Peggy was filthy, covered in dust and bits of rubble, in other people's blood and her own scratches and scrapes and bruises. Her body screamed for her to slow down, but she had refused to take a drop of water from the people helping those trapped under rubble. It reminded her so much of home, back in London with the bombs and pulling body after body out of the dust. Women, men, children... she had seen more blood than she ever cared to in her life again.
She was a little grateful that her phone rang out and that she had someone coming to help her, after what seemed like an eternity in hell. She avoided the alien bodies on the ground, fearing that somehow they'd spring back to life and make a last grab at a kill. Peggy ran for the place where the door opened up, still in her normal clothes since she'd refused to leave once she'd stepped inside. "Tony?" she called out.