Michael twisted in place, clothes catching on the surrounding branches as he peered uselessly through the brush. Thick shadows cloaked the woods, leaving him trapped in a tiny bubble of darkening greenery. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn't pick out the source of the signal. Heart racing, Michael slowly sunk into a crouch. Among the dense foliage, he should have been practically invisible. He just needed to stay still and stay silent. With eyes clenched shut, he focused on the nearby sensation, the only indication that he wasn't alone.

The pull grew stronger.

Michael's eyes opened. The tinkertech was moving; its wearer picking their way through the woods just as he'd done a minute before. Had they also followed the figure in the sky? If they were trying to get closer to the heroes, there was an uncomfortable chance they'd stumble right over him. Michael's gaze flicked over the woods with increasing urgency as he grit his teeth. The newcomer was already too close—moving at this point would only make him move obvious. He could only hunker down further, hugging the ground as he shuffled one precarious inch at a time towards the nearest tree trunk. The crawl felt painfully slow, but he finally slipped behind the thick wall of wood.

His burgeoning sense of relief vanished the second Michael noticed the tinkertech had grown closer. They hadn't drifted off-course at all. Each step narrowed the distance, striding towards an inevitable confrontation, and Michael took a slow breath. He had something prepared for this. He was just an overzealous fan who wanted to get a closer look—

"Fathom?" A quiet call barely snaked through the woods.

Michael twitched, pausing as it registered. The speaker sounded more confused than anything, a sentiment he found himself suddenly sharing. He recognized the voice.

"Jolt?"

That was… not who he'd been expecting. Even as an entire new barrage of questions filled his mind, he relaxed, rising up from the ground. Only at the last second did he remember that he wasn't wearing a mask, abandoning his half-step around the tree.

"What are you doing here?" Jolt asked, echoing Michael's own thoughts. "Swallow should have said something before I left…" She trailed off, and Michael heard her take another step closer, approaching the tree he was tucked behind.

"Wait!" Michael interjected. He grimaced, pressing himself back against the tree. "I don't have a mask." On the other side of the trunk, Jolt stilled.

"Why… hang on. Fuck. You came here out of costume?" As she spoke, Jolt's incredulous tone grew suddenly tight.

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not like that. I just saw Peregrine on patrol and got curious," Michael stated. "I have no idea what the hell is going on here. That's why I'm hiding in the bushes." There was another pause as he waited for Jolt to reply. It was hard to tell, but he thought he felt her straighten through the movement of her tinkertech.

"You really aren't here for the fight?" She sounded skeptical, but less so than a moment before.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about" Michael said, and he heard a huff of amusement.

"Mm. You'll see. Any minute now. But first…" Jolt trailed off for a moment, and then there was the sound of a soft shuffle. A moment later, a folded object landed beside his feet. Behind him, he could hear Jolt withdraw a few steps.

Bending down, he picked up the cloth, shaking it loose to reveal a mask. It was definitely one of Jolt's, with the same back-and-forth stripes that he'd seen her wearing previously. She'd evidently come prepared, unlike him, and he slipped it on gratefully. The fit wasn't perfect, but it was close enough not to matter. With the fabric in place, he emerged from behind the tree.

Jolt stood with her back turned, pivoting back around as he stepped out of cover. Same as the last time he'd seen her, she was clearly on a mission. Everything on her was rugged, made for the outdoors, though this time the black and grey color palette of her costume had been replaced by dark greens and browns. Her mask was the same, but now she was also wearing proper boots.

On top of all that, Jolt was wearing the vest that he'd found at the Bastion, the source of tinkertech he'd been sensing. The throat and shoulder plates still looked a little bulky, but the rest of it fit well with the rest of her gear. Together, the ensemble looked well-suited for slipping through the woods unseen. Breaking his thoughts away from the tech, he gave Jolt a grateful nod.

"Thanks for the mask," he said, but she was already waving him off.

"It's the least I could do. I didn't realize you weren't on the mission," Jolt replied apologetically. "Was surprised to find you out here on your own."

