Michael arrived at the harbor, finding himself entirely surrounded by unbelievable chaos.
Managing to remember he couldn’t just slam into someone at such high speeds, Michael began to decelerate, and while doing so, did his best to mentally process his the scenery he was running into.
It was at that point he realized how his vision had adapted to the speed.
A firetruck burning on top of a gas station. Localized rains of debris, respectfully wide. Boats were on fire. The cruise he had been on was flipped upside down. So many people were floating in the air, and so many of them bleeding and bruised.
Guns littered the floor by the dozens. Maybe hundreds.
A platform ripped out of the pavement had been raised up into the air and held an egg-shaped tent made of hair. A large volume of water
