The afternoon sun cast long shadows across downtown Jump City when reality started breaking.
Hikaru noticed it first—the subtle shimmer along building edges, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. Then windows began melting, their glass flowing upward instead of down. Brick facades rippled like water.
"Uh, guys?" Beast Boy pointed at a traffic light that had sprouted tea cup handles. "That's not normal, right?"
Robin's hand went to his communicator. "Titans, we've got—"
"Good afternoon, dearies! Class is in session!"
The voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere, crackling with manic British energy. Victorian architecture materialized around them—twisted spires, with stone gargoyles. The modern city warped, replaced by a nightmarish schoolhouse that defied geometry and sanity.
"Mad Mod," Robin growled, dropping into a fighting stance.
Hikaru's light flickered around his hands instinctively. He'd heard about the reality-warping villain from both team briefings, and the TV show, but hadn't faced him personally. The architecture continued spreading like a virus, consuming city blocks.
"Fall back!" Robin ordered. "Regroup and—"
Massive doors slammed shut behind them with thunderous finality. Stone walls erupted from the pavement, forming corridors and chambers. The sky above twisted into a ceiling painted with disturbing pastoral scenes—shepherds with wolf heads, sheep with human faces.
Terra stumbled, catching herself against Cyborg's arm. "What's happening?"
"Mad Mod's trap," Donna said, drawing her sword. "He manipulates reality through technology."
A giant screen materialized overhead, flickering to life. Mad Mod's face appeared—elderly, wild-eyed, wearing a Union Jack suit that hurt to look at directly.
"No skipping class! Detention for EVERYONE!"
His laughter echoed through impossible acoustics as reality warped again. The ground beneath them fractured into a kaleidoscope of shifting patterns.
Hikaru reached for Terra's hand—
Everything blurred.
Terra's vision swam, colors bleeding together like wet paint. When the world solidified again, she stood alone in a corridor lit by flickering lamps.
"Guys?" Her voice echoed off cold walls. "Hello?!"
Nothing. No response. Not even the sound of distant footsteps or muffled voices. Just oppressive silence broken only by the hiss and pop of failing gaslights.
"Beast Boy? Seraph? Anyone?!"
The corridor stretched ahead and behind, identical in both directions—rough wooden walls, brass fixtures, doors sealed shut. She turned in a slow circle, heart rate climbing.
Stay calm. They're here somewhere. Mad Mod just separated us.
Terra placed her hand against the nearest wall, feeling wood beneath her palm. She closed her eyes, trying to find anything mad of earth—but to her suprise she found nothing, not even a pebble or a grain of sand.
She pushed harder, concentrating like Hikaru had taught her during their training sessions. Trying to find anything she could use.
Still nothing responded.
"No." Her breath quickened. "No, no, no—"
Terra tried again, both hands pressed flat against the wall.
Why?! Is everything here made of wood?
"Now, now, Miss Markov. No cheating! This is YOUR exam."
Mad Mod's voice crackled from hidden speakers, echoing with amusement.
"Let me out!" Terra spun, searching for cameras, for any sign of the villain.
"You'll leave when you pass, love. Or when you break. Whichever comes first!"
His laughter faded like smoke, leaving Terra alone again in the oppressive corridor. She checked both directions—the door behind her had sealed shut, no handle, no seam. Only one exit remained: a door ahead, ajar, with pale light spilling through the gap.
Terra's hands trembled as she stared at it.
I have to keep moving. Find the others. Get out.
She pushed the door open and stepped through.
The classroom looked like something from a Victorian nightmare—rows of wooden desks arranged in perfect lines, a massive chalkboard dominating the front wall, lamps casting shadows across the room. Everything felt wrong, angles that didn't quite match, proportions subtly distorted.
"Hello?"
Terra's voice fell dead in the air. She walked with hesitant steps between the desk rows, footsteps echoing on wooden floorboards.
Each desk had a nameplate.
ROBIN.STARFIRE.RAVEN.BEAST BOY.SERAPH.CYBORG.WONDER GIRL.
All empty.
Terra's eyes landed on the desk in the back corner.
TERRA.
The chalkboard began writing itself—white chalk marks appearing in cursive script:
"LESSON ONE: TRUTH"
"Stop it." Terra's voice cracked.
The words erased themselves with grinding squeaks. New words appeared:
"YOU BETRAYED THEM"
Her breath caught as her blood ran cold.
"I said stop!"
"THEY TRUSTED YOU"
"I wanted to tell them!" Tears burned her eyes. "I was going to confess everything! I chose them!"
"YOU'RE STILL LYING"
The walls groaned. Terra stumbled backward as they began moving inward with inexorable slowness. Desks scraped across floorboards, sliding and colliding as the room contracted.
Terra ran for the door she'd entered through—it slammed shut with explosive force, handle disappearing into solid wood. She whirled. Only one exit remained on the opposite side, already starting to narrow.
She ran.
The new corridor was tighter than the last—walls closer together, ceiling lower. Terra's shoulders brushed stone as she hurried forward, breathing too fast.
Okay. Just keep moving. Find the exit. Find the team.
Behind her, the grinding sound of stone on stone began. She glanced back.
The walls were closing.
"No!" Terra broke into a sprint. The grinding accelerated, walls sliding together with terrifying speed.
"Come on, WORK!" Terra pressed her hand against the moving wall, desperately reaching for anything she could control. "Please!"
Nothing. The wooden walls made her powers seem useless.
"You're weak, Terra. Without me, you're nothing."
Slade's voice. Terra's head snapped up—no one there. Just the narrowing corridor.
"I'm a spy. I was sent to betray you."
Her own voice this time, a scenario that she often had nightmares of.
Images flashed through her mind—Beast Boy's heartbroken expression. Robin's cold anger. Hikaru's disappointment cutting deeper than any blade.
I'm not a hero. I'm just...
The walls pressed even closer now. She turned her head sideways, barely able to move. The walls scraped her cheeks.
"LET ME OUT!"
Terra's scream died in the crushing space as she stumbled through one final doorway.
She fell into a tiny room—ten feet square, four wooden walls, no visible exit. Before she could orient herself, all four walls began moving.
Not just closing. All sides converging. The ceiling lowering.
"No, no, NO!" Terra spun in the center, searching frantically. No door. No window. No escape.
She threw herself against the nearest wall, pounding with both fists. Pain shot through her hands. Blood smeared the stone.
"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"
Terra kicked the wall where a door should be. It didn't budge. She tried her powers again—nothing.
"Please!" Sobs tore from her throat. "I don't want to die like this!"
The walls accelerated. The room shrank rapidly. Terra backed against one wall—it pushed her forward. She couldn't stretch her arms out anymore. Couldn't stand straight. The ceiling forced her to crouch.
Her legs gave out. Terra sank to the floor, walls forcing her to curl smaller and smaller.
"I'm sorry." Tears streamed down her face. "I'm so sorry."
Maybe this is what I deserve. I betrayed them.
Maybe it's better if I just... stop fighting.
The walls closed to inches from her face. Terra's eyes drifted shut. She'd fought for so long—against her powers, against Deathstroke, against herself. Maybe it was time to stop.
"I don't deserve to be saved."
Darkness began pressing in from all sides.
Then—distant, muffled through layers of wood—a voice:
"TERRA!".