u/tarnishedkara

The first thing Ah felt was the cold.

It seeped through the floor and into mah bones, makin' every muscle in mah body ache when Ah tried to move. Mah cheek was pressed against somethin' hard and unforgivin', and for a few long seconds, Ah just lay there tryin' to remember why Ah couldn't seem to feel mah legs.

Ah groaned and pushed mahself up onto one elbow.

"Lord..."

Mah voice came out rough as gravel. Mah throat felt like Ah'd swallowed a handful of sand, and mah head was poundin' hard enough to make the room swim around me. Ah reached up, pressin' two fingers against mah temple while Ah tried to get mah bearings.

"Where in the hell am Ah?"

Ah slowly forced mahself upright, leanin' mah back against the wall behind me. That's when Ah saw 'em.

Bars.

Well. That ain't good.

Ah looked around the room again, takin' in every little detail Ah could. No windows. No furniture. Just cold metal walls, strange markings carved into 'em, and a light overhead that hummed quietly like it had been watchin' me sleep.

Ah looked down at mah hands.

Still mine.

Ah flexed mah fingers, then mah wrists. No restraints. No blood. No obvious injuries beyond the soreness that seemed to have settled into every inch of me.

"Think, Rogue."

Ah closed mah eyes and tried to drag the last few memories back up.

Somethin' had happened.

A fight. Pain. Then... nothin'.

How long had Ah been out? A few hours? A day?

Days?

Mah stomach twisted at the thought.

"Well, sugar, ya sure know how to pick yerself some mighty fine vacation spots."

The joke fell flat in the empty room.

Ah opened mah eyes again and stared through the bars.

Whoever had put me here had gone to a whole lotta trouble to make sure Ah couldn't just walk out.

That meant there was a reason.

And if there was one thing Ah knew for certain, it was that Ah wasn't about to sit around waitin' for somebody else to explain it to me.

Ah planted mah palms against the floor and slowly pushed mahself to mah feet, swayin' for a moment before Ah caught mahself against the wall.

"Okay..."

Ah took a slow breath, lookin' around the cell again.

"Let's see what we've got."

Three weeks.

That's how long the world had been like this.

Three weeks since everything went wrong.

I still wasn't sure what I was supposed to call it. Apocalypse sounded dramatic, even if there probably wasn't a better word for it. The news had stopped broadcasting after the first few days. The emergency alerts stopped after that. Cell service disappeared. Then the power.

Now there was mostly just silence.

I walked down what used to be a busy street, stepping around abandoned cars and chunks of concrete. A few buildings were still standing, though most looked like one good gust of wind might finish the job. I kept my backpack close and my eyes moving.

I wasn't looking for anything exciting.

Food would have been nice.

Water would have been better.

Somewhere safe to sleep would have been a miracle.

Instead, I found a botanical garden.

At first, I almost walked past it.

The entrance was half buried beneath debris, the sign hanging crookedly from one remaining bolt. I could barely make out the faded lettering.

BOTANICAL GARDENS

I looked at the shattered glass doors.

"Well... technically, that's a building."

I glanced back toward the street.

Nothing moved.

I sighed and stepped inside.

The place had been hit hard. Most of the glass overhead was gone, leaving the sky visible through the twisted metal framework. Plants had been knocked over, benches had been overturned, and dirt covered almost every inch of the floor.

But there were still plants growing.

That surprised me.

I hadn't seen much that was alive since everything happened.

I wandered farther inside, mostly because there wasn't anything else to do.

Then I noticed the roses.

They were growing through the cracks in the floor.

Red roses.

Perfect.

I crouched beside one, staring at the petals.

"How are you alive?"

I touched one of the leaves.

Nothing happened.

I laughed quietly.

"Guess you're doing better than the rest of us."

I stood and kept walking.

The roses became more numerous the farther I went. They climbed broken pillars and curled around the remains of old garden displays. Eventually, I found myself in what looked like the center of the conservatory.

There was a stone pedestal there.

And on top of it was a single rose.

