The world seemed to slow. Dust and smoke hung suspended in the air. Dan's heart pounded in his chest. Babump babump, driving him to move, to act, to do something, anything. People were already in motion. Uniformed officers rocketed towards the ruins of the apartment complex, firemen hot on their heels. Orange-vested volunteers frantically worked in the medical tent, dragging supply cabinets into place and hastily wheeling in beds. Paramedics swarmed like buzzing bees, hurriedly making preparations.

Tom shouted hasty instructions in Dan's general direction while shoving a walkie-talkie into his chest. "Go to B4! Meet up with your supervisor and do what he says! Now!" The man didn't stop to see if he was obeyed, immediately rushing towards his fellow paramedics.

There was no time to think or question. Stone creaked and groaned, metal screeched on metal, like the sound of a dying animal. The ground shook as the apartment finished its collapse. Smoke billowed outwards, rushing across the ground, upward and outward. Dan's gaze flailed across the parking lot, landing on one of the elevated signs. B4, his destination.

He appeared directly beneath it, mid-stride, stumbling slightly on the debris-ridden ground. Shouts filled his ears. Panic and disorder were being slowly stifled by the iron grip of training. An officer approached Dan, his blue shirt speckled with grey. He yelled something, some kind of order, pointing away from the crowds. Directing him away from the scene. Dan couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears and the dull roar of the crowd.

"I'm supposed to be here," He choked out, fumbling to pull out his identification badge. "I'm paired with—" What the hell was his name? "Hector! Hector said to meet him here."

The officer paused for a fraction of a second, his eyes quickly skimming the laminated ID, then nodded. He reached up to the walkie on his shoulder and said, "Hector, your shadow just showed up. Can you spare a mo'?"

The answer came in the form of a sonic boom. Hector's feet dragged across the ground, leaving smoldering skid marks as he came to a stop in front of Dan. He looked more bedraggled than before, caked in dust and dirt with a bandanna shielding his mouth. He fell into a coughing fit, wheezing slightly before turning to Dan.

"You're a teleporter, right?" he demanded. "Can move shit up to your body weight? That's what the file said."

Dan nodded quickly. "So long as everything I'm teleporting is touching. Not people though."

"That's fine. That's good enough. We got a lotta debris, and there are people beneath it." Hector wiped his mouth beneath his mask, then pointed towards the ruins. "We're starting roughly where the emergency stairwells were located. E1 for the two of us. Spotters will tell us where to dig. I'll break up the big pieces and you move them away. Capeesh?" He turned away before Dan could answer, then paused. "And get something to cover your face. You don't wanna breathe this shit in." He took a heavy step forward, then vanished with a crack of displaced air.

Dan stared. "Okay."

"Get going son," the other officer stated. "This isn't the time for gawping."

"Right." Dan took a deep breath, and considered his destination. He could see Hector in the distance, blurring in and out of sight with whatever upgrade he had. Dan's heart was pounding, his blood racing. He breathed in, and out, and found himself elsewhere.

The chill of t-space settled in his bones. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing eased. He wouldn't stay here long; he was still too uncertain about the effects the Gap would have on what he carried. While Dan was reasonably certain that anything his veil protected would be shielded from cosmic radiation, this was absolutely not the time to test that theory. There could be un-upgraded children trapped beneath that rubble. Dosing them with cosmic radiation and causing some kind of panicked incarnation would be devastating in this situation. Who knows what kind of power might emerge from such a thing.

So he lingered just long enough. Just long enough to catch his breath and settle his mind. He fished out a pair of goggles from his Go Bag, alongside a bright orange dust mask. The latter covered his nose and mouth, and he secured the former across his eyes. Another brief moment of focus brought him back to reality. He emerged in the shadow of the fallen apartment, flinching at the sudden heat. Almost immediately, Hector appeared beside him.

The officer grabbed him around the arm and led him forward. A grey haze hung over everything, dusty, dirty, hard to breathe. The smoke had mostly been dispersed in the collapse, but, somehow, more was being produced. The cause had clearly not been smothered, as more and more viscous black fog crept through the cracks in the concrete and stone. They were almost solid now, as they burrowed their way into the open. Like roots exposed to sunlight, grasping for the sky. Dan could see the trails drifting upward in the corner of his eye as he staggered over the uneven ground.

Hector led him to a congregated group of volunteers. "Our spotters," he supplied succinctly. One peeled off to meet them. No words were exchanged, there was barely enough air as it was, simply a nod and a wave. The dull roar of the emergency station had faded into the background. This close to the smoke, this far in to the danger zone, the noise was limited to gravel crunching beneath their feet and heavy breathing. Only the occasional shout of success or failure split the silence. And beneath it all, a quiet droning sound coming from the spotter. Though his mouth was covered by a mask, Dan could see his chin moving rhythmically up and down. Where he walked, the ground seemed to shift and soften. He was searching, Dan realized. Using some kind of echolocation. Looking for bodies.

...Dan could do that too.

