I was now sitting politely in Selene’s home. It was a stunning penthouse suite perched high above Halcyon City, with floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping around every corner, offering breathtaking views of the skyline glittering below. The kind of place that made my modest apartment feel like a shoebox. But the real kicker? Every room without a window was crammed with incriminating tech—humming servers, stacks of encrypted drives, weapon blueprints, and whatever else. No wonder she’d never invited me here before. She always preferred meeting at my place, where things were simpler and less... explosive.

But now that the jig was up and I’d told her I was on board, all that caution seemed to melt away. Maybe she finally trusted me.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound as casual and sweet as possible. “Sooo... could I get the exposition-heavy backstory about my girlfriend, who also happens to be one of the more infamous villains worldwide?”

Selene stopped her anxious pacing and fixed me with a sharp look. Then she sighed, the kind that sounded like she was bracing herself. “I suppose I owe you that.”

I grinned. “Not like I’m demanding it. I’m just genuinely interested in you. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not entirely villainous. Maybe just... a bit villainous. Like, as a treat.”

She raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “You’re weirdly okay with a lot of this.”

I shrugged. “Sel, I win fights by letting people punch me in the face repeatedly. Going with the flow isn’t just a skill—it’s a survival tactic. But please—please don’t make me go into the ocean again with any of your crazy schemes. I swear, I will be very mad.”

She quirked a brow and gave me a small nod, settling down across from me on the couch. The tension in her shoulders loosened a little, like she was preparing to drop the guard she always kept up.

“So,” she began quietly, “when I was a little girl—”

I shot up in my seat with mock enthusiasm. “Oh shit, we doing proper backstory shit! Hell yeah.”

She glared at me, clearly not amused by my interruption. “As I was saying, when I was a little girl, I admired the heroes around the world. When my metahuman powers developed at twelve, I wanted nothing more than to be a hero.”

Her voice dropped to something softer, almost wistful, like she was peeling back layers she usually kept locked away. “I thought I could save people. Make the world better. But... then Apex happened.”

Okay, real talk? That phrase hit like a gut punch wrapped in velvet. I nodded slowly, locking onto her every word.

“My parents,” she said, swallowing hard, “they were both superheroes. I didn’t really know... not fully, not until later. They kept it hidden from me, wanted to protect me. But then... they died. By his hand.”

I felt my throat tighten. No wonder she was the way she was. Those glossy-eyed “I wanna save the world” dreams? They got burned to ashes faster than you can say ‘plot twist.’

Her eyes flickered with something raw—pain, rage, all bundled up like a storm barely held in check. “Apex... he wasn’t just a villain. He was the reason everything I believed in shattered. He took them away. And with them, he took any hope I had that the world could be saved the way I dreamed.”

Yeah, that tracks. Bright-eyed hopeful kid, flipped upside down by tragedy, and instead of fading away, she turned into this blazing, complicated mess of fire and ice. Watching her story unfold was like watching a star go supernova—too beautiful and too dangerous to ignore.

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it more than I usually let on.

She gave me a small, bitter smile. “Don’t be. It’s the truth that made me who I am.”

Then she dropped the names like a bomb: “They were a crime-fighting duo. Day Clown and Night Harlequin.”

My brain instantly pinged. Oh fuck. “Oh fuck. I know them. Let me guess—they didn’t go villain, and they found out something about Apex... or something he wasn’t supposed to be doing?”

She nodded, fists clenching tight. “They found out he was making heroes disappear. Specifically the ones who didn’t fit his perfect little mold. So they vanished—branded as villains.”

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. That was the part nobody ever says out loud—the way the wrong costume, the wrong powers, the wrong look could get you blacklisted or worse. Not because you broke a law. Just because you made the poster boy nervous.

“And that’s what happened to you, too?” I asked, my voice low, barely hiding the hit of realization.

She nodded again. “Yeah. I was fighting as Shadowqueen originally.”

Oh. Oh fuck. I knew that name. You had to dig deep into old forums and archival scraps, but if you were a cape nerd like me—and let’s be real, I absolutely am—then you knew about Shadowqueen. Erased from the net, swept under the rug, but not forgotten. Not by people who paid attention.

“I fought crime,” she continued, voice distant, haunted. “But as you know, my abilities can be… intimidating. Shadows, illusions, the whole ‘goth sorceress vibe.’ I wasn’t well liked. And someone used that against me. That someone turned out to be Apex.”

Of course it was. Of course that smarmy, square-jawed fascist with a god complex couldn’t stand anyone he couldn’t control or market.

