And just like that, the brothers she's facing drop their hands and bow to her. Sharon bows back, a little nonplussed, her head ringing from the hits she's taken, and watches as they regroup with their fallen brethren and those still left standing.

Move your ass, Carter, she tells herself, sternly. It works when nothing else does, and she manages to make her way over to where Huntress is pushing herself up.

Sharon holds out a hand to help her. "Looked good out there," she says, honestly. "I like the brass knuckles."