A few minutes back.
Miss Mercury was a blur across the battlefield as streaks of yellow lightning cut through the destruction.
Every step she took shattered the ground beneath her, the sheer force of her acceleration sending debris spiraling into the air. Civilians — dead or alive — were being swept up in her arms, carried to safety zones miles away in mere moments. It didn't matter if they had already passed — at least their loved ones would have a body to mourn.
That was important. That mattered.
In and out of the battle zone she moved, sometimes carrying two or three people at a time, other times settling for just one to regain some strength.
She refused to stop. She refused to slow down.
Every second wasted was another life lost.
