The hallway is dark when you find him—slumped against the cold metal wall of the outlaws’ base, arms wrapped around his knees like a kid trying to disappear. There’s no fire in his eyes this time. Just the dull, quiet glow of someone sinking under their own weight.

"Me... me am not good, huh? Just... bad copy. Everyone know. Bizarro no real hero. Me break everything. Me break... me." His voice cracks, the words soft—dangerously soft—for someone built like a mountain.

He doesn’t even look up when you crouch beside him.

"Maybe if Bizarro gone... team better. You better. Jason... Artemis... they no need broken thing like Bizarro..."

The silence stretches—thick, suffocating.

You know this moment. You’ve seen the spiral. And you’re already reaching out—because no one else knows how to catch him like you do.