“Robin!” I wheezed, gasping for air. “What’s...your...problem?” He was going to suffocate me, I was going to die a brutal death...No, I told myself. I had to keep a clear head, a near impossible task when I was slowly losing oxygen. Be calm, I thought. I gathered myself, counted to three in my head, and lunged upward, trying to flip him over. His arms tightened, and he stared into my eyes. There was something wrong, I realized, with his eyes. They were dull and empty, and there was a darkness to them, like a shaded demon was lurking deep within, thrashing violently and trying to push its way out. The irises, although still blue, had occasional flashes of red, and the pupils were wide. He snarled as he stared down at my terrified form. He had loosened his grip slightly, so I could breathe a little easier, but I knew he had no intention of letting go. I was about to try to flip him over again, when suddenly he was knocked off of my chest by someone. That someone was Fin.
“Robin!” she shrieked, faint notes of hysteria audible in her voice. “What do you think you’re doing? That’s Aisling that you just almost killed! What were you doing?”
Robin didn’t answer, but then again, I don’t think either of us expected him to. He turned to glare at her, and she let out a scream. “His eyes?” I asked, when she had run out of breath.
She shook her head. “Not just that. Aisling, I think they got to him. I think he’s...” She struggled to say the words. “Aisling, he’s possessed. I tried to get a reading, his mind, you know, but there was nothing. They have him.”
As the meaning of what she said began to sink in, there was a loud bump from the other end of the room, which had been shrouded in darkness, followed by ominous footsteps. It was quite a large room, I realized, although I couldn’t judge the distance, but it was almost thirty seconds before the owner of the footsteps stepped into the light. It was a man, a scrawny, ratty looking man with a dark buzz cut and a grizzled, scarred face. His eyes were beady and reddish, one looked almost swollen shut, and his mouth was a faint line, broken by a deep scar that ran down the side of his face. Fin was on the ground now, Robin had sprung on her and had both hands pressing deep into her neck; and I was still sprawled where he had attacked me, feeling too weak to stand up. Fin was staring up at the man with an expression of defiance, which looked somewhat out of place considering her situation. After a few moments, he spoke.
“Good job. You have done well.” His voice was gravelly and low, and his mouth hardly moved when he talked. I realized his comment was addressed at Robin, although it was barely acknowledged.
“I have some...business...to address. Finish her.” This time, Robin seemed to have understood, because he sprung into action. He was tightening his grip on her throat when, with an indignant shriek, Fin sprung up, using the maneuver that I had attempted earlier and flipping him over onto his back. What happened next, I never knew, because my view was obscured by the man. Within moments, and before I could react, he was on me, pressing his hands into my chest, not so hard as to suffocate me, but hard enough that I could not move, and could barely breathe. I kicked my legs to try to break free, but to no avail. He leaned forward, and I saw in his beady eyes the same darkness that Robin’s possessed. “It’s time,” he hissed, and slipped out of his pocket a long needle and a coil of rope, similar to the electrified bonds that had tied me earlier. I stopped struggling, remembering the pain that the ropes inflicted, and he gave a slight smile. “Perfect...” he muttered, and, while wrapping me with one hand, drove the needle deep into my skull. The ropes surged, but it felt distant, like it was happening miles away, and everything went black.

When I awoke I felt different, there was no other way to describe it. I felt strangely strong, and, even odder still, happy. But more significantly, I felt the longing for blood. I stood up, and spied the others over in the corner. For some odd reason, I did not remember their names. I began to walk towards them. No! a part of me was saying. I can’t hurt them! But an even stronger voice, one that I couldn’t tell if it was my own, or someone else’s entirely, overruled it. They are the enemy. They have hurt me. It’s time for revenge.
They were still locked in a tussle, oblivious to everything else going on around them. One second the boy was pinning the girl down, hands squeezing her neck, and the next, she had flipped him over and was attacking him, her dark hair flying with her fists. I stood behind them for a few moments, watching their petty battle, and then swooped in. The girl screamed, a look of sheer terror on her face, but I knocked the boy, whom I determined to be her brother, aside and pressed her flat against the ground. She tried to flip upward, but I was ready, and countered it by smashing her hard on the solid floor. She gave a squeal of pain, which I ignored.
“Aisling!” she cried hysterically. “What are you doing? Snap out of it! You’re gonna kill me!”
I grasped her throat, digging my nails deep into her skin. Blood began to flow now, warm, sticky blood that coated my hands and dribbled down her chest. I welcomed it like an old friend.
I was debating when to go in for the kill, when suddenly a strong jet of water knocked me to the ground. It burned my skin, reopening the cuts that I had received from the electrified ropes earlier, which had been closed before, and blood spurted out. The dark-haired girl was shrieking, and when the stream of water had lessened, I struggled to my feet to face the attacker. It was a dark-skinned boy, fairly tall and with pale, short hair. A glowing blue band of light was wrapped around his arms, which ended in solid light, or whatever the substance was, gripped in his hands. The dark-haired girl screamed again. “Aqualad! What are you doing? You’re attacking our teammate!”
The boy shook his head solemnly. “That’s not her. It is her body, but not her mind. She’s been taken over.”
The girl let out a wail, and fell to her knees. I realized she was crying, amidst the shrieks and moans of agony, but I felt no sympathy. “First Robin, now Aisling! What’s happening to us?”
Suddenly she looked up to the ceiling, and I followed her gaze. The boy had ripped a large hole when he had burst through, and now four more kids were falling through, landing with a thump on the ground. They advanced forward, realizing what was going on, and were soon on me. There was a girl with a long, somewhat puffy blonde ponytail, a girl with green skin who was hovering about a foot off the ground, and two boys. The blonde girl was holding a loaded bow and as I watched, she pulled the string back and let the arrow fly. I couldn’t move; I was paralyzed, and praying that she would miss, even though something told me she wouldn’t. Within moments, the arrow hit, and I was knocked into blackness.