"I didn't really plan on having to hide in the woods," Michael said, glancing down at his distinctly uncamouflaged outfit. "Apparently I didn't do it very well." At his words, Jolt hummed noncommittally.

"Anyways," Michael asked, "why exactly are you here?" Across from him, Jolt grinned. It was a wicked expression.

"Come on, take a look." Turning, she began carefully picking her way back towards the edge of the woods, pushing through the bushes as Michael followed a step behind. Together, they squatted down before a tiny gap in the plants.

Looking back out at the trailer park, it didn't seem like anything had changed. The heroes were still tied up in their discussion, and it didn't look like it was going very well. It was hard to make out the details, but their body language was visible even from Michael and Jolt's hiding spot. On one side, a large figure was leaning forwards, making sharp gestures towards their fellow teammates. Glancing to the side, Michael saw Jolt's eyes narrow at the sight.

"Remedy," she muttered. "Too slow. They haven't even started yet." Sitting back, she turned to Michael. "Have you ever wondered what happens when multiple heroes get a tip about the same bust?" Jolt asked, and Michael cocked his head.

"You'd think they would want to work together. Fight against a common enemy and all that. The problem is that Raleigh doesn't have a common enemy. The last villains to actually hold territory were driven out years ago." Jolt spared a quick glance back at the heroes. "Splintered Arms makes sure not to give them any real targets, and so instead they fight each other for scraps. It should have been a good thing—no more big villains, and the heroes can move on to a place that actually needs them.

"Instead, they're still here. Too invested in the great big companies they've built, the popularity they've gained. They each claim a chunk of the city, and then abandon the agreement as soon as it's convenient. Meanwhile, they pick fights with each other over everything from drug busts to contracts with the PRT. "

"You make it sound like they're basically a bunch of gangs," Michael said skeptically. Jolt seemed particularly emphatic, but he'd lived in the city for years. Even without paying that much attention to the cape scene, surely he would have heard of this before. Jolt wavered at his question.

"Not gangs," she conceded. "I mean, they aren't supervillains, they're just greedy. Each team wants to make the most arrests, get the best contracts with the PRT. It's all about the profit. They just don't always care what that takes. Like tonight." She glanced over towards the heroes again, and this time she shifted, focusing on the scene before them. "Speaking of. It's starting."

Michael peered once more through the bushes, and this time something had changed. Remedy had shifted, closing ranks as a rugged, reinforced truck pulled to a stop a dozen yards away. The doors opened, and costumed figures poured out. Striding forwards, they formed a loose semicircle in front of Remedy.

"And Steadfast finally arrives," Jolt murmured in dark satisfaction. "Someone isn't happy that Remedy is on their turf. Funny how that works."

Michael still wasn't completely confident in Jolt's revelation, but the two team leaders definitely didn't seem happy to see each other. Arms crossed, the two postured even as the rest of the squads lurked in the background. A few of the members on Remedy's side seemed particularly uncomfortable.

The more he looked, the more accurate Jolt's accusation seemed. He couldn't think of a single thing that would bring out another full team of heroes when one was already on-site.

"There's no way they're really going to fight, right?" Suddenly, he didn't feel quite as confident as he would have a day before.

"All of them? No, they won't go that far." Jolt sounded disappointed. "They've got an image to maintain. But a duel under the guise of a 'friendly spar?' Maybe."

Michael watched as tensions between the hero teams ratcheted higher. On Remedy's side, their leader seemed particularly animated. Verdant? Verdict? He was pretty sure it was Verdict. For the one that was supposedly in charge, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to his own team. None of them seemed very enthused. Peregrine and the other unrecognizable hero he'd seen on patrol were clustered together, occasionally turning their heads to glance at the ongoing argument. Suddenly they stirred, and Michael saw Verdict marching over to the pair. He practically grabbed the second cape, despite their obvious protests.

