She picks up the logistics operator stunned by the cannon blast and throws them behind her, but does not leave. Looks like she still wants to say something— Then the whole world goes black. 'She's not in good shape.' She hears someone talking, not too far away... She tries to open her eyes, but everything seems broken and blurred, like a heavily damaged video tape. She sees two people sitting opposite each other, one wearing a familiar mask, the other lost in thought, gazing down at her stethoscope. They argued for a long time about what to do with her. In the end, neither seems happy with the conclusion. Finally, the one with the stethoscope comes over to her, writing down the monitor readings as she says, 'You can stay here. You'll have a new name.' She recognizes Kal'tsit, but is unsure if she has ever seen Dr. Kal'tsit looking so worried. 'Maybe it's a glitch in my memory.' She says to herself— An ear-piercing buzzing interrupts her thoughts. Warm, yellow light fills her vision. She is standing in front of the door to her house. The tiles beneath her feet are softer than marshmallows. Her mother is writing a letter. There is a box full of them by her mother's feet. Unsent letters have long since taken the place of tears. She tries to comfort her mother, tell her she is alright, but her mother does not seem to see her. She wants to take a closer look at the letter, but all she sees are countless scribbles like an indecipherable puzzle. She tries to rearrange the scribbles into something comprehensible, but they suddenly fade and disappear. No—she anxiously grasps at the last scribbles—where? She cannot see her hands—she wants to see— She sees her own silhouette outside the window. She remembers now. This was the day when she left home. The house collapses into a wound before her eyes. She tries to press at the wound, to stop the blood from gushing out... Someone grabs her shoulder—'Stop. This one's gone.' But she continues to press, until black rocks grow from the wound, pierce her hands, and start to grow from her body too. She does not care. She clenches her teeth and keeps pressing, until the wounded starts coughing and says— 'The textile workers of Connor County will remember everything you did for home. Never bow to those criminals.' Home? Was Connor County really her home? She gazes at the worker leader, whose neck was cleaved by an attacker, but sees only the logistics operator stunned by the shell— 'Emergency defibrillation—done! Check the pupils!' The operator shouts before he is pushed away by Blaze. 'You're awake! Another shell got you—whoa!' Blaze grabs his head and pushes him back inside the shelter, then picks up her chainsaw from the ground. 'What are you doing?' The operator asks in a worried tone. Blaze spits out the clotted blood in her mouth. 'Getting back into the fight.'