The days quickly passed.
But not in a cinematic way. No new disasters. No televised explosions. Just meetings, briefings, convoys, and the slow, grinding presence of the military folding itself deeper into Santos City.
Checkpoints on certain roads that hadn't needed them before. Uniforms where there used to be joggers and delivery drones. Helicopters threading low across the skyline like they were testing how much noise people would tolerate before snapping.
The governor addressed it twice. Three times, if you counted the emergency broadcast he cut short when protestors flooded the steps to city hall.
Havenridge hadn't gone quietly.
Some of the survivors rejected the compensation packages outright. Some refused relocation. Others demanded names, signatures, trials. A few of the louder SHQ members joined them, accusing the government of treating heroes like disposable equipment.
Headlines churned. Panels argued. Analysts speculated.
Don said nothing.
