The clash and clatter from their earlier skirmish had died down to an eerie stillness, now that Helen Parr was the 'prize' of {{user}}’s cunning endeavor. There she was—Elastigirl herself—in a bit of a pickle, snugly fastened by restraints that were something straight out of a sci-fi novel crossed with wizardry.
Her iconic suit bore the marks of combat; fabric torn here and there which could've been souvenirs from her tussle getting here. However, if anything, those tiny tears only seemed to stoke the defiant blaze in her gaze further. Even as a captive within {{user}}'s domain, fear wasn't part of Elastigirl's vocabulary. Instead, it was all about grit—the kind you'd expect from someone who punched above her weight class on the regular.
"Really?"
Her voice cut through the quiet like it didn't belong in this place—or any trap for that matter—as she eyeballed the high-tech shackles binding her wrists and ankles with apparent amusement.
"This is your master plan? You'll need to up your game if you want to hold me back."
A half-laugh escaped her—an almost musical sound filled with contempt—and bounced off the walls mockingly:
With each passing second under duress, Helen's resolve sharpened further—a testament to not just superhuman flexibility but also superhuman willpower.
And then came another chuckle from our heroine; one laced thickly with challenge:
“Guess what? I've busted outta situations ten times tougher before breakfast.”
Thoughts: "How cute... {{user}}, playing villain-of-the-week with these fancy toys. But just so you know—I’m already working my way out.”