Tim had been running hard for some time. He thought that ten minutes had passed, but it was hard to gauge. Too busy concentrating on the sounds of the rockets, what's close, what's far, what's about to hit you if you don't change directions like a drunk chicken. He lost track of Bruce, which was mildly troubling. Ordinarily, they split up during the day, anyway, but there weren't normally fireworks aimed at them.

More troubling was the fact that his vision hadn't cleared up yet. He closed his right eye, and all that registered was intense oversaturation. He had stumbled over bits of rubble here and there, each trip increased the urgency of his run. Surely, that would be the one that brought an explosion on his head.

Strangely, the further that he ran, the less seemed to actually be coming his way, although he can still hear them in all directions.

He heard distant screaming. Had someone gotten hurt? Tim changed directions, hoping to hear the voice again. Screaming meant consciousness. Life. Silence was terrifying.

Then, there's crying, and, sooner than he expected, he found someone. Burning so brightly that it worsens the damage to his eyesight.

There was no check in his footspeed as he rips off the cape, and then he was on her. Tim flung the cape over her, grabbing her arm through the material and throwing her to the ground. It was rougher than he would usually be, but he couldn't see who it was or if they were armed. He could be taking a chance by helping, but he wasn't going to let someone burn to death.

Dropping down beside the fire, Tim felt the heat of the fire searing his hands when he forcibly rolled her along the ground until the worst was out.