They finally caught up with him in the park. He thought he’d escaped a few days ago, but time had blurred into a gray haze.
He sat in the falling rain, resting on an abandoned swing when the agents began closing their circle. They ringed the park with unmarked vans and stepped out in white hazmat suits, their strange guns ready.
It always rained on him. It was one of his powers, one he couldn’t actively control. They jokingly called him the rain god when they were doing their experiments. But that wasn’t his only power. Above him, lightning crackled.

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