Sorrel knew how pathetic he looked as he wiped the blood onto his poncho and adjusted the mask on his face again. He needed to [i]move,[/i] Stag King was surely nearby, all that stumbling and coughing and pain was just slowing sorrel down. That little nuclear stunt he pulled— it just made his body hurt more and more and it made him feel like he was dragging maybe half a ton of lead on his back.

The area cooled as Sorrel tried desperately to calm himself, but he flinched at this big CLANG! sound right behind him. 

A half-melted streetlight. A chunk of concrete slammed into it. The streetlight bent away. 

Gamma-Burn braced himself with his single blade— what was that? Some petty attack? Did he— [i]fuck![/i] He couldn’t control himself enough, huh? There were definitely innocent people caught between him and his escape. Maybe that throw was from some miracle survivor… he could understand why. That person probably wanted him dead for being so careless. That person was probably going to die in the next, what..? Hour? Day? 

He had to go. He really, [i]really[/i] had to book it, before he caused more damage, before he collapsed from his own issues. 

Another crashing sound— that stupid giant bug. What was he doing? Sorrel squinted, but he just saw the green blob continue to crash through a nearby building. That was his chance for an escape. He just—

Bingo. A manhole cover. It was hot, warping, but it told Sorrel where the city sewers were. That was his key to getting back to Ground Zero. He’d be able to run to his home and go into a rootpath and he’d be safe, and he’d be able to do this again another time, when the world needed his extreme services. 

He grit his teeth as he pulled out the manhole cover. Why was it so heavy? Why did it have to be so [i]hot[/i] to the touch? Sorrel’s body didn’t burn, but… it still hurt. He bit down on his lip so hard, trying desperately to hold in noise, that he cut part of it with his sharp teeth. Sorrel jumped in the second there was a space big enough for his small body. Gamma-Burn made a clean escape. Another fun thing for the papers to talk about, he guessed— but despite his pain, he couldn’t help but smile, knowing he rid the world of another tumor. He leaned on the walls— fucking hell. He needed to rest. 

Slowly, supporting himself with the wall of the sewer, he hobbled through the winding tunnels and disappeared into some leafy overgrowth in there.