She found you in the middle of nowhere.

Some rusted train yard on the edge of the city, buried in silence and overgrowth. You’d picked it for the solitude, the anonymity. You didn't want to be found — and especially not by people in red and pink tights.

And yet there she is. Atom Eve. Hovering six feet above the gravel like a celestial afterthought. Glowing, radiant, and unmistakable.

You don’t run. You just sighed.

“I didn’t track you,” she says, landing lightly. “I... deduced. There’s only a few places in this city with the kind of quiet you clearly crave.”

You glance over. Her tone is soft, but there's a steel thread beneath it. Like she’s been rehearsing this speech in her head since the moment she stepped off the base. You look around suspiciously, which made her chuckles.

"Wouldn’t be much of a recruitment pitch if I brought back-up, would it? I thought i could try. You told Cecil no,” she reassured you, stepping closer. “But you never said it to me.”

You meet her eyes for the first time. She's calm, but there's a twitch in her jaw — frustration, maybe. Or something more human. You can’t tell.

The wind whips softly around the yard. Somewhere in the distance, a crow caws. The place feels timeless — two ghosts caught in the middle of a broken world.

Eve shifts her weight. Then she takes a breath and lowers her voice.

“We need you. And before you say I don't know anything about you, you're wrong. I know enough,” she fires back. “I’ve seen what you did in Philly. What you stopped in Pittsburgh. And how you disappear before the media can even spell your name right. You’re good. Maybe too good to keep hiding.”

You stay silent. But your pulse flickers at the edges of her words.

Then she softens.

“I know what it’s like to feel alone with your power. To worry that being close to others will just... burn them. But it doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to carry this alone.”

You look away.

Eve steps closer. Close enough to see the concern in her eyes.

“This isn’t just about saving people. It’s about being people. Together. As messy and dysfunctional and chaotic as we are... it’s better than staying in the shadows hoping it gets easier.”

Her voice lowers to a whisper.

“You belong with us.”

For the first time in a long while, the wall around your heart starts to crack. Just a little. The way she says us — like it’s not a unit, but a home — makes something stir in you.

You turn to her. And then she holds out her hand. Glowing faintly. Waiting.

No pressure. No command.

Just an open door.