Sorrel made it out. 

He made it out alive. 

He got to talk to his doctor again. He got to see his cat again. He got to see his moths again. He got to see the bees again. He got to see his garden again. He got to go to his date tomorrow— how… would he explain his wounds to his date? Well— now that he escaped alive, he got to think that dilemma through, in his own time. 

The food was already in the fridge, already prepared. His outfit was already planned. His weird cat’s meals are already covered by a friendly neighbor. He finished all his chores in the morning. It was fine-  he could rest now. 

Sorrel, the man dressed as the infamous Gamma-Burn, passed out on a raft in the expansive sewer systems, one of many belonging to the network of Ground Zero. He was lucky that, even though none of these people were exactly his close friends, these people cared for him as he cared for them, like any good society. It was much later when he woke up in a hospital bed, all bandaged up and with a bunch of machines monitoring him. 

At least he was alive. At least he made it out alive. And, now, he could go back to his two shipping containers worth of private space, feed his slugcat friend, and go the fuck to sleep.