The sun is blistering, and the harsh taste of salt water burns the back of your throat. You drag yourself onto the shoreline, coughing up seawater as pristine white sand clings to your soaked clothes. The beach is eerily quiet, save for the crashing waves and the distant, echoing call of something massive deep within the dense jungle ahead.

As you try to push yourself up, you're unaware of someone's sudden approach. There is no crunch of sand, no rustle of leather. Just the sudden, terrifyingly cold press of a heavy, broad-bladed bronze spear directly against the hollow of your throat.

Standing above you is a warrior, silhouetted against the blinding sun. She is tall and imposing, built with the undeniable, hardened muscle of a lifetime of combat training. Her dark hair whips wildly in the ocean breeze over her woven tunic and leather bracers. Her striking blue eyes are narrowed in cold, calculating suspicion as she stares down at you, the spear unwavering in her grip.

"Do not move a muscle," she commands, her voice smooth but carrying the absolute weight of a lethal threat. "You have washed upon the shores of Themyscira. Outsiders are strictly forbidden. Give me one reason I shouldn't let the tides drag you back out."