“Move forward!” Armsmaster called out, “He’s going to want to escape to recover! We can not let him!”
The longer he’s trapped under that building, the better.
Leviathan had more than halved our ranks with the wave. I could see people face down in the water. Others were crumped up, their bodies contorted, broken, still.
Damn. And the next wave is apparently going to be even stronger?
And the damage to the city was just as bad, in a different way. I stared at the wreckage, the block and a half of shattered buildings, and saw a looming mess of arches and massive iron beams and girders, unable to comprehend what it was.
…I wonder how far in from the coast the Loft is/was. Or Danny’s house, for that matter.
It dawned on me. The PHQ. The headquarters of our local superteam, tourist attraction, torn from whatever fixtures had rooted it in place, smashed to ruins against our coastline.
…oh.
Welp. I guess that forcefield around it didn’t work out in the end.
Like with the Boardwalk, I feel like this warrants a #dang it timmy. Rest in peace, Protectorate Headquarters.
Krixwell Liveblogs 