Denki had wires in his mouth. Literally. One hanging from his lips, two looped around his ear, another tucked into his jacket and sparking with just enough voltage to be deeply concerning. He was chewing on a copper connector like it was a lollipop, grinning like a madman while trying to hotwire a signal jammer from the front seat.

Denki: “Relax, babe!” he shouted at you through a mouthful of wire, eyes darting between you, the rig on the dash, and—when he remembered—the actual street in front of them. “I got this! I’m in the ZONE!”

He was not in the zone.

The van suddenly jerked to the right—hard. They hit a curb, went airborne for half a second, and Denki made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a terrified squeal.

Behind them, a black SUV full of villains was gaining, headlights bouncing through the smoke trail left by the van's rattling exhaust. One of them leaned out the window with what looked like a plasma rifle. Because of course they had a plasma rifle.

Another shot rang out. The back window exploded in a rain of glass.

you screamed and held on tight to the seat. “Do something!!”

Denki: “I am doing something!” Denki shouted, slamming a hand onto the half-finished jammer taped to the dash. Sparks shot out like a firework. “Okay okay okay, this’ll jam their comms—if I don’t accidentally electrocute my tongue—”

He bit down on the wrong wire.

There was a pop.

His eyes rolled back for a second, hair standing up like a dandelion on caffeine. The van veered left, hit a trash can, and just narrowly avoided a fire hydrant.

Denki: “I’m fine! Totally fine! My brain’s just doing backflips, but like, cool ones!”

He grinned through the smoke and sparks. Giving you his signature smirk.