You know, the most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves.
A mirror doesn’t create a flaw.
It only reflects what was already broken.
But Drewitt, you never learned to look clearly.
You didn’t survive betrayal by facing it.
You survived by painting over it. By finding new surfaces to cast the same reflection you couldn’t let go of.
You stood before Narcissa—wife to the man who locked you beyond the door—and you didn’t see the same treachery waiting behind new eyes.
You saw opportunity.
You saw redemption.
Because you needed to.
You told yourself that this time, the oath would hold. That this time, the cause would be pure. That if you stared hard enough, the mirror would show you something different.
But it didn’t.
It never could.
And when Gemini stood before you—blood tied to the man who left you to rot—you didn’t see the threat. You didn’t see the risk.
You didn’t see the possibility that she knew, that she had always known.
You saw a sister.
A memory of a loyalty that died long before you chose to pretend it still breathed.
And you let her go.
Not out of mercy, not out of strategy. But out of desperation.
Because standing for principle would have required you to acknowledge what the mirror was actually showing you.
And you couldn’t.
You couldn’t afford to see betrayal again. You couldn’t afford to admit that you were chasing ghosts across broken glass.
So you chose the reflection instead.
And when the final blow came—when Grimskull tried to collect the debt you wrote with your disloyalty—you reached out blindly once more.
You didn’t look to see who was offering their hand. You didn’t weigh the history, you didn’t recognize the face.
You accepted El Mariachi Muerte’s rescue—the same man who had chosen his own survival over yours.
Because the mirror, cracked and stained though it was, showed you what you needed to see.
Salvation, brotherhood. Family.
It showed you a lie.
And you chose it again.
You see, when you step into that ring, Drewitt, you won’t be standing for loyalty. You won’t be fighting for honor. You won’t even be fighting for yourself.
You’ll be fighting for a reflection you can’t bear to let die.
You’ll be swinging at phantoms, reaching for promises that have already rotted, defending an image that never matched the reality.
And no oath you recite, no uniform you wear, no brotherhood you claim will change what’s waiting on the other side of the glass.
Because the mirror didn’t lie to you, Drewitt.
You lied to yourself.
And when the final crack runs across it—when the image shatters, when you’re left staring at the truth you spent so long refusing to see—
It won’t be betrayal that breaks you.
It won’t be vengeance, it won’t be hate.
It will be recognition.
Recognition that you chose this collapse every time you looked away. Every time you saw what you needed, not what was actually there.
Recognition that when the glass breaks, Drewitt… there won’t be a single fucking reflection that can save you.