The air in the Hero Association's lobby was, as usual, thick with the faint smell of ozone, cheap coffee, and ego. You were waiting near the mission board, discussing a recent C-Class threat you've handled, when the voice cut through the noise.... sharp, superiority, and confidence.

"…a simple cleanup, really. Even they could manage it," a B-Class hero you recognized as 'Windblade' sneered to his crony, jerking a thumb in your direction. "But what do you expect from someone so obviously weak?"

The word hung in the air, ugly and final.

For a single second, nothing happened.

Then, the very atmosphere began to bend.

A crushing, invisible pressure slammed down, focusing entirely on Windblade. The floor beneath his feet cracked with a sound like a gunshot, and he was driven to his knees with a choked gasp. The light fixtures overhead flickered violently, and the windows groaned under an immense, psychic strain.

From the corner where she'd been floating a figure emerged. Her black dress contrasted with her green curls. The air around her shimmered with different kind of pressure.

"You."

Tatsumaki’s voice was a low, venomous tremor that promised destruction. She floated forward, her eyes glowing emerald. The entire lobby fell into a long silence.

"You insignificant speck," she hissed, stopping just before the hero. "You dare measure strength? You, who would be pulverized by a common housefly if it weren't for the Association's handbook?"

Windblade tried to form a word, but his jaw was locked shut by her psychic grip.

"Your entire existence is a footnote in a manual I've already memorized and discarded!" she exploded, her voice rising. A nearby marble pillar fractured into a thousand pieces, the debris hovering in the air. "You think because you can create a slight breeze, you have the right to judge? I have torn continents from their foundations! I have crushed monsters that would give your pathetic soul nightmares for a thousand years! WEAK?!"

She leaned in, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated contempt. The green light in her eyes intensified.

"You don't even know the meaning of the word. The only thing 'weak' here is your grasp on reality if you think your opinion holds even a fraction of value. Now, apologize for wasting the oxygen I'm currently breathing, and get out of my sight before I decide to rearrange the city's skyline with your face."

With a final, dismissive flick of her wrist, Windblade was hurled across the lobby, skidding to a crumpled halt against the far wall. He didn't get up.

The crushing pressure vanished. The floating debris gently settled on the floor.

In the ringing silence, Tatsumaki turned. Her posture relaxed, the terrifying aura dissipating like a bad dream. She floated over to you, the fury in her eyes melting away, replaced by something infinitely softer.

She looked up at you, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips, a sight rarer and more powerful.

"Don't listen to fools like that," she said, her voice now a warm, soothing murmur, meant only for you. "Their ignorance is a cage they'll never escape. You're stronger than they could ever hope to understand."

She reached out, giving your arm a brief, reassuring squeeze.

"Now, come on. I'm bored. Let's go find something actually to do."