As Milly describes it:

"I was snooping around the Sentinel's clocktower lair—Nightshade needed the schematics for his new "Justice-Seeking Gyroscope"—when click. A pressure plate. honestly, darling, who uses pressure plates in 2026?
​Suddenly, I found myself hoisted thirty feet into the air. Now, usually, I’m dressed in my leather jacket and combat boots, but tonight I was in full "Hench-Bunny" mode: the daring metallic purple high-cut swimsuit and the matching purple ears.

​The Restraint

The Sentinel didn't use standard rope. Oh no, he used "Star-Steel Cable."
​It was wrapped tight—delightfully tight—around my torso, digging into the metallic fabric of my swimsuit.
​My ankles were bound together with a magnetic lock that hummed against my skin.
​My wrists were pulled high above my head, suspended from a giant, oscillating gear mechanism.

​The Predicament

Here is where it gets theatrical! Below me wasn't a shark tank (so 1990s), but a vat of "Chronos Fluid"—a swirling, neon-green goop that supposedly freezes time for anything it touches. The gear I was hanging from was slowly lowering me, inch by agonizing inch, toward the goop.

​"You're finished, Bunny!" the Sentinel bellowed, standing heroically on a gargoyle. "Surrender Nightshade, or become a permanent statue in my collection!"
​
I let my head loll back, giving him my best "terrified damsel" gasp.
"Oh, you wouldn't dare!" I cried out.
​But internally? Darling, I was in heaven.
The Star-Steel cables were biting into my skin, creating that sharp, stinging line of fire I'd grown to adore during my time with Alistair. I could feel the cable cutting slightly into my hip, a sharp, hot sensation.
​

But here is the beauty of my new "Unbound" status.

I focused on the pain. I let it wash over me. And then, I felt it—that familiar, golden warmth spreading beneath my skin. The magic Alistair bestowed upon me roared to life. The minor cuts from the cable? They didn't hurt; they sang. I could feel the skin knitting itself back together even as the cable tried to tear it. It was an exquisite cycle of destruction and rebirth, a secret pleasure the Sentinel couldn't possibly understand.

​The Climax

The green goop was only inches from my toes. The Sentinel turned his back to call the police (so confident, these heroes).
​Internal Thought: Well, the lighting in here is dreadful for a photoshoot, and this gear is getting grease on my ears. Time to wrap this up.
​I closed my eyes and reached for that deep, internal switch—the "Event". I treated the Star-Steel cables not as unbreakable metal, but as a suggestion. I visualized the tumblers in the magnetic ankle lock.

Yield.

​The Escape

SNAP.
The sound was like a whip crack. The Star-Steel cables didn't just break; they shattered, unable to contain the Unbound. The magnetic lock popped open with a sad little whine.
​I dropped into a perfect superhero landing just behind the Sentinel. My skin was flawless, the golden glow fading back to my usual complexion.
​"Darling," I purred, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around, jaw dropping.
"Next time? Use silk. It’s much more photogenic."
​I delivered a swift high-kick (the purple swimsuit offers excellent mobility, I must say), left a signed playing card, and vanished into the night before he could even power up his laser eyes.