Time To Come Clean

Sera let out a slow breath, letting the tension ease from her shoulders just enough to shift her posture, careful to keep her body language measured. Lucius wasn’t threatening her—he was drawing a line, one she could either step over or walk away from. If she pushed too hard, the conversation would be over before it began, and she couldn’t afford that.

Her fingers traced absently along the hem of her sleeve, a deliberate motion as she considered her words. “I’m here because I don’t have many options left,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, more even. “And because whatever Bruce Wayne saw in my work before he died… he was right to be interested.” She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “He probably didn’t have all the details—no one outside of STAR Labs did—but he knew enough to be concerned. Maybe he suspected the risks, maybe he saw something in the research that made him take notice. Either way, he was paying attention before anyone else was. And now, the only people who might have picked up where he left off are sitting in this building.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before pressing forward, the calculated walls of deflection slipping just enough to let the truth in. “The project I worked on wasn’t public. It wasn’t safe, either, but that never stopped STAR Labs from pushing ahead. It was theoretical energy research, something that was supposed to advance our understanding of quantum displacement—high-concept, full of promise, the kind of thing that could land someone a lifetime of funding if they played the right politics.” Her lips pressed together, jaw tightening slightly before she forced herself to focus. “Except it wasn’t theoretical. It worked. And I was in the room when it did.”

Her hand twitched at her side, and for the first time since stepping into the building, she didn’t try to control it. The motion carried a ripple—a flicker at the edges of her fingers, subtle but unmistakable, a distortion like heat rolling off asphalt. She curled them into a loose fist before it could spread, the movement smoothing out as she glanced back up at him.

“I didn’t leave STAR Labs because of some professional disagreement,” she continued, steadier now. “I left because I wasn’t supposed to walk away from that accident at all. And the fact that I did means I’m… unstable. The longer I go without stabilizers, the worse it gets. The phasing, the flickering—sometimes it’s controlled, sometimes it isn’t. One day, I could blink out and never make it back. That’s why I need access. I need materials, research, anything that can help me fix this before there’s nothing left to fix.”

Sera let the silence settle for a moment, not pleading, not demanding—just stating what was left of her reality.

“I know I’m asking for a lot,” she said finally, her voice carefully measured. “And I don’t know what Bruce Wayne might have left behind, or if there’s anything in those files that can help me. But I do know that whatever made him take an interest in my work… it wasn’t by accident. If he saw something worth investigating, then I need to see it too.”

She exhaled, glancing down at her hands before curling her fingers inward, as if grounding herself. “I’m not a threat to anyone but myself, but that window is closing. I can’t fix this on my own, not without resources STAR Labs would notice the second I tried to get my hands on them. I came here because this is the only place left where I might find answers, and if there’s even a chance that something in your archives—something Bruce saw—can help me stabilize, then I need to take it.”

She looked back at Lucius, steady despite the weight behind her words. “I don’t expect charity. If this is a dead end, I’ll walk out that door and figure out another way. But if there’s anything—anything at all—that might help me stop slipping away, then I have to try.”