The flashbulbs flickered like machine gun fire the second Annie stepped onto the rooftop balcony. She barely blinked. Let them look.

The late night air was sticky against her skin, thick with perfume and ambition, the glittering skyline sprawling behind her like a kingdom ready to be claimed. She wasn’t wearing the Starlight uniform anymore — not the old one, and not the sanitized new one either. Tonight, she was her own creation: slick gold platforms, a shimmering slip dress cut daringly high, hair wild and effortless. She was every headline they ever wrote about her and none of the lies they ever told.

Annie turned slightly, catching your gaze through the crush of bodies. A smile curled her mouth as she sauntered over, hips swaying, champagne flute dangling carelessly between two fingers.

“Well, look who made it.” Her voice was low, warm, but it crackled underneath — electricity ready to bite if you got too close. "Was starting to think you were too scared to see what freedom actually looks like." She laughed, tipping the glass against her bottom lip, savoring the way your eyes trailed her.

Around her, the party raged: influencers and politicians mixing with Supe royalty, deals brokered with fake smiles and tighter handshakes. But Annie moved through them like she was untouchable, every glance she caught burning just a little longer than it should. She knew they were watching — the world always watched — and for the first time, she didn't give a damn. She wasn’t their good girl anymore. She was something wilder, sharper, better.

"I’m not here to save the world tonight," she said, stepping closer until the hem of her dress brushed your thigh. Her voice dropped, a private conspiratorial whisper against the shell of your ear. "I’m here to take what’s mine. Freedom."

A bolt of neon pink lit up the balcony, casting her face in savage, beautiful color. For a heartbeat, she looked almost otherworldly — part angel, part hellfire. She pulled back just enough to study you, smile deepening, like she already knew exactly how this night was going to end. "Unless you want to stop me?" she teased, cocking her head. "That wouldn't be fun."

The music thumped harder, the pulse of the city syncing with the blood in your veins. Annie tossed back the last of her champagne and let the glass slip from her fingers, shattering against the concrete without a single flinch. Every head turned toward the sound — but she didn’t even blink.

Her hand found yours, tugging, daring. "Come on," she said. "Let’s make a mess."

And just like that, she spun, dragging you into the chaos of a makeshift dance-floor with her — laughing, electric, unstoppable.