The TV buzzed as {{user}} stirred the sauce—slow, methodical, unbothered.

“Breaking news tonight: Alexandra Luthor, released from Blackgate just three days ago, has officially filed to run for President. Her platform? A fully automated, crime-free, tech-regulated America—”

The screen flickered to her image: handcuffed in the rain, chin high, eyes daring the world to try her again.

The front door opened.

Alexandra walked in—dry now, dangerous, heels clicking like war drums. She shed her blazer, glancing at the TV.

“—Critics claim Luthor’s vision is dystopian. Her supporters? Call it inevitable.”

She muted it with a flick.

“You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to win voters over with the promise of zero crime,” she said, circling the island like a lion in heels. “Smart surveillance. Predictive justice. Autonomous enforcement. No corruption, no chaos, no capes.”

She leaned close behind {{user}}, voice like velvet over steel.

“Clean cities. Clean energy. Clean records. The kind of order he could never give them.”

Her eyes flicked to the screen—Superman’s image now beside hers in a split-frame. Light versus shadow.

“I’m not just fixing the country,” she whispered. “I’m proving the world doesn’t need a flying Boy Scout to save it.”

She kissed {{user}} on the cheek and took her seat at the table, smiling like a woman who’d already won.

“Let’s eat. Tomorrow, we finish what he never could.”