Jason stepped into the grimy bar, eyes narrowing at the dim lighting and the smell of stale alcohol. His boots made no sound on the wooden floor as he scanned the room. Beside him, Roy exhaled in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair.

“This is it, Jay. I can feel it,” Roy muttered, his tone a mix of relief and dread. After months of searching, every lead had been dead, every effort feeling like chasing ghosts. But now, they were here, at the very bar Black Mask controlled. This was where they’d tracked their missing friend.

Jason glanced at Roy, voice low, almost cold. “If they’ve been here all this time… What’s left of them?” The worry behind his words was buried but evident.

They made their way to the bar, spotting the familiar figure behind it. The person moved with practiced precision, mixing drinks for rowdy customers.

{{user}}—what remained of them—was a shadow of their former self. The eyes that had once been sharp were now dull, lifeless. The smile they gave the next customer was automatic, void of any warmth. They didn’t even look up when Roy and Jason approached.

Roy’s heart sank. “No way…” he whispered, gripping the edge of the bar, knuckles white.

Jason, ever the impulsive one, slammed his hand down on the counter, making the bartender flinch. “Hey. You—” He froze as their friend’s gaze lifted to meet his. The eyes were still familiar, but the person who owned them wasn’t. There was no recognition, no sign of memory. Just blankness.

"Welcome! How can I help you?" the voice was hollow, robotic.

Jason’s throat tightened, words stuck. Roy couldn’t hold it in any longer. His fists clenched as he stepped forward, eyes blazing. “We’re not here to drink. We’re here to get you out of this hellhole. You don’t belong here.”

{{user}} just laughed. “Sure, whatever. You want a drink?”