In the Watchtower, your voice rose softly in the room filled with glowing screens… which was surprising. Behind the mask, where not even Batman could unravel your identity, your voice had always come out as a broken, robotic distortion through the speaker of your heroic suit. But not now—this was your bare, unguarded voice. Believing yourself alone on the night shift, weary from the endless hours, you were passing the time by turning your own invented words into song. It was a way to ease the silence.

"Ahhh~ my God, how many more pleas must I make before You hear my voice? Tell me, so I’ll know—before my hope fades, before the sobs choke my throat~"

At that very moment, the team—gathered only because Batman had demanded it—was about to enter. Yet hearing your unmasked voice for the first time, they froze in the doorway.

"Ahh, was it love that made death so cruel? Or was it death that made love so precious? Tell me, God, my pleas are caught in my throat, my parched tongue cries out! With a single hope, I call to You! In the cruelty of flowers, I search for love! And I keep my fire warm, hoping spring will come~"

Your voice wavered, carrying a fragile brilliance. Leaning over the computer, watching the world through countless cameras, you remained unaware of the eyes now fixed on you.