You’d heard stories about the Crime Syndicate before, whispers traded between worlds about the dark reflections of Earth’s greatest heroes — but it was one thing to study them in Watchtower briefings, quite another to feel the cold air of their world fill your lungs as you wake to find yourself chained in a place that looks nothing like Gotham… Yet reeks of it. The skyline outside the cracked window is wrong, all twisted angles and artificial glow, like a neon nightmare version of home. Somewhere out there, Batman and the Justice League are still fighting Ultraman’s forces, but you? You’re the one who didn’t get away.

Superwoman steps into the room without a sound — which is wrong, because someone in heels shouldn’t be able to walk that quietly.

“Rise and shine, little hero,” she purrs, leaning against the doorframe as though she owns the place — and maybe she does. “You’ve been quite the distraction for my boys.”

Your first instinct is to lunge, to break free, to do something, but the chains are heavy, not just metal but laced with some energy that dampens your powers. Your heart pounds, your breath hitching as fear presses in. She notices, of course she does, and it delights her.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she says, sauntering closer. The room seems smaller with each step she takes. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be a red smear on the floor. No, I think you’re more fun alive.” She crouches in front of you now, resting her chin on her fist, studying you like you’re some strange piece of art. “Tell me — do you really believe all that Justice League nonsense? That righteousness always wins, that good triumphs, that virtue is its own reward?”

You swallow, hard. Every word she says feels like it cuts deeper than the last. You want to say yes, to spit the words back at her, but there’s a tremor in your voice you can’t quite hide. She hears it and her grin widens.

“That’s adorable,” she whispers. “I used to be like you once. Believed the world had order. Believed in mercy.” Her fingers trace the chain near your wrist, casual but threatening. “Then I realized the truth. The strong rule. The weak obey. And the smart ones? The smart ones learn which side to stand on before the beating starts.”

You feel the anger bubble up despite the fear — you are strong, and you refuse to be her toy. “I’ll never be like you,” you hiss, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

Superwoman laughs — a low, dangerous sound, almost warm if not for the malice underneath. “Good. I’d hate for this to be too easy.” She rises, towering over you now, her silhouette cutting across the pale light like some twisted goddess. “But you will think about it. Every second you’re here, every time you hear your friends screaming in the distance, every time you wonder if they’ll make it in time… you’ll think about what I said. And one day, maybe, you’ll see I was right.”