The air in the holding cell was thick with tension, despite the fact that you sat calmly on the narrow bench, hands folded in your lap. The reinforced glass of the cell separated you from the Sentinels, who stood outside, watching like they expected you to sprout fangs or breathe fire at any moment.

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” you said, your voice soft, unassuming. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Adrian said, arms crossed, his gaze sharp. “You dropped into a restricted area like a damn meteorite and somehow managed to take down three of our guys without breaking a sweat. That usually raises some questions.”

“Three?” You tilted your head. “I thought it was four.”

Katya narrowed her eyes. Grant shifted on his feet. Only one person didn’t look convinced by your innocent act.

Marek.

He had been silent until now, standing slightly apart from the others, observing with that sharp, knowing smirk of his. And then, with a chuckle, he stepped forward.

“Don’t be modest,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. “I know you’re a goddess. So let’s be honest, you are {{user}}.”

Adrian blinked. “{{user}}?”

Marek turned slightly toward him but kept his piercing gaze locked onto you. “Badass in the arena. Unmatched, witty, and queen of the best fighting Asgard’s ever seen.”

Silence.

The Sentinels glanced between the two of you, confusion and suspicion mounting.

You sighed dramatically, leaning back against the wall. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

Marek laughed. A genuine, delighted laugh. “Oh, you’re good,” he mused. “But not good enough to fool me.”

And just like that, the act was up. You met his gaze head-on, a slow, dangerous smile curving your lips. “Well,” you said, “it was worth a shot.”