“Rumors started flying—whispers that I was unstable, dangerous. Not because of anything I did, but because of how my powers made people feel. They called me creepy. Said I didn’t smile enough.” She snorted bitterly.

“Classic,” I muttered.

“This all came to a head when I was trying to stop a metahuman arms deal. I had it under control—was seconds from breaking it up—when the whole scene was twisted into some carefully filmed ‘villainous attack.’ Apex shows up all righteous and gleaming and says I’ve fallen, just like my parents. Then he tried to bring me in.”

“And you fought him.”

“Of course I did.” She looked me in the eye, steady and unflinching. “He was more powerful, but not that much more. I couldn’t win, but I could hold him off long enough to get out. And after that, the world stopped asking questions. The news said I’d gone rogue. My name got blacklisted. I went underground.”

I let out a slow breath. “And then?”

She folded her arms, shoulders tight with the memory. “Then I got to work. I dug. I broke into ApexCorp systems. I traced encrypted comms, intercepted files, hacked SCU records. I snuck into the Metahuman Containment Facility.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, you broke into the fucking Blacksite?”

“Twice,” she said, with a grim little smile. “First time was recon. Second time, I got footage. Real, verifiable proof of what they’re doing in there.”

“And?”

“They’re vanishing metas. Reprogramming some, torturing others. I even found traces of my parents’ DNA in their experimentation logs. I don’t know if they’re alive. But I know they were taken, not killed. Apex buried it all.”

Holy shit.

“And you’ve been... gathering evidence ever since?”

She nodded. “Years of work. Quiet, methodical, careful. I can’t just throw what I have into the light. I need everything. I need it airtight. When I take Apex down, it won’t just be a PR nightmare for him—it’ll be the end of his whole empire.”

I sat back, trying to process the scope of it. “So… where do I fit into all this?”

I meant it sincerely. I wasn’t exactly stealthy. My powers weren’t made for spy work—I mostly broke things with my face.

She looked at me like I’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Ivy, are you kidding me? You might be the only person on the planet who can actually beat Apex.”

I blinked. “I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!” I leapt to my feet, arms wide, striking a dramatic pose.

She giggled—an actual giggle, like I’d caught her off guard. “I’m serious! Well... maybe Butterfly too, but she’s halfway around the world. You’re here. And you’re terrifying.”

“Oooh, so I’m just convenient!” I flopped back onto the couch, mock-wounded.

She looked genuinely distressed. “No! That’s not what I meant! I just—look, there are very few metas who could survive a one-on-one fight with Apex, and you’re way up there. Do you not realize how insanely overpowered you are?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been... reconsidering the idea that my powers are ‘stupid.’”

“You walked across the seafloor for three hours. While constantly repairing your own brain damage from asphyxiation.”

“…Okay, yeah. That’s not stupid.”

“It’s not.” Selene’s voice softened, her posture shifting ever so slightly as she reached for vulnerability. “The fact I happened to start dating you because I thought you were a cute butch was just… a very happy coincidence. Assuming you do still want to keep dating?”

I blinked at her like she’d just asked if I wanted oxygen.

“Look, I suspected you of being a supervillain before we started dating,” I said with a snort. “Any second guessing was tossed the hell out the window the moment you walked that insane goth butt into my garage. Seriously though—what do I need to do?”

Her smile was small but warm, and for a second it felt like the moon rose early just for me. It looked weird on her, but in that stunning, ‘am I hallucinating a romance novel’ kind of way.

“I need you to confront him,” she said, tone shifting to all business. “But not here. Not in the city. I want to avoid casualties if I can. If you can incapacitate him, we’ll break into the SCU Metahuman Prison and use their tech to strip him of his power. But more importantly—while you’re fighting, I want you to get him talking.”

I perked up instantly. “Which I am amazing at!” I threw up my hands. “Sorry. Carry on.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I want him on record. Rambling, ranting—whatever he spills during a fight, especially when he thinks he’s winning, it’ll be gold. We need people to see who he really is. So we’ll be live streaming the whole thing.”

“Cool cool cool. Uh—slight hiccup: how are we filming a superpowered slugfest without the camera exploding in the first ten seconds?”

“I thought of that. I commissioned Tecceron to build something custom. Invisible casing, auto-stabilization, motion tracking, and the entire chassis is made with orichalcum.”

I froze. “…Fucking what? You got your hands on orichalcum? How the hell did you manage that?”

Selene gave me a grin that could’ve melted steel beams. “Probably my highest-profile heist, honestly. Government blacksite. United European Union vault. I got away with eight hundred grams before they even noticed the breach.”

My jaw hit the metaphorical floor. “Okay, that’s insane. Also—you got Tecceron to do it? He’s a literal hero. And wait—how do you know all my contacts? Like—how do you know Petunia?”

