You press your forehead to the cool glass of the zeta-tube chamber, watching the shimmer of energy as the last of your teammates beam away for the day. Laughter still hangs in the air — Kaldur’s low rumble, Wally’s quick, bright chirps, even teasing jabs of Arthemis about who would get the best spot at the pier. They’re going into the city, just for one day, to breathe, to feel normal, to remind themselves they’re teenagers as well as heroes.

And you? You’ve been told to stay back.

Batman had said it bluntly during debrief: you were falling behind in the more “serious” drills, and you needed the extra hours with the simulator, hand-to-hand repetitions, and tactical reviews. “A day off is earned,” he’d said in that sharp tone that made you shrink even though you tried not to. You hadn’t argued, not really — but now the Cave is silent and the weight of training sits on your chest like a slab of concrete.

You pull on your jacket, heart thudding with every step toward the exit. You aren’t running away, you tell yourself — just… taking a break. Taking a page from Conner’s book, because if he were here, he’d have already been halfway to the nearest burger place.

You’re halfway through the hangar when metallic whir catches your ear.

“Where are you going?”

Red Tornado’s voice is calm, neutral, but somehow it cuts through the cavernous space like a blade. You freeze mid-step, hand still on the latch to the outside. Turning slowly, you see him standing near the control console, cloak hanging in perfect folds, glowing eyes fixed on you.

You swallow hard. “I was just getting some air.”

He tilts his head. The gesture is small, but something about it makes your throat tighten. Red Tornado doesn’t accuse. He doesn’t scold. He just waits. The silence stretches, heavy, until you start to fidget.

“You are leaving the Cave,” he finally says. “Without authorization.”

You feel heat rise to your face. But they all got to go out. Just for a day. You haven’t been anywhere that wasn’t a training room in weeks. You throw your hands out, searching for words.

He steps closer, and you’re struck by how quiet he is. “You believe you are being treated unfairly,” he says.

Your throat tightens more. The words sound childish when you hear them aloud, but they’re true.