In the absolute black void where the world seemed to have ceased to exist, Power Girl hovered, suspended and immobilized. The white balaclava tightly wrapped around her face revealed only one eye — wide open, moist, reflecting the disbelief of someone who never imagined being captured. The cold glow of the kryptonite gem on her silver collar illuminated her stiff neck, draining the power that made her a legend.

Her arms, tightly bound and firmly joined behind her back by silver armbinders, formed an unyielding line of restraint. Her legs, equally trapped by blue straps, held together and rigid, forcing her body into an uncomfortable curve — muscle tension visible beneath the white fabric of her bodysuit, glistening with sweat that trickled down her forehead and along the curves of her bust and hips.

She tried, in an initial burst, to rip control back with her strength — but nothing but a muffled, frustrated, harsh sound escaped her gagged mouth. The "mmphh... mmph!" was the cry that the prison demanded, choking her words, gagging her fury. With every new effort, the sound repeated—a "mmphh... mmmphh... mmmph!" mixing challenge and helplessness.

In the silence of the void, the muffled sound reverberated like a dull thunder—and Power Girl, used to commanding with firmness, now found herself reduced to trapped murmurs, trembling sounds escaping in irregular rhythm: "mmph... mmmph... mmmphh!" Her mouth struggled to form words, but the leather and pressure of the gag denied her air, voice, and command.