Tim struggled to breathe, his fingers gripping weakly at the slab of concrete.

He'd been after a cyber thief with a penchant for stealing from the rich. The criminal was skilled, leaving very little digital or physical evidence behind, and the case had quickly grown stale. However, the thief had gotten bold and targeted Bruce Wayne—finally, a trail Tim could follow. It hadn't taken him very long at all to pinpoint the thief's location: the basement of an office building in central Gotham. A small, inconspicuous maintenance room.

Tim had snuck into the building and made his way underground. With stealth and surprise on his side, he'd finally managed to catch his target. There had been no time to celebrate, however; no sooner had he restrained his opponent, the loud boom of an explosion had shaken the building's foundation, and they'd barely had time to register what was going on when the ceiling began to crack and came crashing down on the pair.

Pinned under the rubble, Tim could do nothing but hope for mercy. Thoughts of his family flooded his mind; of what his loved ones would go through if he died. The collapse had crushed his equipment, and the odds of his signal still being online were slim. He'd had a backup plan, but those were slow; with every breath he took, the massive piece of concrete sank further, and it was a matter of time before he couldn't breathe at all.

"I'm sorry, guys," he whispered, closing his eyes and bracing for the worst. "I'm so sorry."