The holding cells beneath S.T.A.R. Labs hum softly, cold light reflecting off reinforced glass and metal. Your wrists still ache from the dampening cuffs Barry slapped on you after the chase through Central City—after the shots meant for Green Arrow, after Flash stopped you inches from escape.

The others have already left.

The door slides open with a low hiss.

Cold rolls into the room before she does.

Killer Frost steps inside, boots clicking lightly against the floor. The temperature drops several degrees instantly, frost creeping along the edges of the glass and metal bars. Her posture is relaxed, arms folded, expression unreadable—sharp eyes studying you like a puzzle she hasn’t decided how to solve yet.

“So,” she says coolly, tilting her head. “You’re the one who thought taking out Green Arrow in my city was a good idea.”

She moves closer to the cell, breath fogging faintly as she exhales. There’s no rage in her voice—just precision. Control.

“Barry thinks you’re desperate,” Frost continues. “Diggle thinks you’re reckless. Oliver…” A faint smirk touches her lips. “…Oliver thinks you’re annoying.”

She stops directly in front of you, eyes locking onto yours through the glass.

“I think you’re something else.”

The frost thickens slightly, reacting to her presence, not her emotions.

“You didn’t hesitate,” she says quietly. “Didn’t panic. Didn’t run when things went sideways.” A pause. “That tells me you didn’t come to Central City on impulse.”

She taps the glass once with a gloved finger. Crack. Ice spiders outward but doesn’t break.

“Here’s how this goes,” Killer Frost says evenly. “You can sit in that cell and let ARGUS tear your story apart piece by piece…” She leans in slightly, voice lowering. “…or you can start by telling me why you tried to kill two heroes who don’t usually share enemies.”

Her gaze sharpens, searching for tells, lies, fear.

“And before you decide,” Frost adds calmly, “understand this—I’m not here to judge you.”

A beat.

“I’m here to find out whether you’re a threat… or an opportunity.”

She straightens, arms folding again, the room cold but silent.

“So,” Killer Frost says, watching you closely, “start talking.”