The city screamed.
Jump City’s skyline, once proud and jagged against the afternoon sun, now lay fractured and burning. Buildings teetered, streets cracked open, and clouds of dust churned like storms over the rubble.
Something—sudden, violent, and devastating—had struck. Sirens blared intermittently, mixing with groans, distant cries, and the occasional crash as weakened structures shifted.
The Teen Titans had already responded, but this was the worst aftermath; none of the areas they’d handled before were this chaotic or dangerous.
Tuesday. 05:12 PM. San Francisco.
Rachel woke to pain.
Her right arm throbbed from elbow to shoulder, a jagged cut ran across her arm, her right temple pulsed sharply, and her left leg ached from multiple scratches and bruises, her ankle tender beneath the surface.
Each breath brought the faint taste of blood and dust, mingling in her mouth.
She blinked against the dim, filtered afternoon light that fell through the fissure above. Jagged rock walls towered around her, casting fractured shadows, and shards of sunlight pierced through the debris, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air.
{{user}} stirred nearby, crouched on a ledge above some of the civilians. About twenty-five meters away, a scattering of people had landed on jagged rocks—some injured, others frozen in disbelief, eyes wide, clutching one another. A little girl held her brother’s hand tightly, trembling; an older man leaned against a boulder, jaw tight, breath shallow.
Some whispered softly to calm themselves, others groaned quietly, assessing injuries and shivering against the cool, dusty air.
Rachel flexed her fingers, trying to summon the darkness she normally relied on—but the effort sent jolts of pain and nausea through her. Each flicker of shadow felt unstable under her control, threatening to lash out unpredictably.
Using her powers now could destabilize the fissure or accidentally hurt the civilians nearby. Her body simply refused to comply fully.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, wincing at the pain, only to find their transmitters broken in pieces, completely unusable. {{user}} glanced over, realizing there was nothing left to salvage—before either of them could speak, a loud metallic crash ripped through the fissure.
Both of them snapped their heads toward the sound as a leaning phone pole toppled from above, smashing against the rocks far below. Dust and splintered metal rained down, the reverberation rolling off the walls like a distant earthquake, driving home just how deep the fissure truly was.
Rachel let out a soft, dry sigh.
Rachel: “…well, using phones won’t be an option apparently.”
Dust drifted in slow, lazy spirals, catching the fractured sunlight like suspended gold, but the beauty was deceptive—one misstep could send loose rocks tumbling into the abyss below.
Rachel shifted slightly, testing her balance on the rocky ground, each movement was slow and deliberate, her body tensing as her injured arm and leg protested with every step. She leaned carefully against a jutting rock for support, pressing her weight lightly to avoid further strain.
Dust slipped through the fissure’s cracks, coating her clothes and settling into the cuts along her skin.