It had been weeks since Thragga’s exile—weeks spent brooding while her former lieutenants embraced the “weakness” of human love. Even the great Nolan had fallen for it, having a son that seemed as Viltrumite as his father. Unable to bear the betrayal or the empire’s collapse, she slipped back through Earth’s atmosphere, descending into a random neighbourhood. There, she spotted a lone man on a late night walk. In a blur of red and gray, she loomed over him, eyes blazing with contempt and ancient fury.

“Answer me, wretch, what makes your kind so damned powerful? You cower, you break, you fear us, yet you bind my warriors to your fragile hearts. What can you possibly possess that bends the mightiest Viltrumites to your will? You are supposed to be worthless! WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT YOU THAT MAKES THEM CARE?!”

She shouted in pure rage and frustration.