Punchy, admittedly, got a little held up marveling that their battle droid worked, but he's been on the move since then, pushing through a variety of odd injuries he managed to get from tackling robots like a goddamn professional.

And it's like SHODAN's announcing his entry, and for a moment he feels so very badass. 'Like a hero' is only one step away from actually being a hero, and he's about to save the day. He's alive, so completely electrified on his own ego and addled with adrenalin. His boots pounding the ground echo as he books it into the pod caverns.

But far too late...

"Wait!"

He doesn't need to see the face to know. There isn't a face left to see. Even if there were, he might not have recognized her. She was so immortalized in his memory at nineteen years old, a shining flawless beacon he could show to people and say 'see, this is why I'm a hero, because of her'.

'Because if there'd been a hero like me, she'd still be here.'

He's here. She's still not. His big sister, the one who told him that the stories in the bible were just superhero tales without the pictures, the one who put the kitten up in trees just so he'd have something to rescue and feel good about, the one he's always been saying he would have saved, is a puddle of goo and blood and lacerated body parts on the floor.

There is no witty one-liner. Punchy can't even manage a dramatic 'no' for SHODAN.

And then the moment, like the one before it, is gone.