She stood on the edge of the precipice, the wind threatening to push her over the brink.

Ah. The wind. Listen to it. Allow its gentle murmur to envelop you.

The wind was perhaps the only thing that she had ever enjoyed. The wind was her soul. When she gave herself up to the gust, her worries were blown away, replaced by feelings of natural exhilaration. Of joy.

Yet these feelings, like the very gusts that caused them, were fleeting. The wind would lift her up, only to bash her into the ground like a ragdoll.

She took a deep breath, and stepped off of the precipice, allowing the wind to have its way with her for a final time. After all, what is life without a soul?

For a brief moment, she became one with the wind. She felt joy.

She then hit the ground.

Standing at the podium was a man, heavyset, with the type of face that you only see in the movies. He called himself the Griffin, and he was the interim leader of the Lifeblood. He was a proud man, one who held his head high out of habit. But today, his head was lowered.

“I come to you all today with a heavy heart. As some of you may have heard, Supernova, the founder and leader of the Lifeblood, was found dead earlier today.”

He paused, and allowed the news to settle.

“Now, some of you have asked what caused her death. It appears that her power backfired. Supernova was roasted alive by her own plasma while fighting an unknown combatant. I have already prepared a task force to allow us to identify the combatant. When the time comes, I will lead a strike team against whoever it is, and we will win. We will bring that miscreant down.”

The Griffin sighed.

“Vengeance aside, we ought to learn from this moment. It should be a warning to us all. None of us are immune to death. Regardless of the strength of our powers, none of us are invincible.”

She shut her eyes, allowing the heat of Supernova’s plasma to pierce through her body.

When she opened them, there was nothing but destruction and blood.

Ah. The wind. Listen to it. Its gentle murmur has become a roar. It cannot be stopped, and given enough time, it will destroy everything in its path. It is a force of nature. It does not think. It does not feel. It cares not what stands against it.

The great podium of the Lifeblood stood empty. Behind it, a single image had been projected onto the wall. It was of the Griffin, whose head had been shorn from his body. A girl was standing over him. Her hair fluttered in the wind.

The message was clear.

Come get me.