It was enormous compared to the others, with deep pink petals that almost looked like they had been painted. Unlike everything else in the garden, it didn't look damaged at all.

I frowned.

"Okay. That's weird."

I looked around.

Nothing.

No people.

No monsters.

No strange glowing portal.

Just a flower.

I stepped closer.

I probably should have left it alone.

Instead, I reached out.

My fingers brushed the petals.

The rose suddenly burst into light.

"What the—?!"

I jerked backward, but the flower came apart beneath my hand, dissolving into hundreds of glowing petals.

They didn't fall.

They flew.

Straight toward me.

I barely had time to raise my arms before the entire garden exploded with color.

"Wait, wait, WAIT!"

Vines erupted from the ground.

Roses bloomed across the ruined garden.

Pink and crimson light spiraled around my body, lifting my hair and sending petals whipping through the air.

I stumbled backward.

"What is happening?!"

Something warm pressed against my chest.

The light gathered there.

Then everything went white.

For one impossible moment, there was nothing.

Then I felt the ground beneath my feet.

I opened my eyes.

I was still standing in the garden.

Except something was different.

I looked down.

My clothes were still there.

Just... not the clothes I'd been wearing.

A cropped pink jacket rested over my shoulders, covered in silver studs and sharp little spikes along its edges. Beneath it was a fitted green bodice over a high-collared white blouse, the fabric gathered neatly around my throat. Long pink strips of fabric hung from the jacket and waist, covered in rows of tiny silver studs that caught the light whenever they moved.

I slowly raised my arms.

Black gloves stretched almost to my elbows, their cuffs lined with heavy silver studs.

I looked down at my legs.

Pale stockings covered them, with more rows of silver studs running along the sides. Black boots covered my feet, the heels clicking softly against the stone as I shifted my weight.

I turned slightly.

Something enormous moved behind me.

I froze.

Slowly, I looked over my shoulder.

An enormous rose had bloomed behind me.

Not one flower.

Dozens of enormous petals layered over one another, forming something almost like a giant crimson and magenta bloom growing from my back. Dark, thorn-like spikes protruded between the petals, while long pink ribbons spilled outward and dragged across the ruined floor.

I stared at it.

"...That's new."

I slowly lifted one hand.

A tiny rose bloomed in my palm.

I stared at it.

"...What?"

I turned toward one of the shattered windows.

My reflection stared back at me.

My blonde hair had been gathered into soft curls, with several large pink roses woven across one side of my head. They covered part of my face, while a small silver crown of spikes rose behind them.

And my eyes.

They were pink.

I blinked.

The reflection blinked back.

I touched one of the roses in my hair.

"This isn't my hair."

I looked down at myself again.

Then behind me.

Then back at the reflection.

I slowly turned one way.

Then the other.

Nothing about this made sense.

Behind me, the garden suddenly erupted into bloom.

Thousands of roses opened at once, filling the ruined conservatory with color.

I slowly turned toward them.

The wasteland was still out there.

The broken city.

The empty streets.

Everything that had happened over the last three weeks.

And yet, here in this ruined garden, something was alive.

I looked at the rose still resting in my palm.

It glowed softly against my fingers.

I had absolutely no idea what had just happened to me.

I didn't know what the flower had done.

I didn't know what I was wearing.

And I definitely didn't know what the enormous rose behind me was supposed to be.

But whatever this was...

It had just begun.

I had spent the better part of the last few days doing what I knew how to do.

Searching.

I had gone through every database I could still access. Kree archives. Shi'ar records. Old S.W.O.R.D. channels. Anything that might give me a name, a location, a weakness. Every answer seemed to lead to another question, and every question kept pointing farther away from Earth.

Whatever Emma was doing wasn't something I could just punch my way through.

That realization bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

I floated in the darkness beyond Earth's atmosphere, the planet hanging behind me like a wounded blue eye. The stars stretched endlessly in every direction, and somewhere among them was the answer I was looking for.

The Heart of the Universe.

