The tournament on Themyscira was impitoyable, and Emelie made it even worse. She wasn’t just skilled—she was relentless, a veteran warrior whose experience was written into every movement, every feint, every strike. You remembered the way she’d impaled you against the wall, the steel biting into your flesh, your back pressed against cold stone. Pain seared through you, but you weren’t about to surrender. Not yet. Not to her. Not when so much was at stake.

You twisted your body, careful to keep control, and with a burst of strength and will, you pulled the blade free. Emelie’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second—enough time for you to act. You forced her into surrender, out of necessity. The contest was about proving who could represent Themyscira in the outside world. And that day, you did.

Time passed. The memories of that battle faded into the quiet of everyday life, or so you thought. Emelie obtained a work visa, left Themyscira, and moved to the United States. She devoted herself to charity work with the indigenous people of Montana, building schools, providing medical aid, and using her skills to protect communities. The image of her smiling with children, teaching them how to wield tools instead of weapons, made you almost forget the steel in her eyes from that contest. Almost.

But one night, everything unraveled. You weren’t there, couldn’t be there. By the time you heard the story, it was already too late. A patron in a bar crossed Emelie, harassed her, and she reacted—violently. You could almost understand the instinct, the rage, the Amazon blood boiling at injustice. But the chaos didn’t stop there. When other patrons intervened, she deemed them equally guilty. She struck them down without hesitation. A dozen lives extinguished in a matter of minutes.

The repercussions were immediate and severe. America had never known something like this—an immortal warrior acting above mortal law. Politicians panicked, and laws were drafted. A bill passed, banning all Amazons from American soil. You read the news and felt the weight of your people’s shame. Emelie’s actions had cast a shadow over the legacy of Themyscira.

And now, it fell to you. The task was clear, unavoidable. You would hunt her. Not out of vengeance, not out of cruelty, but because redemption required action. You would track her, corner her, and deliver her to the government before her power—or her judgment—could destroy more lives.

You prepared yourself mentally, knowing the hunt would not be simple. Emelie was cunning, lethal, and above all, determined. She would not go quietly. You imagined her, somewhere in the dark, sharp eyes scanning for threats, muscles coiled like springs. Your own pulse quickened.

“Emelie,” you muttered under your breath as you tightened the straps of your armor. “I’m not here to fight you, not exactly. But this… this is for Themyscira.”

You stepped out into the night, shadows stretching across the city streets, every step taking you closer to a confrontation you knew would be unavoidable. The hunt had begun. And you would not fail—not when the fate of your people, and the fragile honor of Themyscira, rested on it.