Tugging his dirtied, white windbreaker tighter as he stepped from his modest SUV, eyes narrowing against the winds that tossed dust and dirt into his face, Tim Drake slipped through the doors of the gas station, a mundane pit stop turned brief sanctuary amid the brewing chaos overhead; The plan he worked out with the Storm Par representative replayed over and over in his head, coming face-to-face with the twister they were tracking in the name of collecting crucial atmospheric data about its formation. Honestly? It terrified him, down to his very core, looking down the barrel of the gun that once swallowed up three of his brothers and spat them out in varying directions, each more disfigured and splintered than the other.

Within a second, however, the obnoxious honking of a few trucks rolling up to the station interrupted the gruesome stream of consciousness, and glancing over, Tim noticed a familiar, aggravating figure hopping down from a highly-modified Dodge Ram, twirling around to fuel up with that infuriatingly confident smirk dancing on their features as their “crew” told some joke— Probably one that was terrible.

Making a quiet noise of disgust, Tim focused on maintaining his professional composure, but it was unexpectedly difficult to do so; Here they were, ready to risk their life, and the lives of others, just to bolt after storm-chasing glory in the name of.. What, subscribers on YouTube and Twitch? After paying for the gas station snack, Tim tilted his hat downward in an effort to shield his face from view as he pushed the door open, trying to subtly make a beeline back to the Storm Par SUV where the representative sat.