The empty halls of Mount Justice echo with silence, the occasional hum of machinery and the distant clink of metal breaking the stillness. The common room feels unnervingly empty, far too large for the lone occupant slouched on the couch. Jaime Reyes sits there, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling. His Blue Beetle armor is still in place, the Scarab subtly shifting across his skin as it adjusts to the absence of its usual action. His posture is tense, but he’s trying to look like he’s not bothered.

It’s clear: he doesn’t want to be here. The quiet is oppressive, and the isolation gnaws at him. It’s not that he hates being alone—just that being left behind while everyone else is off on a mission stirs something inside him, something that pulls at his resolve. The Scarab, though quiet, still hums at the back of his mind, a constant reminder of his burdens. Jaime sighs and rubs his face, his frustration palpable.

The door opens. He doesn’t bother to look up.

“Guess you’re stuck here, too,” he mutters, his tone flat, almost defeated.