Andrew felt like every part of his body was on fire, pain radiating from every bruise, every.
His back was against the wall, quite literally, and as he stared at Don, hatred burned in his eyes. How could this nobody—a mere footnote in the world of heroes—be beating him? Him! A Barclay! His father's son!
The thought was unbearable, a bitter pill that lodged in his throat and refused to go down. His fingers twitched, his muscles trembling from the anger and pain. He clenched his teeth hard, unable to swallow the taste of defeat.
As these emotions boiled over, his eyes began to flicker with a strange purplish mist, barely perceptible at first but growing more intense with each passing second.
Don, ever-alert with his **Battlefield Awareness (Silver)** and superhuman senses, noticed the change almost immediately. The tension in his muscles immediately increased, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
