Chief Inspector Hodgens gazed across the interrogation room table. On the other side, the super-villain ThunderStrike sat sullenly. He wore all-black with black nail polish and black eyeliner. A mop of black-dyed hair fell across one eye.
“Why not just talk to me?” said Hodgens.
“I do not speak with mere mortals,” sneered ThunderStrike (aka: George Peet).
“You’re no god.”
“I am too! Fear me!” Peet tried to point in lordly fashion, but his hands were handcuffed to the table.
“I think you’re pissed because a common beat cop arrested you.”
“Not true!” roared Peet. “I permitted him to bring me in.”
“Uh huh. Look, this godly facade is getting old. We searched your apartment and found the machine that powers you. Your ability to launch lightning bolts is artificial, not some godly power.”
Hodgens sighed. “The charges against you are serious. You injured twelve police officers and destroyed six police cars. You smashed a bank office, a Taco Bell, and a tanning salon.”
“That because you’re all tools!” screeched Peet. “I’m showing that you’re all pawns serving a wealthy ruling elite!”
“So why did you stop the attack?”
“I am a beneficent god!”
“Why did you stop?” pressed Hodgens.
Peet sagged, then shrugged. “Was my machine still plugged in?”
“I think I forgot to pay the electrical bill.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction writing challenge. Look here to find the original prompt and links to many other stories: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2016/03/13/sunday-photo-fiction-march-13th-2016/