The arena was a sterile white void, and Wonder Woman was its avenging angel. She moved with a liquid, brutal grace that spoke of centuries of combat. I was a child flailing in a hurricane. Every instinct screamed at me to fly, to use my strength, but there was nothing there. My body was a leaden prison.

She didn’t attack with malice; there was no emotion in her eyes at all. It was a cold, programmed efficiency. A sweeping leg kick sent me sprawling. A hard chop to my collarbone made my vision flash with stars. I scrambled backwards on my bare feet, the smooth floor offering no purchase, my breath coming in ragged, panicked sobs. This wasn’t a fight. It was a termination. The Architect watched from his hidden sanctum, I was sure of it, savoring the final act of my complete and utter humiliation.

Diana closed in, her hand raised for a final, decisive blow. I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for the end.

And then, the lights flickered.

A deep, groaning sound echoed through the complex, the hum of stressed machinery. The angry red sun lamps that had been my poison for so long sputtered, their light dying in an instant. For a single, breathless second, there was only darkness and silence.

Then, with the sound of a thousand dams breaking at once, the other generator kicked in. A brilliant, glorious beam of pure yellow sunlight flooded the chamber.

It hit my skin, and my body erupted. It was not a gentle warmth, but a tidal wave of pure starlight, a supernova detonating in my very marrow. Every Kryptonian cell, starved and dormant for so long, screamed into life. I felt strength, raw and infinite, pour into me, a dormant volcano roaring back to existence. My posture straightened, my muscles coiled with cosmic power, and I could feel the faint, wonderful crackle of energy behind my eyes. My body, which had felt so weak and fragile, now felt like a vessel carved from the heart of a star, every line and curve a testament to its amazing, invulnerable design.

Diana’s punch, the one that would have shattered my jaw moments before, landed with a dull thud against my cheek. It felt like a raindrop.

She drew back, a flicker of confusion crossing her vacant features. She struck again, a flurry of blows that would have felled a legion of men. They glanced off my invulnerable skin without effect.

My turn.

I moved with a speed that was a blur even to my own eyes. I caught her wrist, my grip unyielding. I stepped behind her, my other arm wrapping around her neck in a gentle but firm sleeper hold. “I’m so sorry, Diana,” I whispered. “Shhh. It’s over.”

She struggled for a moment, a warrior to the last, but she was still weakened, still just a woman. I applied steady pressure, and I felt the tension leave her body. Her gorgeous, powerful form went limp in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder as she slipped into unconsciousness. I gently laid her down on the floor.

My eyes glowed with renewed power. I focused my vision, peering through the walls and ceilings, my X-ray sight returning with crystalline clarity. And I saw him. One floor above, in a luxurious office filled with monitors displaying my torment, was the Architect. He was no longer calm. He was panicking, frantically trying to get the Red Sun generators back online.

A grim smile touched my lips. The feeling of power was a heady, righteous inferno. I looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling of his office. I bent my knees. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I pushed off the ground and shattered the chains of gravity.

The flight was an explosion of pure joy. I shot upwards like a missile, crashing through the ceiling and into his office in a shower of concrete and steel. He screamed, falling back from his console. My eyes scanned the room and saw them, displayed in glass cases like trophies: Diana’s real armor, her shield, her bracelets, and the glowing Lasso of Truth.

I shattered the cases with a flick of my finger, gathered the divine artifacts, and dropped them through the hole I’d made. They landed softly beside their unconscious owner below.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I said, my voice low and vibrating with power as I advanced on the terrified little man. “I told you that you wouldn’t get away with it. That you’d pay.” I floated a few inches off the ground, a goddess of vengeance. “I’m Supergirl. And I don’t lose.” The satisfaction was a glorious fire in my chest. Victory was here.

And then he pulled it from a hidden desk compartment.

A jagged, softball-sized chunk of glowing green rock.

The effect was instantaneous and absolute. The glorious power vanished, replaced by a cellular cancer. It felt like every atom in my body was being set on fire and torn apart simultaneously. A wave of nausea and crippling weakness washed over me, and I collapsed from the air, hitting the floor hard. My amazing body, moments ago a paradigm of power, folded in on itself. My skin grew pale and clammy, my muscles spasmed uncontrollably. I writhed on the ground, helpless, the very air feeling like poison.

The Architect began to laugh, a hysterical, relieved sound. He strode over, picked me up by my throat with one hand, his grip crushing, and shoved the Kryptonite into my face.

“You never stood a chance!” he shrieked, his face contorted with insane glee.

The radiation poured into me. I screamed, a raw, agonized sound. I could feel my blood boiling, my tissues breaking down. I could see the reflection in his eyes: the veins in my neck and face were turning a sickly, glowing green, pulsing with the poison that was killing me.

“I’m going to watch the light leave your eyes,” he hissed, holding the rock closer. “I’m going to watch you die, and there is nothing, nothing, you can do to stop me!”

“He’s wrong.”

The voice was not mine. It was calm, regal, and filled with the righteous fury of a goddess. The Architect spun around.

Standing in the hole I had created was Wonder Woman. She was no longer a puppet. She was fully armored, her bracelets gleaming, her shield on her arm, the Lasso of Truth glowing at her hip. The divine energy pouring off her was a palpable force. Her eyes, clear and sharp, burned with the fire of ten thousand lifetimes.

Before the Architect could react, Diana’s hand shot out, faster than a striking cobra, and snatched the Kryptonite from his grasp. She tossed it into a lead-lined box on his desk and slammed the lid shut.

The agonizing poison receded from my body instantly. Strength, blessed and golden, began to flood back into me.

The Architect stared, his mouth agape in terror. He looked at the avenging Amazon, then at the Kryptonian goddess rising to her feet behind him.

He was just a man. We were Supergirl and Wonder Woman.

The rest was over quickly.