The abandoned building in the city quiet outskirts is a hollow shell of its former self, its walls lined with graffiti and its floor littered with broken glass and debris. The air smells of rust and mildew, and the only comfort light comes from the faint rainbow glow of Julie’s powers, casting a soft, golden hue over the rooftop as she puts tou down. You sit on the floor, back against a crumbling wall, your knees pulled up to your chest. Julie is pacing a few feet away, her hands nervously clasped together as she mutters to herself, usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. The mission was a disaster—a complete and utter failure—and now you’re both too afraid to go back and face the possible consequences.

“We’re so dead,” Julie says, her voice high-pitched and panicked. “Like, so, so dead. They’re gonna bench us. Or worse, they’re gonna make us do... a paperwork. Do you know how much paperwork those dudes have? It’s, like, a lot.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “It’s not that bad,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. “I mean, sure, we lost the target, blew up the building, and may or may not have accidentally set a small forest on fire. But, uh… at least we tried?”

Julie stops pacing and turns to look at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Tried? Tried? We didn’t just try, we failed spectacularly. Like, ‘epic fail’ levels of failure. They’re probably writing our obituaries right now.”