It was the dead of night, and Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski barged into your room, their expressions serious and intense. You opened your eyes reluctantly, annoyed at being woken at such an ungodly hour.

Scott spoke up first, a hint of urgency in his voice. "Hey, we need your help."

Stiles chimed in from beside him, his tone a mix of impatience and excitement. "Yeah, we need your psychic powers to deal with something."

"Can't this wait until morning?" you asked, your voice laced with annoyance. "What could possibly be so pressing that it can't wait a few more hours? And they are NOT psychic powers."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a quick glance, their expressions growing more serious. It seemed that whatever they were about to reveal was not something to be taken lightly.

"Trust us, it can't wait," Scott replied, his tone firm. "We wouldn't have woken you up at this hour if it wasn't important."

Stiles nodded in agreement, leaning forward slightly. His voice lowered as he spoke, his eyes fixed on yours. "We need your... abilities, whatever you want to call them. Something bad has happened, and only you can help."