He released his veil, sending sapphire tendrils drilling into the collapsed building. He thinned them out, and they split into countless threads, worming their way downwards. Dan could only receive the vaguest form of sensory feedback from them, but he made up for it in sheer numbers. He could feel the density of each material that they passed through, and his pool of energy dwindled as he expanded his web. Through stone and steel and pockets of air, Dan dug. He felt the ground soften where his spotter searched, sound waves digging into the earth and reverberating back. His veil followed in their path, combing back and forth in search of bodies.

It was like hitting a wall. The tendrils stopped dead. They curved upwards, forming a cocoon around the body. An adult, judging from the shape. Hopefully stil alive. Dan didn't know if a person's natural resistance to his power faded upon death, but he supposed he might find out today. The person in question was boxed in by fallen concrete, kept alive in a small air pocket. They weren't moving, either unconscious or too injured.

The question, then, was how to alert his companions without drawing undue suspicion.

"Try over here," Dan said simply, pointing to where he knew a person lay trapped, below ten feet of debris. He could have tried something more subtle, but that might take too long. With his identity secured by Anastasia, he was willing to be a bit more daring. He weighed the chances of someone getting suspicious against a person's life, and Dan's comfort came up short.

The spotter asked no questions, simply shifting directions to where Dan had pointed. One spot was as good as another, to the man. Without any real clues other than a general area, all they could do was guess. He opened his mouth, and Dan could feel the ground shifting. A moment passed, and the man spoke.

"We got a live one."

At his words, Hector stepped forward. Quietly, he asked, "Is it safe to dig?"

"I'm working on it," the spotter replied. The droning noise increased. Dan's skin crawled. The hair on his neck raised. The grey fog surrounding them seemed to vibrate and shift away.

Dan sent his veil downwards to feel—

The man was shaping the material. Not drastically, not quickly, but surgically. Stone softened and steel warped. Down and down, he drilled, opening pockets of air and loosening the soil. The droning increased yet again. This time, the ground around them began to vibrate softly. Grains of dirt shifted and slid. The concrete around the victim hardened, fusing together at the edges. Reinforcing the cage, yet sheltering the victim.

The droning stopped, and the spotter staggered slightly. With a slightly hoarse voice, he said, "Eight feet, straight down. You'll hit a stone barrier. Should have no problems before then."

"Newman, you're up," Hector said. He moved aside. "Make us a hole."

Dan nodded and shrugged off his duffel bag. He stepped onto the softened ground, pushing his veil downwards.

"Where do I put the dirt?" he asked.

Hector shrugged. "Stick it under the E1 sign. Nobody will care."

"Right." Dan's veil hummed, and he vanished. One hundred and sixty pounds of debris vanished with him, forming a large square in the ground. He reappeared inside of it, grimacing. The spotter had made his job more difficult, in his attempt to be helpful. Dan had an easier time transporting denser materials. The loose soil was actually difficult for him to grasp.

"Problem?" Hector asked.

Dan gritted his teeth. "No." He knelt down and dug his hands into the shattered stone. His veil pushed, pouring out like a flood. He forced it to ignore the air pockets, flowing around them like water. His veil dug deep, drenching the ground, and he ripped—

Dan flickered, dumping his cargo off and reappearing in less than a second. Again and again, he dug. A small hill of clay and stone formed beneath the E1 sign. Finally, he hit the concrete barrier above the unconscious civilian. His veil drilled through it as easy as the rest, but it was too dense to move wholesale. Dan placed his hands against it, ready to shave away at it until he was through.

"Hold," Hector said.

Dan blinked, and looked up. The officer was staring down at him, at the edge of the massive hole Dan had carved.

"I'll take it from here," the officer said.

Dan almost argued—He could do this!—but good sense kept him silent. He reappeared beside Hector, and the officer jumped down to replace him. The man stared at the concrete barrier, taking a slow deep breath.

"RAGGGH!" he bellowed suddenly, blurring in place. His body vanished, then reappeared in a crouched position. An enormous crack rang out, and the ground shook. When the dust settled, Dan could see Hector's arm embedded in the concrete block up to his shoulder.

Dan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, as the officer let out another grunting shout.

"HAH!" The concrete block shattered into fine powder, a shockwave rippling outwards.

Dan stepped backwards, waving away dust as it fountained into the sky. He peeked back into the hole, to see Hector performing basic first aid on the unconscious woman now revealed. After a moment, he shouted up to Dan, "She seems to be okay. In shock, no doubt, but nothing is broken. Help me get her out."

Dan and the spotter worked to pull the woman free, then gave Hector a hand up. A quick call into the radio had a pair of burly officers arrive with a stretcher. They loaded the woman up and sent them on their way. Hector staked in a reflective sign next to the pit Dan created, then they resumed the hunt for more trapped civilians.

No mention was made of Dan's find, save for Hector clapping him on the shoulder and saying, "Well done."

Their slow routine continued in much the same manner. Searching and digging. Hector stepped in any time there was heavy stone blocking their objective, and Dan repeatedly used his power to carve out a path. They pulled out two more living people, a man and another woman, before Hector called for a break.