Michael still wasn't sure which cape it was. Remedy didn't have any capes known for their speed, and someone who could run as fast as he'd seen from the rooftop should have stood out. He glanced at Jolt, but she was leaning forward intently, scrutinizing the distant cape.

"Who's that with Verdict?" he asked, and Jolt frowned.

"I think it's Obann," she said uncertainly. "I'm pretty sure I saw his mask, but I don't know why Verdict would pick him. Even Verdict's not that dumb."

"Obann?" Michael questioned, shaking his head. "I saw whoever that is on the way here, running down the road. He was keeping pace with Peregrine. There's no way Obann could do that. Unless…"

"It's gotta be Rein's work." Jolt finished his thought. "He made something for Obann, tailored for his ridiculous reflexes." She looked down at her vest. "Some extra gear like my own, maybe."

"Are they trying to surprise Steadfast? Get a quick win?"

"With Obann?" Jolt shook her head. "No way. He hates fighting. Besides, he's another one of those capes who works best on the fringes."

"He doesn't seem particularly happy about it." Even with how far away Michael and Jolt were, Michael could tell that Obann wasn't looking forward to squaring off against Steadfast. But enthusiastic or not, it seemed like he'd be fighting. On the other side, Steadfast's chosen contender made their way forward. The leaders of each team remained in place, focused on one another, but the remaining capes backed up. As Michael watched, the two capes in the middle stopped a dozen feet apart.

The stillness broke without warning. One moment the two were standing still, the next Obann rocketed forwards, slamming into his opponent. The other cape went tumbling backwards, sliding across the grass before they scraped to a stop and scrambled to their feet. On the other side, Obann had retreated back to his starting position.

Beside him, Jolt sighed. "And there it goes," she said. "Obann wasted his chance. If he wanted this to be over quickly, he should have kept going. Knock Sentinel down and keep hitting her until she gives up. No way he's winning now." Breaking her gaze away from the fight, she glanced over at Michael, face inscrutable.

As the two capes began to slowly circle, Michael hesitated before speaking.

"You, uh, seemed more enthusiastic about this fight a minute ago," he said, and Jolt grimaced.

"I was looking forward to watching Verdict get thrashed," she said. "Not… this."

Michael turned back to the fight just in time to watch Obann dart forward again, closing the gap in an instant. This time, Sentinel was ready. She braced herself for the hit, barely budging at the impact. One arm lashed out low, and Obann's attempt to disengage was knocked into an awkward stumble. Unlike the other cape, she didn't waste the opportunity. By the time Obann managed to escape beyond her reach, he'd taken another four or five hard hits.

"He can't pull it off alone," Jolt said quietly. "Coming in from the front, when her attention is completely focused on him? The next charge is going to be his last." Perhaps Obann knew it as well, because he didn't seem eager to close the gap again. The silence stretched as Michael and Jolt watched the pair pace, step by slow step.

"Swallow asked you about joining us," Jolt stated, still staring dead ahead. It wasn't a question. Cautiously, Michael nodded.

"And you said no." Another nod.

"Are you sure?" she said, finally turning to look him square in the eyes. "Really, really sure? Because you might think you have a plan, but Swallow? Swallow knows exactly what he's doing. He's helping me get exactly what I wanted, and I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do. But that's because we're on the same side."

"I never lied to Swallow," Michael said carefully. "He knew from the start I wasn't going to fully join. It's just business." Even as he said the words, they sounded painfully weak.

"It's never just business. Like it or not, you're a cape now. In another year, is that where you want to be?" Extending an arm, Jolt pointed up the hill, and Michael couldn't resist as his gaze slid slowly back to the clustered capes.

The fight was drawing to a close. The conclusion sat in the air, almost palpable. It was in every tiny adjustment of Sentinel's raised fists. It was in every one of Obann's staggered steps, as he waited for an opening that wouldn't come. It was in the silence itself, the bated breath of the darkening woods and a small circular patch of trampled grass.