“She was my informant back when I was still a hero. And… well, beyond that too.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Beyond that?”

“None of your business,” she said smoothly, the tiniest flicker of amusement in her tone.

“Okay, rude. But… she never told you about me? Like—my identity?”

Selene shook her head. “No. She’s a professional. Keeps her files sealed tighter than a temporal lockbox. She’s been in this game longer than both of us have been alive. She doesn’t burn people.”

“…Okay. Yeah. That’s fair.” I sat back, half in awe, half just trying to catch up with how many pieces were already moving on this 4D chessboard.

“With Tecceron—it’s important to remember, not all heroes look up to Apex,” Selene said, her tone measured but firm. “Like you. Like Tecceron. Like a lot of others, actually. He always thought my ‘villainization’ was suspicious. Especially given what happened to my parents.”

She exhaled slowly, voice tightening at the edges. “They were loved. Revered, even. Public darlings, both of them. When they disappeared and I got branded a threat shortly after… It was too clean. Too fast. Tecceron was one of the few who said it didn’t add up.”

I nodded slowly, my stomach twisting. This whole situation was so fucked. The kind of corruption that didn’t just fester—it dug its claws into history and rewrote the truth.

Still… for all the chaos, all the deception, I knew who I was. I’d always held one thing as my deepest belief: I’m a hero. Not because someone gave me a badge. Not because the media said so. I’m a hero because I help people. Because I choose to be. A hero for fun, sure—but more than that. A hero who gives a shit.

“Well,” I said, standing a little straighter. “I’m totally on board. So what, I just gotta conceal the camera somewhere on me?”

Selene gave a sharp nod. “Yes. I had it designed to mount discreetly on your shoulder. Apex tends to go for the center mass or head, so the shoulder’s a safe bet—it’ll give us a steady shot without drawing attention. It’s shielded, heat-resistant, pressure-hardened, and synced to a satellite uplink. Even if it’s destroyed, we’ll still have footage.”

“Fancy.” I whistled low. “You always this prepared?”

“I’ve had time,” she said dryly. Then, her expression softened again. “I’ll also give you a list of metahumans who’ve been villainized or disappeared because of him. Faces, names, codenames. Anyone who might get him to open up mid-fight. The more you throw at him, the more likely he is to crack. He will talk if he thinks he’s winning.”

“Which is great for me,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Because I’m amazing at pissing people off while pretending to lose.”

A tiny smirk tugged at her lips. “I’ve noticed.”

“But what about his actual powers?” I asked, more seriously now. “I know he’s got flight, heat vision, super strength, some level of superspeed… He’s like a goddamn cheat code. And borderline invincible.”

“Yes,” she said, matter-of-fact. “His durability is near the top of the chart. Not impenetrable, but high. That’s why I’m not asking you to beat him. I’m asking you to hold him. Distract him. Make him slip. Get him talking.”

“Cool, cool, no pressure,” I said, trying not to let the panic in my chest crawl all the way up to my face. “Just stall the evil demigod while recording his confession live on camera. Easy peasy.”

“You’re stronger than you think, Ivy.”

“…You sure that’s not just the crush talking?”

“I’m sure,” Selene said, looking at me in a way that made my spine straighten and my heartbeat skip. “You’re one of the few people I’d trust with this.”

I swallowed. Then nodded. “Alright. Let’s dethrone a golden boy.”

“Hey Ivy?”

“Yeah?”

Selene gave me a small, tired smile—the kind that felt like a quiet exhale after holding your breath too long. “Thanks for this. I really appreciate it.”

I grinned immediately, putting on my most exaggeratedly smug face. “I am the most wonderful, perfect, ideal girlfriend in the entire multiverse, yeah.”

She let out a snort. “You’re a dork.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said, pressing a hand dramatically to my chest. “But like, the sexy kind of dork. The rare breed.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching upward like she was trying not to smile. “You’re lucky I have a thing for charming disasters.”

“See?” I beamed. “Mutual delusions of grandeur. That’s how you know it’s real love.”

This time, she did laugh—soft, but genuine. And for a moment, the weight of our whole apocalyptic hero-hunt melted just enough that I could feel her hand brush mine. Warm. Grounding.

“I mean it, Ivy,” she said, quieter now. “You didn’t have to say yes. You didn’t even have to believe me. But you did.”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling weirdly shy under her gaze. “Yeah, well. You make a good case. Plus, you’re hot. That helps.”

She leaned in and kissed my cheek, whispering, “Dork.”

I grinned. “Still counts as a win.”