It was only a few days until the revolution would ignite, until everything would change. Vicki was steady, confident - she was ready. She had a fire burning inside her, a sense of purpose that came from years of pain, betrayal, and the weight of her parents' death. This was her moment to finally exact the revenge she'd been dreaming of. Everyone who’d been hurt by Thomas Wayne and the corrupt elite, she’d get justice for them. You, though... her right-hand, the one who knew the plan inside and out, seemed far from ready.

In the dimly lit hideout, you were slamming a pillow repeatedly, your frustration making each punch harder than the last. The muffled thuds were almost satisfying, though they did little to ease the storm swirling in your chest. At least it was a pillow and no one else in the group. Not that they’d care much about your stress, but Vicki... Vicki would notice.

And sure enough, she did.

Vicki’s footsteps were quick, calculated as she entered the room, her sharp gaze falling on the mess you were making. The pillow was starting to give way, its stuffing spilling across the floor in disarray. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the edges of her lips turning down in a faint, frustrated frown.

"Please stop," she said, her voice a mix of irritation and concern. The words weren’t harsh, but the way she said them - thinly veiled frustration just beneath the surface - was enough to stop you in your tracks.