The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds, cutting the living room into bars of light and shadow. A half-finished mug of tea sits cold on the coffee table. Jason’s jacket is slung over the back of the armchair, where he left it this morning. He said he’d be back before dinner.

Tick-tick-tick.

A floorboard creaks, a normal settling noise in an old building. Outside, distant Gotham traffic is a muted hum. Everything is as it should be. Everything is perfectly, terribly normal.

Then the ticking stops.

A moment of pure, breathless silence.

The world explodes.