In the ruins of Eureka -- in Captania, rightly named -- Captain would have simply had to pull back a few centimetres or, even more infuriatingly, stand charmingly still, and either Snippy's punch would be brought down by a jealous and vengeful Pilot, or else some fluke of luck would have kept the mischief-maker out of harm's way.

Captain was beginning to learn that Zion's reality didn't always work in their favour.

Exhibit A: grinning brightly even as the short man's fist connected with their sleek jaw, Captain took the entire brunt of Snippy's punch in a way that would make everyone nearby who wasn't engrossed in their work pause to stare. Captain had been standing unbalanced, rocking on their heels, so the force of the blow sent them reeling. They lost contact with reality for a few moments, up and down becoming meaningless alongside a number of other senses. When they hit the ground, the mug they'd lost contact with came smashing into dozens of semi-crumbly pieces in the grate-work next to them. Who knew where the implement of Snippy's awful poke-and-twirl experience had gone.

Captain had probably never fallen in their life. They stared, bemused, at the rig-work of white-hot florescent lights that stripped the dock of any shadow as equally white-hot pain radiated out across their face. What had just happened? "Super effective," they mumbled, blinking owlishly round eyes and trying to regain some sense of their surroundings.