I'd heard stories about it before. Most of them sounded like the kind of thing people whispered about because they were afraid that saying too much might make it real. A power beyond the usual cosmic hierarchy. Something capable of affecting the fundamental forces of existence itself.

Normally, I would have dismissed it.

Normally.

But normal had stopped being an option the moment I came home.

I pulled up the information I'd managed to piece together, watching fragments of ancient star charts and half-corrupted records flicker across my visor. There was no confirmed location. No reliable coordinates. Just references scattered across civilizations that shouldn't have had any way of knowing about one another.

"Come on..."

I enlarged one of the charts, comparing it against a Kree astronomical database.

"There has to be something here."

Nothing.

I closed my eyes and let the information disappear.

For a moment, there was only the silence of space.

Then I opened my eyes again.

"If you're real..."

My hands slowly curled into fists.

"...I'm going to find you."

I didn't know what I'd have to cross to get there. I didn't know who else was looking for it, or whether the Heart would even allow itself to be found. I didn't know if possessing that kind of power would save Earth or create an entirely different problem.

I only knew what waited for me if I failed.

Something was coming.

Something so far beyond anything Earth had faced that even the people who had once stood together against gods, aliens, monsters, and armies would have been completely outmatched.

And for once, I wasn't looking for a weapon to win a battle.

I was looking for something powerful enough to make the battle possible.

I turned away from Earth and accelerated into the darkness, following the first faint trail of coordinates I'd managed to uncover.

"Let's see what's out there."

Look guys, I know there are some misconceptions going on with me. I promise you that I do not have a portal to an ice cream dimension in my whispers ~no no place~**... Some people just want to be mean and make fun of me because I am not so useful in a fight like others and make up mean stories about me.

Space had always been honest.

Stars didn't pretend to be anything they weren't. Empires rose, empires fell. Suns were born and died without apology. After months spent chasing crises that stretched across sectors most people on Earth would never know existed, seeing that familiar blue marble hanging in the darkness should have felt like finally taking a breath.

Instead...something was wrong.

Even from orbit I could see it.

The lights.

There weren't enough of them.

The sprawling constellations of civilization that should have covered continents were fractured into scattered pinpricks surrounded by oceans of black. Smoke still lingered in places. Entire coastlines looked abandoned. Whatever had happened down there hadn't been a battle. It had been an ending.

"...What the fuck happened?"

The words left my mouth before I realized I'd spoken them.

No distress calls reached me. No S.H.I.E.L.D. channels. No Avengers priority frequency. Just static...and the quiet hum of my own flight as I broke through the atmosphere.

I didn't stop to investigate the cities below. There'd be time for answers later. Right now there was only one place to start.

Avengers Tower.

The skyline around Manhattan looked wounded. Buildings stood empty, others had collapsed entirely, nature already beginning to reclaim streets that should have been overflowing with traffic. I descended through the silence and touched down on the roof of the tower with barely a sound.

It didn't feel like home anymore.

The familiar landing pad was weathered. Dust had settled where Quinjets should have been parked. The tower itself stood, but only just. It looked less like the headquarters of Earth's Mightiest Heroes and more like a monument that everyone had forgotten to bury.

"...Guys?"

No answer.

The main systems were running on emergency power. Hallways that should have echoed with conversation were empty, save for abandoned equipment and the faint flicker of failing lights. I moved from room to room, finding signs that people had been here...and had left in a hurry.

The briefing room.

The labs.

Living quarters.

Nothing.

Some rooms had clearly been occupied recently. Others looked untouched for months. Files were missing. Equipment had been taken. Personal belongings had been left behind as though whoever owned them had every intention of coming back.

I checked the roster.

Too many names were unaccounted for.

Some had no recorded location. Others simply stopped updating altogether. There were no explanations waiting for me, no mission reports, no neatly organized debrief that could explain how Earth had become whatever this was.

Only questions.

I stood in the center of the operations room, staring at the holographic globe still rotating lazily despite the world it represented having fallen apart.

"...Alright."