Obann was hunched over with the look of a man who saw the inevitable had arrived. With one last desperate attempt, he dashed forwards. As fast as he was, Sentinel was faster. Mid-lunge, she had already shifted, sliding to the side and lowering a shoulder. One arm exploded forwards. Her fist took Obann in the stomach with the entire weight of her body behind it, and he crumpled to the ground.

He didn't rise, and she didn't pursue.

A moment later Verdict was storming forwards, and for a moment Michael thought the entire group would break into a brawl. Capes on both sides tensed, but Verdict brushed past Sentinel, reaching down to where his teammate had fallen. None-too-gently, he hauled him to his feet.

Obann managed to get his feet back under him after a moment of wobbling, before he was practically dragged back towards the rest of Remedy. Peregrine was already moving forward to lend a hand, and Verdict shoved the bruised cape stumbling forwards. Without looking back, Verdict kept marching towards the van.

"Trust me," Jolt said, as they both watched the display. "They aren't the team you want to be on."

Michael watched as the van peeled away, leaving Peregrine and Obann to slowly make their way down the hill on foot. Jolt was right about one thing; he didn't want any part of the spectacle that had just unfolded. But above all, it only reaffirmed his original decision. He wouldn't get thrown aside by anyone. On his own, there was nobody else to tell him what to do.

"Back to patrol for them, and back to the base for the rest," Jolt said, looking like the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

"That's it, then?" Michael asked. "They just leave?" Back at the site of the fight, Steadfast had begun to spread out, circling the mobile home. Their leader was the last to move, staring at Remedy's retreating forms.

"That's it," Jolt confirmed. "Remedy gets nothing, and Steadfast gets nothing worth the trouble. They'll spend another ten minutes just searching the place, and walk away with maybe a handful of unregistered guns. And next time they'll snap at each other even quicker than before." Standing, she lightly brushed herself off. Beside her, Michael remained crouched as her words registered.

"That's my cue to go. You can keep the mask, if you want." With a final, brief nod, she turned and began to walk away.

"Wait, how much of this did you know about?" Michael called after her, but Jolt had already vanished into the woods. He felt her draw further and further away until she crossed the intangible line and disappeared for good.

Still seated, he stared blankly out into the darkness, contemplating. A minute passed quickly, then another.

Michael stilled as the sensation of tinkertech suddenly returned, drifting along the edge of his range. Through the wall of black, he could barely make out a pair of voices.

"…let's just go." The weary words trickled through the woods. "It's pitch black; there's nothing here."

"I swear I saw someone." The second voice was louder, though the man didn't sound particularly confident.

Peregrine and Obann. They must have circled around. Michael slowly rose to a crouch, staring uselessly in the direction he knew they stood. Night had arrived, and within the trees visibility was nonexistent. With his advantage, there wasn't a chance they'd find him.

Unlike when Jolt had been closing in on him, this time he was calm. After what he'd just seen, he couldn't find it in himself to be nervous. The sight of the two heroes limping down the hill lay fresh in his mind, colored with pity. He stayed silent, waiting and listening. The signal drew closer, but only just.

"Verdict will be less pissed off if we come back with something," the voice that must have been Peregrine continued. "He's been nervous as hell recently."

"Just… enough," Obann said, barely audible. "I'm tired, I'm sore, I want to get home and go to bed. I don't care about some loon with a camera hiding in the woods and taking pictures of me losing a fight." There was a long moment of silence as he finished.

"That was bullshit," Peregrine finally said. "You could have won, it's not your fault they didn't give you enough time to practice. Next time you'll get 'em easy."

"That's not… Sure. Thanks." Obann didn't sound very happy despite Peregrine's attempt at cheering him up. "Come on, let's go," he continued, and the noise faded as they began to circle away, marching through the woods.

Michael waited as the last sounds vanished—and then another few minutes longer—before he began picking his way back towards the road. He hadn't expected any of this when he had set out just a few hours earlier, and the night's rapid events still bounced around his thoughts. One thing was for sure, however. The brutally short fight stuck out in his memory, leaving him feeling increasingly underprepared.