To destroy is to forget.

That was the last thing the Empress said to Amanda. The look on her face--that blank, half-dazed stare, followed by the sigh, the twist of her head, the twirl of her hair. A desk, full of paper, knives, and a canister full of either water or whiskey--she wasn't about to sniff it and find out. She's a wreck. Mentally, Amanda chuckled. This place is a wreck. The Empress's voice stroked the room, leaning against the walls, slipping through the windows. Loud and soft danced together, fulfilling a prophecy and leaving the ghosts behind. There, everything was calm. Two women, talking gently.

"I hate to admit it but you're right, Amanda. To destroy is to forget." For a second, there seemed to be a smile. A story of chains and lies. Background noise, forgotten in the destruction of the past. Then the noise of a phone ringing, the dismissive hand, and Amanda was gone, out of the office.

It was a blessing and a curse, leaving. Am I really doing this? Can I just do this? Leaving had become something that she'd never expected while remaining something that she'd wanted. I guess I have to now. It's too late to go back. Leaving had become something whole. A new disguise to slip into. A new tale, one that read: never answer any questions, never finish anything. Just keep walking. Where? Forever away from an office.

Forever away from reality.

If Amanda knew one thing, it was that nothing good ever came when people forgot. That was why she tried so hard to remember--every detail of leaving. Watching more and more die until just the five remaining. And then...not even that. Disbanding was fun, in a way. To watch the world lose hope. To watch people fail. Even so, something inside felt wrong, like each step drew her further away from anything she could ever become. This was a mess. Everything...everything in this world is just a mess. Yet here we are. A grand disaster.

She was leaving herself. Why? Because--that was all she had. A simple word. One that honestly meant nothing. A word that was blank, void, gone. Because. A word given by mother to daughter. A passing sentiment from a hand to a dropped gun. A hug goodbye. A sigh. A kiss on the cheek to an old friend.

Because. It was the word she gave Carol when she resigned. It was the word she gave Kenith when he wouldn't let her go. That was what she told King, that stupid kid, as he walked outside. It was what he gave back. Two stories bypassed on to different roads. He was a mess too, wasn't he? That smile didn't seem too messy. A good mess. With Maanyo, with Nora, the other two remaining, the because was an unspoken nod, a known 'goodbye' followed by a new 'hello'.

And god, didn't life feel weird?

Don't ask and they wouldn't tell--at least, that was the plan. Nothing really stayed according to the plan. Everything that Amanda had ever set up for herself had failed. Yet, in that failure, came something that wasn't irritation or anger. It was just...because. So there she sat, resting her leg against the wall and stretching, feeling that blissful 'just finished yoga' pop.

The door opened and a face peered in. "You done?" The intern was new--a cute girl with stripes in her hair and fire that scorched up her body. She wouldn't last long--they usually didn't. "I'd like to use the training room if you are, that's just it. Sorry. So?"

"So?" Amanda placed a hand on her hip and glared. The girl flinched. "Yeah, I'm finished."

"Thanks, Reason."

The door closed as she walked out of it, passing by the girl with a nod. Staying felt weird. It felt rough. Like her body wasn't worth it. Like leaving everything else, leaving her life, leaving the retirement she'd been so eager for, wasn't worth it. But leaving the rest of their pathetic little union without anything? Project Phoenix, like all damn birds, died. It melted to the ground. From the ashes, a babe remained. Sitting and playing in the dirt. Uncertain.

That was them. Uncertainty ruling, a life of nothing, a life of training, of minor battles, and lots of phone calls to concerned citizens who'd somehow found her phone number for the fifth time that month. God. Should I nap, or go for a run? The endless choices were great. Her body swelled with energy yet there was nothing--there was always nothing.

"Lost?" That little smile. That coy turn of the head. The Empress was something else--a person that Amanda couldn't, and wouldn't, want to figure out.

"Something like that."

"There's a super attacking Manhattan."

She snorted. "Oh, come on. You're kidding me."

"I wish."

"Manhattan?"

The Empress shook her head, starting to walk down the hall. "I've already informed the rest of them. Are you ready?"

Just an hour ago she'd been inside the office--confiding secrets with an ally. Discussing the differences that the last three months had brought. Time worked oddly there--it wasn't like working at Stand-Up Weekly, where every motion was planned out and her day planner remained full. Working for Project Phoenix meant that she'd be working long nights, days, and sleeping in the cracks between the two. Rest accompanied fights and fighting accompanied the meeting of new souls.

Her phone buzzed as she stood there, watching her boss walk off. Timothy's number blared out at her and she swiped right, letting his eager voice begin the onslaught of events.

"Amanda! You'll never believe it--I just got promoted."

"Uh huh?"

"Oh, and that date with Jordan went well. Thank you so much for telling me to go for it--I did and I made it and I hadn't expected that at all." Her heels clicked against the ground, loud, obnoxious, there. Existing in the emptied hallways of a building that'd once held many. "Everything is going great here. Doing really well. The company's sales haven't changed, uh Karen left, Carol got engaged, and I think that Kevin might be having an affair? It's crazy. Everyone misses you, babe."

She sighed. "I know. It's...different, Timmy. But I think this is what I'm supposed to be doing."

"You sound stressed."

A laugh. That hoarse chuckle that came as she entered her room and started to change, pulling off the sweaty outfit as her Bluetooth kept her connected to Tim. The golden outfit had gotten a few upgrades, and so had her falsie. The secretion capsules were smaller, contained throughout the outfit. A few had been converted into little arrows that she could fling out, making certain the skin would be penetrated. Seduction weaved through her curves, living inside the packed flesh of her hips and chest, and she stretched the outfit as it slid on, the solid fabric cold and sleek.

Too many had died to put her in that position. To be standing above her bed, pulling her arm through the hole and sliding into an outfit to go and try to save people she didn't give one flying shit about. Too many good people had lost their lives to save a person they thought existed but didn't. The Empress that everyone wanted to be real had been just another human hiding behind a mask. The past lay around her, scattered like the graveyard of birds, all cradled in the hands of time and death. Am I worthy? It was a stupid question. No one was worthy.

But damn would she be if she wasn't faking it.

Fingers against the doorframe and the girl with the stripes stood there, chatting away like the world was crashing behind her. In her hands was a baton with red flames carefully drawn across the sides and the new Project Phoenix logo on the side. It was the same as the imprint on Amanda's costume, pressed there in place alongside everyone else who choose to stay, to join, to fight. Theirs had been a lost cause, and something about that left her lingering, ready to see it through to the end.

"Ready to go?"

"Damn right."

Everyone had died to put them in that position. Broken. Missing far too many people. The original group disbanded or dead. The remaining few struggling to pick up the burnt pieces and move on. Where do I fit into all of this? Staring into the eyes of the new was her best guess--a lying face, a cocky grin, and then they were gone. Off to save the day. To fight for those who couldn't. To save the lives or lose hers along the way. Life had been shitty to them. It'd chewed them up, spat them out, and left them against the concrete to harden or rot.

"You ain't gonna mess up this time, right? Can't stand those easy mistakes, babe."

The younger one scoffed, flipping back her hair and rolling her eyes.

"Trust me--too many die from those easy mistakes." Amanda led, walking to fight in her high heels, her mussed up hair, and the last dregs of willpower that remained. The warning fell in the air--too many had died. Far too many.

And god--would she never forget it.

To forget is to destroy. But at least that means one day, all of this will be gone.