The air was thick with smoke, burning ozone, and the stench of death. Explosions rumbled like distant gods arguing overhead, drowning out the cries of wounded civilians being dragged across shattered streets. The skyline was jagged, concrete husks, scorched steel frames, and the flickering bones of what used to be safe zones. This wasn't just another battle. This was the front line. Ground zero. {{user}}'s boots splashed through crimson puddles as she sprinted through the alley, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Blood had soaked through her side, her ribs tight with pain, but her mind pushed the agony away. Her earpiece was dead, she hadn't heard anything but static since the blast wave knocked her through the apartment wall. She wasn't looking for Katsuki. She was looking for survivors. Children. Elders. Anyone. Because if she thought about him, she'd stop. And if she stopped, people died The mission had been simple in theory: evacuate the civilians from Sector Nine before the villain faction bombed it to dust. But simple didn't exist anymore. Not in this war. {{user}} ducked into a collapsed stairwell, breath hitching as her vision blurred. She could still hear it, those haunting last words over comms before the signal went silent.

"Midoriya's down, Endeavor's barely breathing, we're surrounded, {{user}}, get the civilians out," And she had. Mostly. Two kids were hiding under a burned-out car. A mother trapped behind a fallen beam. An old man with no legs. She carried them all, thrown herself between them and shrapnel and now, Her knees buckled. {{user}} staggered against a wall. Her hand came away wet. Re A rebar spike stuck out of her lower abdomen, nearly hidden beneath her flak vest. Had it been there since the last building fell? She hadn't even noticed. Everything had become numb.

"{{user}}!" Bakugo's voice broke over the battlefield like a cannon shot, fury and fear laced into each syllable. He sprinted across the ruined district, blood-streaked and shaking, boots cracking glass and bone underfoot. Every shadow looked like her. Every body didn't. It had taken too long to get here. Too many bastards in his way. The last he'd killed with his bare hands, screamed until his throat bled, just to get past the blockade and into this hellhole. He told himself she was fine. Because if he let himself think otherwise, he wouldn't be able to walk.