who radiated raw, unfiltered power, yet walked around like she was nothing more than an ordinary girl?
Storm licked her lips, slowly exhaling as she calmed herself. This feeling—this pull—it was unnatural. It was obsession, need, hunger, all wrapped into a crackling storm of absolute fixation. She had felt power before, commanded storms that could rip the sky apart, but this? Kara was a walking hurricane, a force of nature wrapped in human skin. She had to have her.
Lightning didn't ask for permission before it struck. Neither would she.
Her mind drifted back, back to the past, back to the time before she was an X-Man, back when she was something far greater.
A goddess.
She remembered the offerings, the villagers bowing before her, their faces twisted in awe and terror. They had called her a blessing, a curse, a force beyond human comprehension. They had brought her gifts, food, gold—things she had never cared for. But the sacrifices?
The screams?
The raw, electrifying agony as she had unleashed the heavens upon them? That was what made her strong.
The first time it had happened, it was an accident. A desperate woman, accused of some crime she couldn't recall, had been shoved forward by trembling hands. The village elders had turned to her, voices low and reverent.
"She has displeased the goddess."
Storm had tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her mind. Displeased? She hadn't made any rules. Hadn't set any expectations. She had simply existed—and they had chosen to worship her.
Still, she hadn't stopped them. When they had begged her to pass judgment, she had raised her hand, called forth the storm, and let the lightning strike.
The woman's scream had pierced the sky, echoing through the jungle, and then—then she was gone. Not burned, not wounded—gone. Reduced to nothing but a charred shadow on the ground.
And Storm? Storm had felt it—the surge, the raw pulse of power. Her control over the winds had sharpened, her connection to the storm had deepened, as if the very act of vaporizing a soul had fed the atmosphere itself.
She had stared at her hands, flexing her fingers, feeling the charge crackle beneath her skin.
And then, she had laughed.
They had worshiped her even more after that. Had brought more criminals, more sinners, more sacrifices. And each time, she had struck them down, watching them vanish in a brilliant flash of divine retribution.
She didn't know why it worked. She didn't care.
It just did.
And now, standing in this mansion, watching Kara—a being so powerful, so **beyond anything she had ever encountered—**Storm felt that same crackling thrill in her bones.
She wanted to see what Kara looked like under a real storm.
Would she scream? Would she burn?
Or would she survive?
The thought sent a shiver through her spine.
Her fingers twitched again, and for a split second, the overhead lights flickered.
"Something wrong?" Gwen's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Storm turned her head slowly, her blue eyes meeting Gwen's sharp, untrusting gaze. Ah, another one. Another obstacle. She could already tell what kind of person Gwen was—territorial, aggressive, a creature of instinct rather than control.
Storm smiled. "Not at all."
Gwen's jaw clenched slightly. "Good. Because I don't like the way you're looking at her."
Storm's smirk widened. "Oh? And how am I looking at her?"
"Like you're about to strike her with lightning and call it a love letter," Wanda chimed in, floating nearby with an entertained grin.
Storm chuckled. "Wouldn't be the worst way to confess."
Natasha, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke, her voice calm but firm. "You're new to this group. Don't push your luck."
Storm tilted her head slightly, pretending to consider the words. "Is that a warning, agent?"
Natasha didn't blink. "It's a statement."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Kara, completely oblivious to the tension thickening around her, stretched her arms over her head, unknowingly drawing every set of eyes to the movement. Her shirt lifted just slightly, exposing the defined, flawless muscle of her stomach.
Storm barely suppressed a hungry inhale.
She wanted.
And when Storm wanted something, nothing stood in her way.
"Hey, Storm," Kara's voice broke the moment. "Wanna spar?"
Oh.
Oh, this was perfect.
Storm's lips curled. "You sure? I wouldn't want to hurt you."
Kara grinned. "Nah, I can take a hit."
Storm stepped forward, slowly cracking her knuckles. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The rest of the group immediately tensed.
Natasha crossed her arms, watching with narrowed eyes. Gwen scowled, already looking like she wanted to intervene. Wanda simply leaned against the wall, smirking, while Rogue, for the first time in a while, actually looked wary.
Kara, still blissfully unaware, rolled her shoulders. "Let's go outside. Don't wanna break anything in here."
Storm followed her, each step crackling with barely-contained electric anticipation.
She could feel it.
The moment she let loose, the moment she called the sky to witness this fight—
She would know.
Would Kara scream?
Would she burn?
Or would she be the first to withstand the storm?
Storm licked her lips.
She couldn't wait to find out.
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