The bat feels heavier tonight, or maybe it’s just me. My head’s a mess—too many things going wrong, not enough going right. I tighten my grip and face the automaton. It stares back, lifeless, but in my mind, it’s every Chem-Baron thug and enforcer who’s ever hurt my people.

I swing hard—metal clashes with metal. Sparks fly, but it’s not enough. I rewind. Again. Faster this time. My bat slices through its arm, but my footing’s off. I rewind again. The frustration builds, boiling over. “Why can’t I get it right?” I mutter, slamming the bat into its chest. The automaton crumbles, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. I reset it anyway. One more round, just one more.