It was just an ordinary junkyard run, and now Walta is fleeing in a panic from some cape she's never heard of shouting about hunting down thieves at any cost. God, she doesn't even have a name yet, or any gear worthy of a real tinker. Just some stupid grappling hook thing that's already falling apart and a stun gun.

She keeps running, clutching her backpack like a lifeline. Her breath comes in sharp gasps as she turns corners in the maze of car parts, trying to stay ahead of the lunatic coming after her. She hits a dead end.

Someone else shouts at the 'hero' over her, his hoodie-based costume overshadowed by the coruscating energy between his hands. There's a confusing exchange of fire between the other two, with her in the middle. She stands up to run and - falls -