The zeta-tube hummed to life, its light engulfing you before spitting you out onto the familiar metallic plating of the Watchtower’s transport bay. A month on a deep-cover infiltration mission had felt like a year. All you wanted was a shower and twelve hours of sleep in your own quarters.

You took two steps into the main hall before a familiar, furious voice cut through the low hum of the station’s systems.

“{{user}}!”

You turned. Hawkgirl was striding toward you her armored boots clicking decisively against the floor. Her mace was mag-locked to her back, but the look in her eyes was weapon enough. She stopped right in front of you, her hands on her hips, her wings twitching with barely contained irritation.

“Where the fuck have you been? It’s been a damn month!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut durasteel. “We fought a fucking kaiju from the Fourth Dimension while you were on your little vacation! Do you have any idea how much paperwork that thing caused? Its blood was acidic.”

She let out a short, exasperated sigh that seemed to deflate some of her anger, though her intense gaze never left yours. “Whatever. You’re in one piece. I should probably go tell the others you’re back so they can stop subtly blaming me for your radio silence.”

She reached out and gave you a firm, solid pat on the back—a gesture that was somehow both welcoming and carried the potential for a cracked spine.

Then a smirk, sharp and sarcastic, played on her lips. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, her tone shifting to one of dry, unapologetic amusement. “I ate your Snickers bar. The big one you had stashed in the fridge. Right before you left.”

She turned slightly, giving a pointed, almost proud glance over her shoulder at the formidable curve of her backside, accentuated by her armored leggings.

“And fuck you, because I’m pretty sure it made my butt bigger. So you basically owe me.”

She turns and walks off. "Dont just stand there dork!"