Brace yourselves.

When the cell door finally opened and half a dozen guards spilled inside, Wally decided to fight. Not the showy punch-them-once-and-run-away style of fighting he had patented, but the teeth baring, knuckle splitting, kick, rip and bite sort of fighting. He attacked like an injured animal with nowhere left to run, and it was half true: there was nowhere for him to go, and it made him desperate. It made him dangerous.

Despite this, the fight did not last long. Wally found himself on the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades, a gun barrel to his throat, and a lazy trickle of blood coming from his nose. They handcuffed him and pulled him to his feet. Something metal jabbed him in the back, and Wally was half walked, half dragged out of the cell, a guard on either side holding him up.

Although ninety nine percent of him was sure that the rest of the team was never coming, he still scoured the concrete hallways for signs of their presence, kept his ears pricked for their voices. And although he felt very much like he was walking to his execution, the Chance card Artemis had left for him was curled up in Wally's closed palm.

If anything, he had hope. And if not that, he trusted Artemis.

Or he hoped he did.

After several minutes, the guards stopped outside a pair of heavy looking steel doors. They pushed him inside and Wally blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of the room. It was spacious, with a high ceiling, white painted walls and a tiled floor. The significance of the flooring was made clear when he spotted the metal grate in the corner. He wondered how many other innocent people had been shot in this room, their life's blood washed down that same drain. Wally could smell it, coppery and foul in the air and it made him want to fall to his knees and vomit.

But before he could do anything, the guards tightened their grip on his arms and pushed him towards the centre of the room. At the other end, stood Sportsmaster.

"Anything you'd like to say before you die, kid?" He asked, every word gloating at Wally.

The speedster just stared him down for a minute, then spat. A glob of bloody phlegm splattered onto the tiles between them, and Wally barked a harsh laugh. Anything to hide how truly terrified he was.

Sportsmaster stormed forwards, fists clenched, then stopped. Instead, he moved aside so Wally could see what had been set up behind him. A video camera, mounted on a tripod, the recording light flickering red.

"I thought I'd take the liberty of... capturing the moment." Sportsmaster said, and although his face was not visible, Wally could tell he was grinning. "After all, there are so many people that are wondering where you've been, it would be a shame not to let them know what a great time we've had together."

"Yeah, I was worried they'd gotten the wrong impression." Wally said dryly, using his words as a distraction from his hands, which were currently pushing the Chance card into the lock on his handcuffs. He hoped that the guards behind him, at the back of the room, did not notice. Trading words with Sportsmaster also gave him time to pick said lock, and more than anything, Wally needed time.

But before he could say anything else, the doors at the end of the room burst open, and Wally whipped his head around to see Artemis, accompanied by two more guards. He felt himself light up, then fear struck when he saw the bow in her hand, the quiver on her back full of arrows. Her eyes refused to meet his.

"Nice of you to join us, baby girl." Her father greeted her.

"I was busy." Artemis replied cooly. Still, she would not look Wally in the eye.

"Well, it would be a shame for you to miss this opportunity. Figuratively or literally." Sportsmaster said, then turned to Wally.

"If you try anything, my men will fire."

"No offence, but your trained monkeys couldn't hit a tree in a forest, let alone a moving target." Wally said, working at the chance card, trying to twist it to unlock the cuffs. He realised then that even if he did manage to get his hands free, there was nowhere to go. He was surrounded, outmanned, outgunned and as a bonus, now everybody in the room apart from Artemis looked thoroughly pissed at him.

"Woah guys, take it easy." Wally continued. "It's just constructive criticism."

"Unless you have anything of importance to say," Sportsmaster said. "You can shut up."

He was so close, Wally could feel the lock shifting, he just had to delay a little while longer. A tiny part of him still believed in Artemis, but he had stopped trying to catch her eye when she never caught his.

"No no no, hang on." He stalled. "I'm curious- how long have you been into home videos?"

Sportsmaster looked impatient.

"Nice try, but we aren't wasting any more time here."

Wally's heart sank. The lock was as immovable as it had been before he tried picking it. He was out of time.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He shrugged.

Sportsmaster took a step back. "You're up, baby girl." He said to Artemis.

Slowly, Artemis reached behind her, and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Dread sank its claws into Wally's chest. He knew how sharp those arrows were, he knew how long Artemis had spent sharpening them. He knew how easily they would slide between his ribs.

Artemis slotted the arrow into her bow, and raised it.

I trusted you, thought Wally, but he was too scared to be angry. Just disappointed.

Panic made Wally's heart speed up until he felt his pulse in his eardrums. He closed his eyes, thinking it would help, but it just made the tension more unbearable.

Think of something else, Wally thought, and immediately he was met with the faces of his teammates. They'd be first to see the camera footage. He could imagine them now- it would break them apart, and Rob- Dick, he would take it the worst.

Wally opened his eyes.

Artemis had drawn back the bowstring, the fletching of the arrow brushing against her cheek.

The silence roared, and Wally let out a shaky breath.

It's okay, he told himself. Just breathe.

He thought of his parents. Their relationship with him was strained at best, but he could still picture how it would feel, losing a son.

And Aunt Iris- no. Wally didn't dare imagine her face when the inevitable news came.

Uncle Barry would be the one to tell her, oh god, he'd be distraught.

He'd blame himself for what had happened.

Back in the present, Wally steeled himself.

He wondered how Artemis' hands stayed so steady.

I'm sorry, he thought.

The arrow was aimed at his throat.

I am so, so sorry.

Wally's breathing quickened, his heart hammering at his chest as the silence reached a crescendo.

Artemis fired.