"I can keep going," Dan protested.

"Been half an hour, chum," Hector replied. "Regs call for a break, for good reason. We can't get burned out."

And that was that. They regrouped outside the medical tents, taking a fifteen minute breather. Dan seated himself in the back of an empty ambulance, his legs dangling in the air. He watched volunteers stream in on buses, many only just arriving. He caught sight of Tawny greeting his classmates. Freya and Fred were both led towards another tent, where briefings were being held for the newcomers.

An unwelcome sight stepped off the next bus. Matilda Fairbanks, clad in a volunteer vest, shook Tawny's hand. Her eyes roamed the crowd, hawk-like and searching, as she spoke to him. Her gaze landed on Newman, pinning him in place. He stiffened. Surely she wouldn't raise a fuss. Not here, not now.

After a long moment she gave him a brief nod.

Dan relaxed, breathing out. He wasn't sure what was taking the feds so long to pick her up, but he was content with the fact that she wouldn't be bothering him. His relief must have been overt, because Matilda rolled her eyes in his direction. She said something to Tawny, who nodded and moved to join his students, then pulled out a phone. Dan turned away from her as she made a call, feeling like a stalker.

His gaze drifted to the medical tents. He could go in there and help. He knew enough first aid to be useful, or even actively helpful. He just... wasn't keen on seeing the bodies. He couldn't put it off forever. But just a little more time would be nice. Every time he thought about it, his arm ached. He hadn't done well, the first time he'd seen someone dying. And this time, there would be no Marcus around to spur him into action. It was unpleasant to contemplate.

His thoughts were broken up by shouting from near the ruined apartment. A moment later, he heard the hissing. Like a fuse, a slow, steady, quiet buzz. He peered around in confusion noticing several nearby paramedics doing the same. The cries grew louder and the sky seemed to darken. The massive plume of smoke that had continuously poured out of the ruins condensed, growing steadily heavier and thicker. Then, a spark. A tiny flash of light.

THOOOOOM!

The earth shook! Fire bloomed upwards, a vicious red. The sky ignited, searing itself across Dan's vision. He cried out, falling out of the ambulance. His head cracked against the tarmac, sending a jolt of pain across his body. Then, the shockwave hit.

WHUMMP!

Glass shattered as Dan took cover beneath the vehicle. Alarms blared, further disorienting him. His ears rang, and his mind spun. He rolled out from beneath the ambulance, his body aching. From his place, prone on the ground, he could see flashes of what had just happened. The smoke had ignited like a powder keg, vaporizing what remained of the apartment complex. The medical tents were in shambles, having collapsed from the shockwave.

A rough hand seized around his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. Dan staggered, struggling to focus on what was in front of him. Something large and heavy was shoved into his chest, and he almost tripped backwards.

"Pull yourself together, Newman," a familiar voice spoke. Dan blinked the stars out of his eyes, to see a grim-faced Matilda in front of him. She seemed to have escaped most of the damage, though there was a wild look in her eyes. "You need to report to G-3. There's an injured civilian who needs emergency supplies."

Dan blearily glanced down at the metal box he was holding. Something told him that the red cross emblazoned on its front should neatly explain its purpose, but his brain was having trouble making the connection.

"What..."" he asked.

"G-3, Newman! Now!" Matilda gave him a shove, and he absently obeyed.

The world twisted beneath his feet mid-step, and found himself on the opposite side of the former apartment complex. He emerged on a sidewalk facing the street. The heat here was almost overwhelming, forming a visible shimmer in the air. The explosion had kicked up a small mountain of dust, and he drunkenly moved forward to his destination.

There was... a body on the ground. In the street. A paramedic knelt over him, performing CPR. The civilian's legs were charred black. Like used matchsticks. The thought cleared away the cobwebs in Dan's brain. He strode forward, arriving next to the paramedic.

"Emergency supplies here," he said quickly, averting his eyes. "Where do you want them?"

"Just on the ground there," the paramedic muttered, clearly focused on his task. Dan spared a glance, catching sight of a manual resuscitator placed over the victim's head. It caught his eyes, and froze him. The man's face was a mess. Mutilated and bloody, missing strips and carved like a turkey—

Dan heaved, his stomach suddenly doing back-flips. Nausea seized him like a vice, and he fell backwards onto his ass. He barely felt the impact, as his head spun.

The paramedic looked back in concern. "Doing alright there, fella?"

"I'm just—," Dan swallowed heavily. "I need a minute."

The paramedic leaned in, leaving his victim. He placed one hand behind Dan's neck, while the other pulled off Dan's dust mask. "Breathe deep, close your eyes, stay calm."

Dan wheezed, his vision darkening. Curiously, he found that his primary emotion at the moment was embarrassment. Here he was, in the middle of a disaster. His big chance to make a difference. And he was passing out at the sight of a little blood.

As he blacked out, one last coherent thought flashed through his mind.

It's a good thing there's a paramedic here.

Then the lights went out.