"Yeah. I mean," Connie fiddles with her gauntlet, changing a miniscule detail on a single character in its runic circuitry before continuing, "I guess I did have a choice, technically. To just sit on the sidelines while- hold on." An errant gout of flame bursts from the inner workings of the gauntlet and sets Connie's leather work glove on fire, and she spends the next several seconds taking it off and slapping it against the grass until it's doused.

Putting it back on, she says, "As I was saying, I technically could've just sat back and let everybody else did the work. But knowing what I did, that at any second a bunch of incredibly powerful godlike conquerors and their armies could touch down back on Earth for a round two... well, it wasn't a choice. Not really."