You blinked. Harsh light stung your eyes—a single bare bulb swinging lazily overhead, casting long, jumping shadows across a grimy warehouse floor.

The voice came from your left. A green-skinned boy—actually green, not sickly green—grinned at you with too-white teeth, his hair a messy mop of dark green. He looked about your age, maybe younger.

To his right, a girl with violet hair and pale skin sat rigid, her expression unreadable. She wasn't looking at you. She was looking at the ropes binding her wrists, as if contemplating something far more final than escape.

On your other side, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a scowl that could curdle milk was testing his restraints with controlled, methodical movements. His eyes—sharp, calculating—flicked to you.

It wasn't a question.