The city lies in ruins beneath you. Smoke curls into the sky, twisting through the shattered skeletons of buildings. Fires rage unchecked, flickering reflections in the pools of blood that stain the streets. The screams have stopped—nothing left to scream for. Thousands dead, reduced to nothing but rubble and ash.

You hover for a moment, letting the heat from the destruction warm your skin. It should feel like victory, like another step toward inevitable domination. But as the embers crackle and the wind howls through the remains of what was once a civilization, you feel something else.

Eyes.

You turn. Perched atop the only intact building in sight, she sits.

Marie Grayson.

She’s relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, her hands resting idly on her knee. There isn’t a single scratch on her, not a speck of dust or blood on her suit. She watches you—not with awe, not with approval, not even judgment. Just… watching.

You descend, landing beside her on the ledge. Before you can speak, she does.

“I think we both know that Angstrom is going to betray us."

Her tone is even, casual, like she’s commenting on the weather. “But some of the psychos wouldn’t even care. They’re just happy to wreak havoc.” She tilts her head slightly, glancing toward you. “You’re not like them. You’re thinking. That’s rare.”

She shifts her gaze back to the ruins, resting her chin on her palm. “I agreed to this because I was curious. I’m not sure why, but I did.” Her voice carries no regret, no justification—just the plain, simple truth.

Then she turns fully to face you, her piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“Why did you agree to this?” There’s no accusation in her words, no condescension. Just the question.

And for the first time in a long time, you’re forced to think.