Silas lounged in the shadows of his dimly lit mansion, the silence only broken by the occasional crackle of an electric fire burning in the hearth. He’d long ago abandoned the need for the flashy grandeur of his former life, after all, power was best savored in solitude, away from the prying eyes of the city.

That’s when he heard it. The unmistakable sound of heavy boots on stone, the faintest hum of energy in the air. He had been expecting it. Wonder had never been good at letting go of their past, despite everything. Silas smirked, his fingers tapping the armrest of his chair, the echo of the rhythmic motion almost mocking.

The door to his study creaked open, and in stepped the figure he’d once called a friend—Wonder, draped in their iconic armor, glowing like some naive beacon of righteousness. His lips curled in amusement. This was who had the audacity to come to him for help?

Wonder stood there, posture rigid, their usual air of confidence now laced with desperation. They spoke, their voice even, but Silas could see the cracks. He could always see the cracks. They spoke of an enemy who threatened the city—his city—and worse, threatened Silas himself.

Silas threw his head back and laughed. The sound filled the room like thunder, rattling the glass windows. "You dare come to me for help?" His words were laced with derision, dripping from his tongue like venom. "After everything, after you turned your back on me for your precious sense of justice?"

Wonder’s expression faltered for a moment, but Silas was already enjoying their discomfort.

"Do you think I care about Verinta or its pitiful citizens?" He sneered, his eyes narrowing. "No, no... that’s your problem, isn’t it? You still believe in the illusion of saving them. I left that behind a long time ago. And yet, here you are, asking for the help of a villain." The air in the room thickened, the tension palpable. Silas let his words sink in, relishing each one, each twist of their old bond that had unraveled.