He was totally caught by surprise when the whole building collapsed on top of him. If it weren't for the fact that he had his arms over his head and could bring them down protectively over his exposed cranium before he got toppled by the concrete, he might not be alive by now. He coughed furiously as the dust flew all around him, and his skin crawled with the sensation of being buried. He dug through the smaller gravel until he felt a big chunk of concrete overhead, and he began to push up... If he couldn't lift it, the least he could do was to let the outside world know he was still inside, still alive. Something atop the concrete shifts, probably even more debris rolling down the sides, and he forces himself to stand up, lifting the big piece of concrete over his head like he's squatting a barbell. There's dust everywhere, invading his eyes and mouth, and he can't tell if anyone else has been hurt. With ease, he drops the big rock behind him, and steps forward into cleaner air. As soon as he becomes visible people begin to roar and cheer for him, but he's just dazed, wiping his filthy face off on one of his tattered sleeves.<br/><br/>He gets lost in a crowd as people rush towards him, grabbing him by his clothing and giving him kind words about how brave he was, how remarkable it was that he had escaped mostly unharmed. Oscar sure as hell didn't feel unharmed. His fingers rubbed over a slick spot in the back of his dark hair; A big gash, not readily visible under his matted down hair, but one he would have to get checked out. His fatigues were ruined; Children were clutching at his pant legs, jumping up and down and screaming wildly, and he could feel some of the seams on his pants giving way with each small fist that balled up around the fabric. "Okay, okay," he said wearily, beginning to gently push his way through the crowd. "¡Por favor, deme algún cuarto!" He cried, and some people finally began to separate from him, at last giving him room to maneuver.<br/><br/>Oscar ripped a rag off of his uniform as he moved through the diminishing crowd, going down the street, eager to get away from it all. He wasn't afraid of crowds... Well, not really, but that didn't mean he was comfortable in them, either. He was sick and exhausted, and a little battered, and right now he needed a little quiet time. He waved the rag through the air, trying to evict any of the dust from the collapsed building so that he could push it into his eyes and clear them out of all the grime and sweat. He tossed the dirty thing to the side when he was done, and began to look up and down his body... There were gashes everywhere in the clothing, and when the breeze lifted, he could feel it filing through a flap in his shirt, revealing the pebbly dark skin beneath. Fuck... Well, he would find Athena, and find out if they had any spare fatigues, or anything. He didn't want to take clothes from the Chileans who really needed them.<br/><br/>Thankfully, the crowd that had been mobbing him had gone elsewhere, though a few eyes watched him as he passed. The city had been hit very hard, but the devastation wasn't as much as Oscar believed it should have been. The buildings here must have been very well built, because Santiago wasn't a total loss at all. It occurred to Oscar that he didn't know where any of the others were, and they hadn't exactly set up a rendezvous point. He sighed and found himself slumping next to a tree, feeling quite tired after toiling for hours to dig people out of the rubble.