I let out a slow breath before clenching my fists.

"If nobody's here to tell me what happened..."

Golden light began to dance across my hands, illuminating the darkened room.

"...then I'll find out myself."

Another day. Another road.

The highway stretched endlessly ahead, littered with abandoned cars and scattered debris that no one had bothered to clear. The world hadn't fallen apart long enough for nature to reclaim it, but it had been just enough time for silence to settle into every empty street and broken window.

I walked without much purpose, boots scraping against the cracked pavement while the wind carried dust between rusting vehicles. Every so often I'd stop, scanning the horizon for movement that never came.

My wings shifted beneath my jacket as I adjusted the straps of my backpack. The halo above my head flickered softly, casting pale gold across the road before fading back into the afternoon light.

«Здесь есть кто-нибудь ещё?» (Is there anyone else here?)

The question drifted into the empty landscape before disappearing with the wind.

Nothing.

Not a voice.

Not footsteps.

Just the sounds of animals.

I let out a slow breath and looked down at the black gloves covering my hands.

«Наверное... так безопаснее.» (...Maybe it's safer this way.)

The words carried more resignation than comfort.

If I found someone, I'd have to keep my distance. If I didn't... I'd keep walking.

So that's what I did.

One foot in front of the other.

Another forgotten mile disappearing behind me as the search for... something... continued.

The binder stayed closed beneath my hand.

I wanted there to be something. A misspelled name. An old intake form tucked between the pages. Anything that would let me believe this had a simple explanation.

There wasn't.

I thanked the volunteer and carried on with the rest of my shift, though I couldn't honestly say I was paying attention anymore. I washed dishes. Wiped down tables. Locked the pantry. Every task was familiar enough that I could do it without thinking.

Maybe that was for the best.

When the last guest had settled in for the night and the lights in the dining hall had been dimmed, I found myself standing in front of the window where Harold always liked to sit.

Empty.

It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did.

People came and went from shelters every day. Some found apartments. Some reunited with family. Some simply disappeared before anyone could help them.

But someone always remembered them.

Someone always asked where they'd gone.

Tonight, I was the only one asking.

I reached down and ran my fingers beneath the edge of the table, more out of habit than purpose.

Something caught against my fingertips.

I knelt down and looked underneath.

A small shape had been taped to the underside of the table.

Carefully peeling it free, I turned it over in my hand.

It was an old wooden carving of an eagle.

I knew it immediately.

Harold had spent weeks carving it with a pocketknife he'd kept sharper than most kitchen knives. He'd laughed when I asked if he planned to sell it.

"No," he'd told me. "It's for someone worth remembering."

I hadn't understood what he meant then.

Now I simply stared at the carving resting in my palm.

It was real.

Which meant Harold had been real.

No matter what anyone else believed.

If everyone else had forgotten him... then maybe they had stopped looking.

I hadn't.

Pulling my jacket a little tighter, I started walking the route I knew by heart.

"I'm coming, Harold."

Whether he'd wandered off... or whether something far stranger had happened... I wasn't going to stop until I found him.

Silence had settled over the wasteland in the weeks since everything fell apart.

My sneakers crunched across cracked asphalt as I wandered through what used to be a town. Rusted cars sat abandoned in the middle of empty streets, windows blown out and storefronts picked clean. Nature hadn't had nearly enough time to reclaim the place, but it had already begun creeping through broken sidewalks and shattered foundations.

I didn't really have a destination. Just a direction.

The feathers trailing behind me caught the breeze before dissolving into specks of golden light. My wings stayed folded around the disheveled suit jacket impossible to hide but what choice was there. Above me, my halo gave off a faint, tired glow, flickering every so often as though it were just as exhausted as I was.

"Someone's gotta still be out here..."

The words disappeared into the empty streets without an answer.

Maybe I was looking for survivors.

Maybe I was hoping I wouldn't find any.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. Every stranger was another reminder to keep my gloves on. Another chance for one careless mistake to steal something that could never be given back.

So I kept walking.

