I could hear the gunfire continuing. It had moved. By the sound of it, Hollow Point’s group was venturing along one edge of the camp, moving counter-clockwise along the perimeter.

“Stay put,” I said. I seized his foot and pulled it down, then undid the laces on his boots. I tied them around a branch. “I can make you more comfortable and leave you a way down if you talk.”

“Fuck you,” he said. He clung tight to a branch.

I tied the laces of his other boot to another branch. Then I identified a few key branches he could use to climb down, and, strength up, demolished the first with a sharp strike.

“Shit!” he said, voice going higher as the branch he was on wobbled. “Shit!”

I broke another. Not the cleanest break, it might have served as a foothold or handhold. I kicked it again to make it less of one.

When three branches were broken and there was a good ten feet between the branch he was on and the nearest handhold or foothold, I flew back, assessing the situation. He couldn’t let go of the trunk in front of the branch he was sitting on, and he couldn’t bend low enough to untie his laces, even if he could let go.

“I’m not going to say shit,” he said.

You just did, a few times, I thought. My expression remained deadpan.

I didn’t give him a response. Instead, I left him where he was, and flew down to the ground.

There was a time when using my powers had made me feel powerful. Having superstrength had made me feel strong. Having an aura that instilled awe had made me feel awesome.

I didn’t feel that same rush now. I felt melancholy.

There were more coming through the trees. They didn’t seem especially aware of me, or mindful of the earlier gunfire.

More people in leather jackets. Beards and some sunglasses. I flew up to a higher branch.

Bikers, except these guys didn’t have bikes with them. They’d be part of the Fallen’s network. While Prancer’s side of Hollow Point seemed to be willing to play by the rules of the game, the Fallen hadn’t been so inclined, even before Gold Morning. They hadn’t felt the social pressures because they hadn’t been part of society, living on the fringes and putting a wall between themselves and others. They’d had allies of necessity for certain events and causes, and the bikers had been some of those allies.

When people hadn’t been able to go after the Fallen, the pressures and responses for the Fallen’s actions had come to rest on the heads of the bikers and other allies. People had been less willing to deal with them, more force had been used against them, and the message had been driven home.