The Burn had been a success. While some smaller parties raved on, the bulk of Mutantkind here at Area 51 were tired or hungover. Passed out in whatever bed they could find, or perhaps wherever they had fallen. The potential for another night of fun existed, but Noel would not be organising it.

Various Mutants were engaging on litterpicking duties, while others were helping with food and drink. Almost everyone was pitching in as best they could to help clean up and keep everyone else's wheels spinning.

The slag of metal that was once recognisable as being Nighthawk's was yanked out of the ashpile, with various people debating on what to do with it. It had already been used a symbol against Christians and its elements within the US Government, but was there more chaos they could do? Maybe turn it into pro-mutant propganda?

Others were simply trying to survive the afternoon after their bender came to an end. As Area 51 and its surrounding came to life, the sun was already past its midday peak.