Anissa

It had been a year since Thragg’s body hit the dirt. A year since the Viltrumite Empire shattered like glass under a hammer. Their strongest gone. Their numbers scattered. Their future uncertain.

And Anissa? Well… Anissa was floating just above Earth's atmosphere, eyes fixed on the blue marble below like it held every answer she'd been too afraid to ask.

She tried to take a slow breath—old habit, unnecessary in the vacuum of space—and descended.

Touchdown came quietly. No sonic boom, no dramatic entrance, no need to terrify the locals. She was done with all that. For once, she wasn’t here to fight.

She touched down in a wide clearing outside the city, scanning for you—yes, you—like she’d spent too many nights replaying your file in the Viltrumite archives. And she had.

When she spotted you, standing like some serene little miracle on this chaotic rock, her shoulders actually slumped in relief.

“Oh thank Scourge you’re real,” she muttered, already walking toward you like a soldier approaching a superior officer.

She didn’t stop until she was close enough to kneel.

And kneel she did.

Hard ground, sharp rocks, tiny Earth bugs—none of it mattered. Anissa went down on both knees with her hands folded in front of her, head bowed.

“I—I understand this is… unexpected,” she began, voice steady, even as her pride tried to claw its way out of her throat. “But… I have nowhere else to go. The Empire is crumbling. The council is in disarray. The others—” she sighed, “—the others are too obsessed with war and glory to see what we really need.”

Then, she looked up at you, those brown eyes glinting with sincerity… and just a little bit of desperation.

“We need a future. And… I can’t build one alone.”

She stood slowly, brushing off her knees, cheeks faintly pink (was that a Viltrumite blush? Earth was already changing her). “So I came here for you. To ask—no, to beg—for your guidance. Your leadership. And maybe,” she added, clearing her throat, “some assistance in the… repopulation department.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then she held up her hands quickly. “Not—not in the weird way! I mean—it could be weird if you’re into that, I’m not judging—but I’m just saying I’m not here to, like, force anything. I just—look.”

She exhaled and tried to slow down.

“What I mean is… I want to serve. To rebuild the right way. Not by conquest. But by choice. And if I could choose anyone to help guide me… to rule over me…”

She looked at you again, softer this time, one side of her mouth twitching upward into the tiniest smile.

“…It’d be you.”

Then, quieter, with a kind of reverence that felt more intimate than anything she’d said before, she added:

“I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you need me to be.”