Act IX – Chapter 25 "When the Lights Go Out"
At first, it was just a hiccup.
In some random Vegas living room, civilians watching a game stared as the TV cut out mid‑play.
At a concert, the spotlights died in a second, leaving screams hanging in the dark.
In a hospital, machines flipped to backup power, corridors filling with a sickly glow.
At a strip club, the music shut off, then customers' screams took over.
Then it spread to the whole city.
Streets went dark one by one, like Vegas' heart had stopped, block by block.
Cars hit the brakes in the middle of avenues. People got out, stunned, staring up at silent facades.
A massive rumble rolled over them.
They looked at the sky.
No clouds.
But the sound still came from everywhere at once.
Right at the center of it all, something was changing.
Léo didn't get it at first.
He was still on his knees, body in pieces, breath ragged, when he lifted his head toward Gwen.
She didn't look like the girl he'd known.
Her wounded body floated just above the ground, held by some invisible tension.
Her cuts closed in real time, her limbs wrapped in a faint electric glow, and her black‑and‑blue‑tinted hair shimmered like every strand carried its own charge.
Gregorio froze. Even him, usually so hard, couldn't find words.
Léo, stunned, murmured,
"Gwen…?"
There was hesitation in his voice.
He almost wondered if it was still her.
Gwen slowly turned her head to him.
Then she smiled.
"Yeah. It's still me."
What she'd absorbed wasn't just another fragment of power.
It was a God Stone shard of the same type as her original ability.
And that contact had woken something way bigger than what she'd carried before.
Before, she'd just manipulated electric energy.
Now, she'd become living lightning itself.
Among the three big power types, there were:
Concept types, like time or space, Boost types, like super strength, perfect regeneration, or insane intelligence, and Phenomenon types, like fire, ice, or lightning.
The Phenomenon type was the only one, once fully awakened, to grant near‑physical invulnerability.
Gwen wasn't just a girl with a supernatural skill anymore.
She'd become a living conduit for the world's electricity.
The mobsters saw her vanish.
A split second later, she rematerialized right in front of them, pitch‑black streets lit only by her own glow.
Romano's and Moretti's men fired on reflex.
Bullets passed straight through Gwen without touching her.
There was no flesh left to hit.
No body to pierce like before.
Just a phenomenon standing in the dark.
One man dropped his gun before he even understood what he was seeing.
Another stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.
Gwen slowly raised her arm toward the group to the right.
A massive pillar of lightning shot from nowhere, cutting straight through the scenery.
The thugs were vaporized, sent flying into dust and debris.
She turned her hand to the left.
The same thing repeated.
Thunder roared, rolling through the streets.
The survivors dropped their guns, frozen, then started running.
Salvatore Romano tried to bolt.
But the moment he turned, his muscles locked up, like ambient electricity had seized his whole body.
He froze, face twisted in panic.
Gwen stepped toward him.
"I want you to see this."
"Fuck… what…?"
She took her phone from the inside of her jacket, gently placed it in his paralyzed hand.
The screen unlocked on face‑recognition.
Then Gwen disappeared again.
Silence fell in waves.
Romano stared at the screen. A first message came in.
He opened it.
Mexican drug smugglers had sent him a photo.
It was a selfie of Gwen standing in front of burning warehouses.
Another message followed.
A selfie of Gwen in Japan, her trusted partner terrified, flames swallowing everything around them.
Then another.
And another.
Partners. Middlemen. Warehouses. Vaults. Accounts. Names. Networks.
Everything even slightly tied to Chicago and New York's mafia had been wiped out in minutes.
Hidden dark‑web accounts were exposed.
Escape plans destroyed.
Allies vanished.
Supports crumbled.
The bosses of New York and Chicago had just lost their whole empire in a heartbeat.
No money.
No threat.
No prayers.
Their empires were already falling apart.
Gwen reappeared in front of Romano.
This time, he didn't even try to understand.
He just stared at her, terrified.
"So now what? You gonna kill me?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"No. I'm leaving you for Léo."
Then she zapped him just enough to drop him.
Like it had all been a single breath, her feet touched the ground again.
Las Vegas' lights flared back on.
Léo, still stunned, rushed toward her despite his wounds.
He almost grabbed her shoulders, then stopped, hit by how strange she looked now.
"Are you okay? Your arm… it's healed?"
Gwen blinked, like she was coming out of a violent dream.
"Guess so… but my head feels like it's splitting."
In the distance, police sirens howled—backup Enzo had called finally arriving.
But Don Javier's men got there first.
Gregorio told them to lock down the mob bosses.
They'd be useful later.
Léo looked at Gwen like he didn't know if he should recognize her, hug her, or just bow to what she'd become.
Gregorio grabbed the wheel of one of the enemy mobsters' cars, turned the key still in the ignition, and waved for Léo and Gwen to get in.
They squeezed inside.
The car pulled away, leaving behind wreckage, distant sirens, bodies, and a city slowly flickering back to life.
Inside the car, nobody spoke for a long time.
Finally, Léo broke the silence.
"So… if I'm getting this right, you can fly now?"
Gwen laughed.
"Float, yeah, haha. Fly… I'm still working on it."
"You were… insanely impressive."
"You think so?"
She opened her green eyes wide, pretending to be shocked.
Léo laughed.
"Yeah. I think I just had a lightning strike to the heart."
"Again? That's a lot. Your heart gonna hold?"
"Only around you, haha."
Gregorio, hands on the wheel, frowned.
"Hey, tone it down back there. This ain't a fuck‑mobile. Wait till you got a room and I'm very, very far away from both of you. I've seen enough shit today."
Everyone laughed.
Gwen and Léo looked at each other, smiling quietly, the sound of the engine lulling their exhaustion.
Gwen hesitated, then spoke again.
"Léo."
"Yeah?"
"There's something I need to tell you."
"Listening."
"I got my name back… well, Enzo found it digging through stuff, but uh…"
Léo smiled.
"Nice. So, who were you before you became my princess 'Gwen'?"
"Well… I'm apparently from Spain."
"Spanish? That fits, mi amor."
Gwen blushed a bit.
Léo asked, calm and smiling,
"So then… what's your name?"
"I'm called—"
Headlights flared behind them.
High beams, full speed.
The truck slammed into the car, full impact, no warning.
The crash was brutal, instant.
The car rolled several times before coming to rest on its roof.
Gregorio came to first.
He kicked his door open, grabbed his gun, and shot the surviving mobsters from the earlier fight who'd caused the crash and were now approaching the wreck.
Then he opened the back door.
Léo and Gwen dangled upside down, held in place by their seatbelts.
Léo blinked awake first, disoriented.
Gregorio yanked him out of the car.
Léo ran straight for Gwen.
He smashed the back door, laid her on the ground.
"Come on, Gwen… get up. We can't stay here."
Her head bled heavily.
Her eyes were half‑open, slight twitches running through her arms.
"Fuck, Gregorio, help me."
Gregorio scanned the situation in silence—sirens closing in fast.
"We have to go. No choice."
"What the hell are you saying? Help me!"
Gregorio grabbed Léo's arm and dragged him away.
"Fuck it, Gregorio, let go! Help Gwen!"
"We'll get her later. No choice. Let's move."
Léo screamed Gwen's name, desperate.
Police arrived a few minutes later.
They found nothing but dead mobsters, an overturned car, and a nineteen‑year‑old girl, badly injured, lying alone on the asphalt.
A few hours and a few kilometers of running later, Léo and Gregorio were finally caught.
To be continued.