As the vine came down.
Dr. Gadget lifted his arm on instinct, watch raised toward the shadow swallowing them.
Then the air tore.
A streak of fire ripped out of the treeline at impossible speed—WHOOOM~—and slammed into the descending vine from the side. The impact sheared through it cleanly, the cut line glowing white-hot as the severed flesh blackened and split apart.
Pyro.
He tore straight through the vine's body, momentum carrying him past as embers scattered behind him like slag. The point of contact burned through instantly, the smell hitting a second later—scorched organic matter, bitter and choking.
But the cut didn't save them.
Half the vine kept falling.
Pyro twisted midair, boots flaring as he tried to pivot back—
"Oh no—!" someone shouted.
Dr. Gadget's watch flared.
A single point of light snapped into existence at its face—thin, precise—and fired.
