A second later, Thor flew across the industrial district faster than the eye could follow.
Old factories blurred beneath her. Rusted cranes and black chimneys became streaks at the edges of her vision while lightning carried her over fenced compounds and abandoned rail lines.
She followed the roads away from the dead industrial quarter until warehouses gave way to apartment blocks, crowded streets and small commercial buildings packed beneath gothic arches and glowing signs.
She slowed above the rooftops.
A healer shop should not be difficult to find but going inside one was the problem.
Thor looked down at herself.
Her armor was not subtle. Neither was the hammer. Neither were the silver-white hair, stormlight around her body or the fact that half the modern world recognized Thor Stormchild from old paintings, schoolbooks and Lancet's increasingly public adventures.
Lancet had been very clear.
No one could know she had been in State X.