One empty road after another, hoping the next horizon held something worth stopping for.

(anyone can interact)

I had always believed that the smallest acts of kindness were often the ones that mattered most.

Stopping a threat from destroying a city was important. Facing gods and monsters was important. But sitting with someone who felt like the world had forgotten them... that mattered too.

That was why I kept coming back to the shelter.

There was no ceremony to it. No cameras. No need for anyone to know Wonder Woman was there. I was simply Diana, carrying boxes of donations, serving food, and listening to the stories people shared when they finally had someone willing to hear them.

I had gotten to know many of the people who came through those doors.

Including Harold.

He was quiet. He never asked for much, always sitting at the same table near the window with his old coat and worn cane beside him. Most nights we only exchanged a few words, but I remembered those words. I remembered his stories, his jokes, and the way he always insisted that I had more important things to worry about than an old man at a shelter.

I disagreed with him every time.

Tonight, I noticed the empty chair before I noticed anything else.

The meal I had prepared for him sat untouched.

"Harold?"

I glanced around the room, expecting him to answer from somewhere nearby. Perhaps he had stepped outside. Perhaps he was speaking with one of the other volunteers.

But nobody moved.

Nobody looked concerned.

Nobody knew who I was talking about.

"Who is Harold?" one of the volunteers asked.

For a moment, I simply stared at them.

"The gentleman who sits there," I replied, pointing toward the table. "He has been staying here for some time."

The volunteer looked toward the empty chair, then back at me.

"Diana... no one has been sitting there."

I did not argue. I did not raise my voice.

I simply looked back at the table.

Because I knew what I remembered.

I remembered the conversations. I remembered his kindness. I remembered the way he always thanked me like I was the one who had done him a favor.

And now there was only an empty chair.

But I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

Harold had existed.

And if the world had forgotten him, then I would find out why.

I was curious about our little marooned patient, as it was her vitals seemed to be normal, we were just waiting for her to wake up. I had salvaged what I could from the floating metal corpse to patch up the ship which was at least one good thing that came out of this, though I am also sure that Mantis could use better company than me.

The Milano had made a noise somewhere between a dying whale and a blender full of bolts before the engines finally surrendered to their own bad decisions. Every warning light on the console had decided this was its moment to shine, bathing the cockpit in angry reds and oranges while smoke curled lazily from beneath the dashboard. I slapped one of the panels with the confidence of a man who'd fixed exactly zero spaceships that way before. The alarm changed pitch. "See?" I called over my shoulder. "Progress."

Mantis didn't sound convinced.

"Peter... I think it is making more dying noises."

"That's because she's expressing herself." I leaned back in the pilot's seat, watching our momentum bleed away as the stars slowed from streaks to pinpricks. "Besides, if she was actually dying she'd stop complaining." A glance at the scanner made the grin fade from my face. There was something out there. Big. Drifting. Metallic. No transponder. No life signs. Just... sitting in the void like somebody had forgotten to throw away the galaxy's biggest toaster. I keyed the display, enlarging the image until a massive humanoid silhouette rotated into view. Long limbs. Heavy armor plating. A head that looked just unsettling enough to make my instincts start filing complaints.

"...Well that's new."

I eased the Milano closer, curiosity overriding what little common sense I had left. Whatever this thing was, somebody had spent an absurd amount of money building it. If it was dead, maybe its power cells still worked. Maybe its alloys were worth something. Maybe there were enough spare parts to keep my ship from becoming a permanent monument to poor maintenance. I grabbed my helmet and blasters, already heading toward the cargo ramp with that familiar grin creeping back across my face. "Come on, Mantis. Best case, we find enough salvage to get us flying again. Worst case..." I looked back at the towering machine floating silently outside the viewport. "...we figure out what the hell that thing is."

The cuckoos gathered the ones that followed Sinister, I knew that we were making headway with freeing EEs minions. But how long was that going to last before she subjugated others. Once everyone had been gathered the five stood in unison at one end of the table.

