Time elapses. Rewind is allowed to leave her prison—er, hospital room. She needs to go around on a wheelchair, and it'll still take at least a month for her bones to mend completely, and she needs help to move around and do stuff. But she definitely won't complain about being able to eat real food more often (she is very thankful for the bot bringing her takeout), and she can keep riding along with paramedics even when she can't really move around a lot.
And one of these days, while she's in an ambulance, something lands on it, rocking the vehicle and startling her from her thoughts. The ambulance stops, and whatever it is makes noises as if it's moving and then jumps off it. Rewind twists to see through the window, and—
"Console, a really weird leafy monkey just jumped on the ambulance and then off it," she says into her comm.
So she'll be armored up and better able to punch things. If Glam's attention's spread too thin or Echo doesn't want to try it...
Nah, Glam can focus there for a minute, with some cooperation from Echo, and eventually she's armored up.
Yup! Though some help from Windflower would be appreciated wherever she's closest to, to speed the process up.
Windflower and Silica are pretty much mopped up here. Windflower whisks as much of the poison as she can through an air filter she carries with her treated with some of Miracle Max's stuff, makes sure the PRT knows not to go in there for a while and keep civilians back from the perimeter, and jogs along with the sand golems to the next site.
Drupe can wear a plant on his face and tolerate the poison as long as she goes with a milder version. Windflower turns up there and helps.
Except Blasto wasn't there, either.
Unless you count a guy whose jewelry store was completely ransacked while he slept soundly on the counter, his last memory being of a bizarre plant creature dropping in front of him and squirting something on his face. Somehow his alarms weren't activated, and his vaults were apparently melted by acid.
Armsmaster says they still did the best they could, curtly saying that dealing with self-replicators definitely takes precedence over securing material goods. He even sounds like he believes it.
Lorica inquires if she has permission to have bots patrolling the city twenty-four-seven looking for anything suspiciously Blasto-y, so they can try to nip him in the bud before Brockton Bay looks like Ellisburg.
Well, the bots are tireless. And they can plot Transit paths through the city while they go.