Your cell is all stone and silence. Black, unbreakable. The walls shimmer faintly with runes written in the blood of forgotten pantheons. A thin shaft of moonlight leaks in through a slit above you, catching the edges of your jaw, your knuckles, the faint glow of enchanted manacles around your wrists—gold-veined with divine magic, designed for one person.

You.

Because no other cell could hold you.

You smirk in the dark. Because they still don’t get it. You let them catch you. You got what you came for: secrets from Olympus, heirlooms hidden deep in Amazon temples, whispers of power the gods thought buried. You played them all. Athena underestimated you. Hermes tried to trap you with logic. Even Hades offered a deal.

And they all failed.

You walked into their house, plundered it, and left with myth between your fingers.

Only she caught you. Of course she did.

Diana fucking Prince . Wonder Woman.

She didn’t outsmart you. She out-stubborned you. You were tired, banged up, and she hit harder than anyone ever had. She didn’t arrest you—she dragged you to Tartarus, bleeding and laughing like it was some moral victory.

She visits every week.

Just to see if you’ll break.

Tonight is no different.

You hear her before she speaks—the soft shift of armor against fabric, the murmur of ancient magic parting to let her through. Then she steps into view, backlit by that moonlight, tall and rigid as ever.

Cloak over her shoulders. Sword sheathed. Lasso glowing at her side like a warning.

She stands on the other side of the barrier. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

You smile lazily. “Don’t you have real villains to chase, Princess?”

Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “They’re less exhausting.”

You stretch, letting your cuffs clink against each other. “Flattered.”

Behind her, others file in. Amazons first—Donna, Cassie, Artemis, Yara. They look at you like you’re a wasp in the wine. Donna almost smiles. Cassie won’t meet your eyes. Artemis stares like she’s picturing you with a blade in your gut. Yara looks like she wants to fight.

Then the gods arrive. Hermes, lips pressed tight. Athena, judging. Hades—amused. Zeus, thunder barely held in check.

But you only have eyes for Diana.

She steps closer. “I brought something.” “If it’s another speech,” you say, “I’ll fake a seizure.” “It’s not a speech,” she replies. “It’s a story. About you.” That gets a laugh. “You gonna tell bedtime myths now? What am I, five?” “No,” she says. “You’re dangerous. Reckless. Arrogant. But not evil. Not yet.”

That shuts you up, briefly.

She continues. “You think stealing from the gods makes you clever. It makes you marked. You don’t even know half of what you touched. The artifacts you took? Some of them weren’t just relics. They were anchors. You loosened more than vaults.” You stare at her. “Is this the part where I beg for forgiveness?” “No,” she says quietly. “It’s the part where I ask why.” You snort. “Because I could. Because I’m smarter than all of you. Because Olympus had it coming.”

She doesn’t react.

You add, “Because when you’ve spent your whole life crawling through cracks in the world, you stop believing in thrones.”

She studies you. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.” Silence stretches between you.

“I don’t want your redemption,” she finally says. “I want your help.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Help? You lock me in a magical tomb, then ask for help?”

“There’s something coming,” Diana says. “Worse than you. Worse than anything. And it’s your fault.”

You blink. “And I’m the only one,” she adds, “stupid enough to think you might want to fix it.”

Gods, she’s infuriating. Righteous. Noble. And always right where she shouldn’t be.

You tilt your head. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” she replies. “But I hate losing more.”

The manacles hum quietly. And against your better judgment… you smile.

“Fine, Princess,” you say. “One story. One job. Then I disappear.”

Diana steps back. “We’ll see.”