The city streets were quiet, deceptively calm, as you had tracked Dr. Crane on what was supposed to be a routine solo mission. At first, it seemed simple enough—follow the trail, gather intel, and meet back with the team. But something in the shadows had been waiting. Before you could react, a series of calculated traps ensnared you, and the world blurred into chaos. Pain, confusion, and fear mingled as you realized you were no longer in control.

When your teammates arrived, the aftermath of the ambush was immediate and crushing. Artemis’ bow was still taut in her hands, her eyes scanning the scene with a mix of relief and horror, but that relief quickly gave way to dread. “We’re too late,” she whispered, her voice tight, choked with the kind of sadness that comes from the weight of impossibility. A few tears betrayed the stoic exterior she always tried to maintain.

Beast Boy, ever the optimist even in dire moments, couldn’t help himself. His voice rang with disbelief and hope. “No, we didn’t! They’re alive!” he shouted, almost bouncing in place, refusing to accept the grim reality before him. His green features were stretched with an excitement that clashed violently with the tension in the air.

Zatanna hovered slightly, her hands subtly weaving faint protective wards, sensing the lingering threads of the scientist’s work that still clung to you. Miss Martian’s expression was torn—her mind reached out to you psychically, trying to grasp for life where it seemed impossibly fragile. Superboy’s fists clenched at his sides, a storm of rage and frustration brewing behind his usually calm demeanor. Even with all their combined strength, the palpable tension in the air told them they were too late to stop the events that had already unfolded.

But despite the devastation, there was a spark, faint and precarious, that refused to extinguish. Somewhere beneath the chaos, beneath the edges of fear and despair, there was still a chance. The team’s voices, their presence, and their unyielding determination formed a cord pulling against the darkness that had consumed you. Each step closer they took was an affirmation that, even in the worst moments, they refused to give up.

In that fragile space between life and loss, they could only hope—the tiniest sliver of hope—that you were still there, waiting to fight your way back.