SSD III: Silver

82. Buried Alive, Round Two

AN: So I rewrote a good portion of this chapter because it didn't read smoothly enough in my opinion and that was annoying me. But that means that a good section has neither been proof-read or beta-read, so please, I beg of you lovely people to tell me any and all grammar/spelling/punctuation mistakes, even if you're not sure if its a mistake or not. I really appreciate it!

I considered leaving it for the night and proof-reading in the morning but considering how dramatically I left off last week, I thought that might be a little cruel. So here are.

Have fun with this conclusion to last weeks' cliffhanger!

"We have to stop meeting like this."

It was pointless, him being down here, risking his life if there was another aftershock. Aizawa was running around, trying everything he could to get the pile of debris off her. He was pretty inventive with it, makeshift pulleys, levers, but the concrete and metal pinning her was too heavy. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he didn't have the strength.

It wasn't exactly the way she'd imagined she'd die. She'd always thought her life would end in a manner a little more dramatic than death by building. Everything she'd survived, all the people she'd known who'd wanted to see her dead more than anything, everything she'd endured in her life, and she was going to kick the bucket because of a natural disaster.

Or a not-so-natural disaster since Aizawa said this was all cause by some kid who just got her quirk.

Wow. This really was an anticlimactic way to go. She couldn't even say she died saving Jean-Pierre because that guy was even more dead than she was, not by much, but enough that she was still breathing and he was not. It was kind of a miracle that, come to think of it, because she'd fallen through at least one floor, and hadn't been straight up skewered or instantly crushed by any of the stuff now on top of her.

"Eraser."

It must've been strange to him. He was stalking around this space— she was pretty sure it had been a car park before, but it was more piles of debris like the stuff slowly killing her than car park now— trying all these different methods to save her and glaring at bits of concrete like he could scare it out of existence, and, all the while, she was just lying here, watching him go, calmer than she thought she'd be after being buried alive for the second time.

Though, she supposed she wasn't really buried alive the first time, just trapped in a coffin, believing she'd been buried alive.

"Whatever you're thinking," she said, "it won't work."

He ignored her, kept glaring down inanimate concrete that wasn't going anywhere.

"Face facts, Eraser, there isn't any point in us both dying down here."

"You're not dying down here." The response was so immediate, like a reflex. She wondered how many times he'd said them. A hundred? A hundred times in a hundred different rescues over all the years he'd been a hero. Sometimes, she was willing to bet, it was even true.

She scoffed like this was just another day and he'd said something stupid, like they weren't discussing her death. "Please, I'm not some civilian you need to calm down." Silver knew medicine, she knew battle wounds, and she knew fatal when she saw it. "My legs are trapped, I'm not sure I can feel my toes, I'm bleeding bad enough for things to be fuzzy already." When she'd first felt the blood making her thigh wet, she'd assumed something had nicked her femoral artery and she'd be dead in under four minutes. She wasn't sure if her being alive after fifteen was a pleasant surprise or not, she was trapped under a building that would slowly but surely collapse on top of her— if she didn't bleed out, if she wasn't crushed, if she didn't suffocate, then she'd spend days slowly dehydrating until it killed her. "There isn't any use in us both dying."