He came down like a streak of lightning that forgot where to hit.

One second the night sky was quiet; the next, a green-white arc of energy tore through the clouds. The crash wasn’t a roar — it was a buzz, a living current tearing its way through the dark.

Then — a flash, a jolt, and a long, drawn-out WHAM!

Feedback slammed not into the ground, but into a forest canopy — snapping branches, bending trunks. Sparks flew with every collision.

When everything finally stopped moving, he found himself dangling upside down midway between the treetops — horns twisted, limbs hanging, his long tail coiled awkwardly around a branch like a stubborn extension cord. Bits of static crackled along his body.

“...Oh, come on!” Feedback groaned, one antenna flickering with short-circuit pops.

He tried to pull free; instead, his head went thunk! against a branch. The energy dancing across his skin flashed once, lighting up the whole forest like a bad thunderstorm.

He dangled a moment longer, sighing through clenched teeth, his voice buzzing faintly as if modulated through a speaker on low battery.
“Note to self… trees are not good insulators…”

His antennae twitched — one drooping lifelessly, the other pulsing in irregular bursts. Sparks hopped between them. The tail — tipped with those strange round plugs — kept trying to retract from the branch but only succeeded in tightening itself further.

Every squirm produced another cascade of flashes. The forest lit and dimmed like a faulty power grid, and somewhere far below, a family of startled birds panicked, scattering in glowing silhouettes.

“Okay, okay— no sudden moves…” Feedback mumbled, controlling his breath. The sound of sizzling wood under low voltage followed immediately after.

The energy surging around him subsided just enough for him to listen — the wind swaying the treetops, leaves rustling, the faint drip of dew. The static hum that usually filled his ears quieted to a faint tremble, almost peaceful.

A smile cracked under the flicker of his eyes. “You know what? Coulda been worse. Didn’t explode.”

Crackle. Flick. Pop.

The branch gave a final, tiny snap!, and he dropped straight down, leaving a smoking outline in the bark.

SMASH.

Dust, leaves, and sparks erupted everywhere. From the small crater came a muffled voice:
“…Okay, maybe a little exploded.”

Somewhere in the branches above, the faint glow of one severed plug-end still dangled, swinging gently in the night breeze — a little reminder of Feedback’s less-than-graceful arrival.