It's been a long few days (but it was worth it, it would have been worth it even if it ended up just being damage control in the end). 

She's pleased about her small contribution, even if it was in the background and hardly anyone will notice.

...even just the lives saved would have been worth it, of course, especially with Arrakis breaking containment like this, that's why she does this, but the thought is nonetheless there, that those broken bones were totally worth it (and dramatically shorter on recovery time than normal, she needs to send Aumento another thank-you when she has downtime) when Arrakis is fucking dead, this is the last city it will ever ever terrorize.

(Of course the ideal is not to get broken bones at all, she's much less useful that way and it's miserable, but any time she's in a disaster zone it's a risk, and the risks were piling up that first day in Toronto, with all the damaged buildings.)

It's a confluence, so there's always going to be more dungeon breaks, but just for now, she can celebrate a little.

Kennedy Park, age twenty-nine, is working as a teller at the Queen West branch of the Toronto-Dominion Bank when Arrakis hits, which means she isn't in her fourth-floor apartment when it collapses.

Her husband Calvin works from home as a graphic designer; he isn't so lucky. 

His death doesn't make the news, apart from a three-second shot showing a collage of several dozen victims that plays as a newscaster reads out the casualty figures.

Kennedy had never particularly worried about her husband dying. He was thirty-one and healthy. He'd been taken by a dungeon, once, when they were still dating, but she didn't even hear about it until he'd already been rescued. One of them dying had seemed like the sort of thing they could plan for when they were older.

The days since Arrakis breached have been one long string of learning just how much more there is to do than she'd expected. Her brother works night shifts at the hospital and says she can crash at his place as long as she's out of bed by the time she gets home from work, which means she doesn't have to worry about emergency housing and only has to worry about calling Calvin's parents, and arguing with Calvin's parents about whether he should be buried in Ottawa where he was born or Toronto like he actually wanted, and figuring out whether the fact that his dead body was fished out of the collapsed rubble of their apartment building means his death has already been registered, and trying to remember which of the more-than-a-dozen critical documents she needs had a copy that wasn't in their apartment, and calling funeral homes (closed) and their church (closed) and his life insurance company (not closed, but wants her to wait on hold for forty-five minutes) and his employer and every other institution that needs to know he's dead from his credit card company to ServiceOntario, and making a list of every subscription he had so she can cancel those too, and responding to more than a dozen texts from friends who've heard that Arrakis hit Toronto and want to know if she's okay—

And when she stops for the day, not because she's done but because no one is picking up the phone this late, she still has to cook dinner. It shouldn't be a big deal, really, she cooks on weekends, but somehow that's the final straw that makes her start crying.

Her phone's news algorithm helpfully informs her that Arrakis has been destroyed, and probably she should be happy about it, but mostly she just feels angry — angry that they were too late for Calvin, angry that even though apparently it was possible to kill Arrakis once they tried no one bothered to actually do it until this appearance, angry at herself for not just being happy that the dungeon is dead.