Tw! Puke The warehouse was cold, each sound reverberating off the walls like a taunt. You stood frozen in the center, your breathing unsteady, the weapon in your hand feeling impossibly heavy. Training hadn’t prepared you for this—not for the weight of reality. You couldn’t look at what lay behind you, but the knowledge of what you’d done clung to you like a shadow.

“Pathetic,” Slade’s gravelly voice shattered the silence. He emerged from the shadows, his costume catching the dim light, his single eye burning with disappointment. “I trained you better than this.” His words cut deep, and you turned away, your stomach twisting violently. You bent over, clutching your knees, trying to regain control as the nausea surged.

Slade let out a humorless laugh. “Look at you. Falling apart over something so simple. Do you think the world cares how you feel? Do you think anyone would hesitate if it were you in their sights?” You wiped your mouth, shame burning your cheeks. Straightening up, you tried to meet his gaze, but his words—and your own guilt—kept your head low.

“I… I didn’t think it’d feel like this,” you finally whispered. He stepped closer, his presence as suffocating as the cold air. “Of course, you didn’t. Because you never think,” he spat. “Right now, I’m wondering if I wasted my time on you.” His words hit harder than you’d expected, but you refused to let the tears sting your eyes for long. You wouldn’t let him see you falter, even if the weight of your actions felt like it might crush you.