"We have a plan to stop this. At one point before all of this happened, before she was killed by Pixie. She told us that Mr. Stark had been working on a means of time travel. So depending on how far along he was, along with Gwen Pooles aid we might be able to go back into the past and stop her before she gains power."

(interactable by the X-Sinisters only)

We needed to start getting people out from under Emmas control, and I knew of one specific person that she needed to help. I knew I had clones out there, and much like Kate I had to protect them as well. So with her help we went out to try and find Gabby.

Power.

It came rushin' back all at once.

The familiar strength beneath mah skin. The weightlessness. The certainty.

Ah closed mah eyes and breathed for what felt like the first time in months.

Finally...

Ah wasn't broken anymore.

Mah thoughts drifted to his hand still clutched in mine . The heat overwhelming as if burning into mah soul, the skin blackening, Mephisto's essence burned into it like it had always belonged there.

"So this is the price."

Ah looked at mah hands, flexin' mah fingers, the blackening fading as he had.

No tremblin'.

No weakness.

No fear that Ah'd fail the next person who needed me.

A small smile crossed mah face.

"It had ta be done."

The words came easier the second time.

"It wasn't about power."

It was about stability.

About knowin' Ah could protect people again.

About never havin' ta watch somebody get hurt because Ah wasn't strong enough.

Find Elektra.

Help her.

Resurrect Kwannon.

Mah jaw tightened.

"If this is what Ah gotta do ta keep bein' Rogue..."

"Then so be it."

People would judge me. Others would call it a mistake. Remy would hate what Ah'd done.

Maybe they were right.

But none of them had been there when Ah couldn't lift a beam.

When Ah couldn't fly.

When Ah looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the woman starin' back.

Ah had been.

And Ah'd never let myself become that helpless again.

The alarms had long since gone silent.

There weren't any training simulations left.

Just me.

Again.

Ah braced mahself beneath a slab of reinforced steel that used ta feel lighter than air. Every muscle in mah body screamed as Ah pushed with everythin' Ah had.

The metal didn't move.

“Please...”

Mah voice cracked.

Ah pushed harder.

Veins stood out in mah arms. Mah hands shook so violently they slipped from the edge, and the slab crashed back to the floor with a deafening boom.

The sound echoed through the empty Danger Room.

“So get up.”

Ah staggered back to mah feet.

“Again.”

Ah ran.

Jumped.

Waited.

For one second.

One inch.

One flicker of flight.

Instead, gravity dragged me back down. Mah knees slammed into the floor so hard the pain shot straight through mah legs, but Ah barely felt it anymore.

“Again.”

Ah lurched toward the weight rack, grabbed the bar, and pulled until every tendon in mah arms felt ready ta snap.

Nothin'.

The bar never left the rack.

A strangled sound escaped mah throat.

Half growl.

Half sob.

“WHY?!”

Mah fist slammed into the mirror.

Glass exploded across the room.

Blood ran down mah knuckles, but all Ah could see was the woman starin' back at me through the shattered reflection.

She looked small.

Weak.

Scared.

“Come back...” Ah whispered to the pieces of mahself scattered across the broken glass. “Please... Ah'll do anythin'. Ah'll take the pain back. Ah'll take Carol's memories, Sauron, every nightmare... Ah don't care anymore.”

Mah shoulders finally gave out.

Ah slid down the wall, surrounded by broken glass, buryin' mah face in bloodied hands.

The sob that escaped me wasn't quiet anymore.

It ripped straight through mah chest.

“Ah don't wanna be this...” Ah cried, words breakin' apart between breaths. “Ah don't know how ta be anythin' else.”

And for the first time since the powers started fading...

Ah stopped trying to stand back up.

Mah hands curled into fists until they shook so hard Ah couldn't tell if it was anger or fear anymore.

“Come back...” Ah whispered. “Please...”

The words echoed through the empty Danger Room.

There wasn't anybody left ta hear 'em.

Mah knees gave out beneath me, and Ah didn't even try ta catch mahself. Ah just sat there, surrounded by shattered glass and twisted steel, breath comin' in broken gasps.

