Prompt 14: Broken
Set a couple hours before the beginning of 'Betrothed'.

Cyborg didn't expect to see her up this early. Raven, maybe. But Starfire? Four in the morning never really seemed like something that would appeal to her. Hell, he'd only crawled out of bed to chow down on some food and just happened to notice the hall lights leading to the training room had been switched on, and that girl liked her sleep where she could get it, especially with the sun powering her starbolts.

But she wasn't using her powers, he noticed, gazing at her from the glass pained observation deck above the Titan's training room with his hand buried in a bag full of chips. Not the ones that required sunlight, anyways. Rather, she was beating a punching bag senseless, pushing it as far as it would go before it snapped back at her, only encouraging another strike.

Cyborg leaned forward ever so slightly, watching as his friend and teammate fought—no, ravaged—the punching bag. Something was wrong. The half-robot had certainly seen Starfire train before, especially with punching bags. But there was something different about the way she was going at it this morning. There was an empty expression on her face and a vacant, almost unseeing stare. He'd never seen her look quite like that before.

Starfire took a swing at the punching bag that was a bit too much for it to handle, and it exploded before her eyes. She stared at the destroyed equipment before her with a mild sense of shock before shaking her head and moving to the next punching bag and continuing her assault on the new target without much thought. Cyborg devoured a few more chips as he watched his friend tear apart the second punching bag with the same hollow, unconcerned nature dictating her vicious blows.

There was nothing familiar about the powerful mechanical movements of the alien girl Cyborg hardly recognized below him.

The half robot noticed something flashing on one of the tables and tore his gaze away from the scene to search for the light that had caught his attention. A communicator lay open on the smooth chrome surface, and judging by the small, standard issue cell phone decal flower on one of the bright yellow edges, it belonged to Starfire. Cyborg moved to pick up the communicator and take a closer look.

Three words were displayed on the screen: RETURN HOME IMMEDIATELY.

Cyborg's eyes widened at the message. A tiny pulsating arrow indicated that there was more to it, but reading any further felt too invasive. He carefully put the communicator back where he found it and returned to the observation window. Starfire was beating away at her third bag now. Her knuckles were bloodied and shredded at best. And if Cyborg's magnified vision wasn't mistaken, the beginnings of a tear she refused to let fall lingered in the corner of her eye.

She punched and punched and punched.

I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand.
-Let Me Go/Three Doors Down-