This was something he'd been devoting a lot of thought towards. The implications of registering versus not. The last thing he wanted was to sign on for another team. To be declared a hero. To be the symbol of anything. To be under the government's thumb. But this wasn't his world. He liked this government even less than his own, and he had no doubt they were withholding volumes of information, especially about what he was certain was a true God Program in the porter. But he was without resources here. Here he had nothing to fall back on. He couldn't hide when he didn't know all the factors, didn't know what threats to be watching for. But he knew too well that the best way to get at what a government was hiding was for them to think they had him under their command. Well, the best option short of letting them think he was dead.

In the morning before the ceremony, he paid a visit to Cape Canaveral. He had some questions, but if he went about it in his usual fashion, well...he wasn't keen on being arrested today. So he played nice. He asked around, found out what what expected at the formal event. With no desire to make a public spectacle of it, he registered there. Under the assurance that his name, especially his real name, would not be announced anymore. When signing the forms, he hesitated at the hero name. The name that had been in his file had been one assigned to him. Just like here, he'd only ever told people he was a soldier. But in the name of playing their game, he added the number as well. Just as in his world, this one would officially know him as "Soldier: 76."

Feeling as though he had swallowed a brick, he put in an appearance at the post-ceremony celebration. Sort of. His usual gear was getting rather...conspicuous. The armor, the gun, the mask. The iconic jacket. For the first time since arriving, he went among other imPorts without his mask. He still had the gear with him, of course. Stashed in a handy duffel bag. He was dressed simply in black. It was hard to hide the fact that he was ex military, the way he carried himself, the way he wore his boots, all of it. Someone with a keen eye might recognize the combo of the scar and the hair, but he wasn't exactly here to chat.

He was watching, observing, listening. Trying to figure out who might make a good resource, or who to watch out for. He wasn't in the market for allies or friends. He had no interest in small talk, and might just stare down anyone who tried to be overly friendly with him. He wasn't used to this whole "social" thing. But he is proving he's not a robot after all, because he might be found periodically at the food table. Soldiers gotta eat, after all.

A crowd like this without something going wrong? That didn't sit right with him. Especially with the abilities everyone was meant to have, he doubted they were all as benign and helpful as his own. It didn't help that he couldn't so easily dismiss the fact that somewhere there was a other-world Titan equipped with fusion canons. A monster that could among the crowd, hidden as a human. A monster that had some sort of vocal power. That is, if that idiot robot had been telling the truth.

As the sun set, he retrieved his bag, trading his regular clothes for his usual gear. He felt far less exposed as he withdrew into the trees. Watching. Waiting. The problem was his visor glowed red and he was stalking around a bunch of people spooking themselves with ghost stories and doing god knows what else in the dark. At least he was starting to learn that even though the title was "Registered Hero" not many played the part.

As the night dragged on, he was starting to come to the realization that there was nothing nefarious happening here. No government conspiracy to uncover just yet, though he was now convinced the registration was just to track those with powers and not encourage heroism. While that didn't make him any more comfortable with his choice to register, it did shift it. It also meant that irritating sense of duty was starting to creep back in, stronger than ever. Back home, there were others to play hero and protect people while he worked toward his own goals. Here, though the title was common, he was getting the feeling there was a reason he was brought here. And he didn't like it one bit.

When he was considering heading back to Maurita Falls, a commotion sounded from the campfires. At first, he'd thought the spread of smoke was from some idiot throwing something they shouldn't into the fires. No, it was too thick for that. Tapping the side of his visor, the image switched to pick things out in the smoke. Or that was the plan. Instead, he saw the advancing fire deeper in the trees on the other side.

Panic spread. As others ran away from it, he did the only thing a soldier as meant to do. He ran toward the danger. It wasn't a question. He dove into the thick smoke and burning timber. Unafraid. Thinking he heard a scream somewhere within the chaos, he ran toward it.