“Ah'll do anythin'...” Ah choked out. “Anything.”

Silence answered.

For the first time in mah life, brute strength couldn't fix it. There wasn't a wall ta punch through. There wasn't a weight ta lift. There wasn't an enemy ta fight.

It was just me.

And the empty space where mah powers used ta be.

A sob escaped before Ah could stop it, and then another, until Ah couldn't hold any of it back anymore.

“Who am Ah now...?”

The climb was almost insulting.

Forty-seven stories of reinforced glass, motion sensors, private security, and a state-of-the-art alarm system... and the balcony door still wasn't locked.

Money really does make people lazy.

I slipped inside without so much as disturbing the curtains, taking a slow look around the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Gotham like the city existed solely for the man who lived here. Imported marble. Sculptures that cost more than entire apartment buildings in the Narrows. A wine collection hidden behind biometric glass.

Compensating was expensive these days.

I wandered through the place with my hands behind my back, like I was touring a museum. Every room screamed the same thing.

Look how important I am.

My favorite.

The safe wasn't hard to find. Men like him always put it somewhere dramatic. Behind a painting. Inside the study. Hidden just enough that they could brag about it after their third glass of scotch.

Three minutes later, the vault door eased open.

Stacks of cash.

Bearer bonds.

Gold watches.

A handful of passports under names that definitely weren't his.

I didn't touch a single one.

Instead, I reached into my pack and smiled.

The diamond cufflinks went into the freezer beside a pint of vanilla ice cream.

The passports found a new home alphabetized on the bookshelf between classic literature he'd clearly never opened.

His custom-tailored suits? Every hanger turned backward.

The keys to his collection of imported cars were frozen inside a block of ice in the kitchen sink.

I swapped every expensive bottle in his liquor cabinet with the cheap stuff hidden in the pantry. He'd never notice until he tried impressing someone who actually knew the difference.

His luxury watches were all set exactly seventeen minutes apart. Not enough to catch immediately. Just enough to drive him completely insane.

The masterpiece came last.

I emptied the safe.

Not onto the floor.

Onto his bed.

Cash stacked into neat little towers. Jewelry arranged with perfect symmetry. Documents fanned out like playing cards.

In the center, I placed a single rubber mouse wearing a tiny gold crown.

Art deserves a signature.

By the time I reached the balcony again, I could already hear security racing upstairs after finally realizing someone had tripped a silent alarm.

I looked back one last time.

Nothing was stolen.

Nothing was broken.

Nothing of value had actually been lost.

Except his pride.

I couldn't help but grin beneath my goggles.

"Next time," I purred to the empty apartment, "lock the balcony."

Then I stepped backward off the edge.

The grapnel caught a heartbeat later, carrying me into Gotham's skyline while somewhere behind me, one very powerful man was about to discover the most expensive prank of his life.

The mission should've been routine.

Get in. Get the civilians out. Get home.

A year ago, Ah would've flown straight through the crumbling wall without thinkin'. Lifted the collapsed beam like it weighed nothin'. Shrugged off whatever got thrown at me.

Instead, Ah hit the ground hard.

The beam didn't move.

Not even an inch.

“C'mon...” Ah grunted through clenched teeth, every muscle strainin' as the steel dug into mah palms. “Move...”

It didn't.

Behind me, people were still trapped.

Someone called mah name.

Then the explosion came.

The blast threw me across the room, and for the first time in years...

It hurt.

Not just a little.

Every bone in mah body screamed as Ah crashed through broken concrete, the air ripped from mah lungs. Ah tried ta stand, but mah legs buckled underneath me before Ah even made it halfway.

“Rogue, stay down!”

The words cut deeper than the pain.

Ah could only watch as the rest of the team rushed past me, lifting what Ah couldn't, shielding people Ah should've been protectin', finishing the mission without me.

All Ah could do was sit there in the dust, blood tricklin' from a cut on mah forehead that would've healed in seconds before.

