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Traya took a step backwards. The winds began to pick up again, fluttering her cape and whistling around the rooftops.

"No..." she said. She knew they weren't real. They were just monsters wearing their flesh. Killed in some nameless accident in wartorn Biayla when she'd been little more than a baby.

The League had intervened and Red Tornado had rescued her. She'd never been afraid of him, not even then, when his voice had still been cold and mechanical, his own construction still crude and not entirely human. He'd brought her home to his own love, Kathy Sutton, and they'd become a family.

As a young girl, she'd known she was adopted. She thought about her birthparents, wondered who they were, why they'd had to die. But she'd been loved dearly and loved in return. And she had quickly realized that the family, made without blood, was just as real, just as important, as any other.

"No," she said firmly. "I can't. There's too many people who love me, too many people who rely on me. They won't give up on me... and I won't give up on them. Mom. Dad. Jon. Michael. The League Everyone."

"If there's anything of my birth-parents in you, anything at all... then you'll understand why I have to do this."

She brought up both hands and fired off tornado blasts.

(WILL)
(HOPE)
(LOVE)
(COMPASSION)