A Monster's Reflection

Cate saw it the moment Gale’s fingers clenched too tightly around the glass.

The quiet crack.

The slow, inevitable collapse of control.

And then—shattered glass, blood pooling in the palm of her hand.

She didn’t even flinch.

Cate exhaled through her nose, tapping her fingers lightly against the table. “Huh.”

Starlight, sitting beside her, wasn’t as detached. Her brows knit together, her fingers twitching against her glass. She saw it too—not just the self-inflicted injury, but the deeper wound underneath.

The way Gale spat Stormfront’s name like venom, like the woman’s very existence had rotted her from the inside out.

And maybe it had.

Starlight had hated Stormfront too. Hated her for what she was, what she did—but this?

This was something else.

“You don’t hate Supes,” Starlight murmured, more to herself than anything. “You’re afraid of turning into one.”

Cate tilted her head, studying Gale, watching the way her shoulders tensed, the way she struggled to keep herself from spiraling.

“You think this is a virus,” Cate mused, voice light, but her gaze sharp. “That it’s spreading. That one day, you’ll wake up, and you won’t be you anymore.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment.

“Well,” she continued, reaching for her drink, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

Starlight shot her a glare, but Cate simply shrugged, unbothered.

“What?” Cate took a slow sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “She’s not crazy. Not entirely. If Stormfront’s still whispering in her head, then yeah—maybe what she left behind isn’t just a memory.”

She watched Gale closely now, voice measured. “And if it’s still in there? That means it can be removed.”

That got Starlight’s attention.

“You’re saying you could—”

Cate gave a slow, knowing smile. “Maybe.”

She turned back to Gale, resting her chin in her palm.

“The question is, do you even want it gone?”

Starlight exhaled through her nose and changed the subject, letting the unspoken offer linger.

“You asked about the FBSA,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Federal Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.”

Gale had asked the question in desperation, needing to pull herself away from the edge, but now she actually listened.

“They were supposed to keep Supes in check,” Starlight continued. “A government watchdog agency. Damage control. PR. All of it.”

Cate chuckled softly, swirling the last of her drink. “Until, of course, the government became Supes.”

She tilted her head toward Timberly, still slumped over in her chair. “And now we’ve got whatever the hell this is, stumbling into bars looking for an arrest that isn’t happening.”

Starlight, however, was focused on Gale.

Because something about what Cate had said before stuck.

Stormfront’s power set wasn’t just dangerous—it was useful.

Gale could fly. She could generate enough electricity to put people down fast. If she was anywhere near as powerful as the real deal…

They needed that.

“I don’t care what’s in your head,” Starlight finally said. “I care what you do with it.”

She leaned forward, her gaze steady, weight behind her words.

“So tell me, Gale—are you just going to sit here and talk about the monster in the mirror, or are you going to help us kill one?”

The invitation was on the table.

Now it was up to Gale to take it.