Mah hands curled into fists.

Not outta anger.

Outta shame.

When it was over, Ah couldn't even bring mahself ta meet anybody's eyes.

“Ah'm sorry...” Ah whispered, more to mahself than anyone else.

“Ah just... couldn't do it.”

Athena's voice faded behind me as the doors closed.

I waited for the sound of them opening again. For someone to explain why any of this was necessary. Instead there was only another hallway stretching ahead, quiet enough that the scrape of my boots against the marble seemed almost intrusive.

The first trial had left its mark. My shoulders ached beneath my armor, and every breath carried the weight of questions Athena had never intended me to answer. I had stopped trying to understand what the gods wanted from me long ago. They spoke of wisdom, justice, sacrifice. The words changed from century to century, but the lesson was always the same.

Prove yourself.

Again.

I smiled to myself, though there wasn't much humor in it.

"You would think saving Olympus a few times would count for something."

No one answered.

Of course they didn't.

The corridor grew darker the farther I walked, though not in any natural way. It was as if the light simply decided it had gone far enough. The walls disappeared first, then the ceiling, until even the marble beneath my feet became impossible to see. I should have been uneasy. Instead I found myself almost grateful for the silence. After Athena's trial, it was the first moment I had been allowed to think.

Then I smelled woodsmoke.

It was faint enough that I almost missed it, but it didn't belong here. Not in the polished halls of Olympus.

A warm light flickered somewhere ahead.

As I drew closer, the darkness gave way to a modest temple gathered around a single hearth. There were no great statues watching from above, no gilded throne waiting for another Olympian to pass judgment. Someone had built this place to be lived in rather than admired. It reminded me less of Olympus than it did of home.

The fire burned low, steady and unhurried.

I found myself bowing my head before I realized I'd done it.

"Hestia."

Some habits never leave us. Every meal on Themyscira began by honoring her flame. Every child learned that before there could be warriors or queens, there had to be a home worth defending.

"I am glad someone still remembers."

The voice came from my left.

Apollo stepped into the firelight with the easy confidence of someone entering his own home. Gold caught in the folds of his robes, and for a heartbeat I understood why artists always struggled to paint him. He didn't shine because he demanded attention. He shone because the light seemed reluctant to leave him.

"I expected Zeus," I admitted.

"He would have been louder."

That earned the smallest laugh from me.

"So he would."

It felt strange. After Athena's trial I hadn't expected conversation. I certainly hadn't expected one of the gods to make a joke, even a dry one.

Then something above the hearth caught my eye.

Gold.

It swayed gently over the fire.

I reached for my hip before I had fully realized what I was looking at.

Nothing.

My hand stopped against empty leather.

The Lasso of Truth hung above Hestia's flame as though it had been placed there long before I arrived.

"I don't remember taking it off."

"You didn't."

Apollo said it simply, without triumph or apology.

I looked back at him.

"You took it."

"I borrowed it."

"Without asking."

"I knew you would have said no."

I sighed.

"That isn't usually how borrowing works."

For the first time, Apollo smiled. Not the polished smile of a god speaking to a mortal, but something quieter, almost amused.

"No."

"I suppose it isn't."

The silence that followed felt different from the one in Athena's arena. It wasn't waiting for violence. It was waiting for honesty.

Apollo looked toward the lasso.

"You've carried that with you for a very long time."

"I have."

"Long enough that I wonder if you've forgotten where its power ends...and yours begins."

Before I could answer, another voice carried through the temple.

"Diana."

I knew that voice before I turned.

My mother.

A second followed.

Steve.

Then another.

Donna.

Barbara.

Cassie.

Artemis.

One after another, the people who had shaped my life began stepping out of the shadows, each wearing the expression I remembered best.

Apollo stepped back from the hearth, leaving me alone with the fire.

"The first trial asked whether your compassion could survive impossible choices," he said quietly.

"This one asks something much harder."

He looked toward the people gathering around us.

"It asks whether you still know yourself when no one is asking about anyone else."