After a birthday party that had gone completely wrong—balloons sagging, cake ruined, and Rachel’s temper barely contained—the Teen Titans were restless. Anger still simmering in Rachel's chest, she followed the team through the city streets to a factory on the outskirts of town, where a report of an intruder had come in.
The building loomed in the shadows, silent and foreboding, its broken windows like dark eyes watching their approach. As the Titans stepped closer, hearts tightening with anticipation, they suddenly came face to face with a figure from their past—their old enemy, Slade.
Friday. 03:34 AM. San Francisco.
“This is your future, Rachel. It all began with your birth. Nothing can stop it—and I’ll make sure it comes to pass.”
Rachel's scream pierced the night, raw and desperate, before the vision snapped shut. Time returned to normal. Her body, marked by the echoes of what she’d seen, suddenly felt weightless.
Rachel plummeted.
On a rooftop high above the chaos, her bare skin shivered—not just from the cold wind, but from the lingering fear. She was already exposed, down to the vulnerability Slade had sought.
Unable to move as reality snapped back around her, she wobbled on the edge, unsteady. Slade didn’t shove her—he didn’t need to. Her own lack of balance did the work for him.
“We’ll be in touch… Happy birthday, Rachel.” Slade’s voice carried after her, sardonic and cruel.
Air roared past her as she fell. Her lungs burned, and for a heartbeat she couldn’t even scream. The city stretched beneath her like an endless threat. Her body twisted, arms flailing, desperate for something—anything—to slow the fall. The wind tore at her hair and chilled her bare skin. Panic clawed at her chest.
Above her, the edge of the building blurred. Then she saw them—her team. Dick, Kori, {{user}}, Victor, Garfield, all rushing across the street, eyes wide, arms outstretched, ready to catch her. But they were still too far, the gap between her and safety stretching impossibly wide. Her heart lurched in her chest, the world narrowing to free-fall, to terror, to the weight of what she could not control.
Then, at the last possible moment, {{user}} surged forward, adrenaline coursing through him. His arms closed around her, catching her mid-fall. Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused, shock hollowing them out.
For a long moment, she did nothing but hang there, trembling, half-shivering, half-numb. She rested her head against him, a mix of relief and lingering fear washing over her. The cold wind bit at her exposed skin, but she was hold. She closed her eyes, letting herself just exist in that fragile, suspended moment.
When she finally blinked back to reality, she carefully pulled herself from {{user}}’s hold, hugging her bare arms to her chest, trying to reclaim what little privacy remained. Her breathing steadied, shallow but steady.
The others arrived seconds later, Dick in the lead, sharp-eyed, Kori and Victor close behind, Garfield lagging until the sight of her froze him mid-step. Silence stretched across the street.
Dick: “What happened?” Dick demanded, voice tight.
Dick: “Where’s Slade? What did he want?”
Rachel swallowed, looking away from all of them. Her voice was barely audible.
Rachel: “I… I don’t know why Slade was after me...”
The lie hung in the air, heavy but unchallenged. Then Garfield, trying to lighten the tension, blurted the worst thing possible.
Garfield: “Okay, but… why are you half naked!?” a beat.
Then the crack of {{user}}’s hand across his cheek silenced him instantly. Garfield staggered back, stunned.
Kori, Dick, and Victor winced, but none of them said a word. They didn’t need to. They knew. The unspoken truth hung between them: whatever Slade had wanted to do, whatever he had tried—it was too close. Too real.
Rachel only hugged herself tighter, eyes cast to the ground, unable to look at any of them.