Hope Comes to Brockton Bay

Part 10

Hope jerked her head up at the klaxons resounding through the room. "What's that?"

Weld looked around, confused. "Fire alarm?" he said. "Is there a fire drill that I didn't know about?"

One of the PRT officers standing at the periphery of the room spoke urgently into a comm. He tried again, and got nothing. "That's a duress alarm! And the security station isn't responding!"

Miss Militia was the first to the door. Weld and Clockblocker were right behind her. Hope stood too, then glanced at Weld. He paused, shrugged and nodded. "Okay, come on." Glancing at the PRT officer, he added, "Once we're out, secure this room."

By the time Hope got to the door, the other three were already running. This, of course, was the downside of needing wings to fly; relatively narrow spaces gave her no leeway. Here, Hope would have to run like everyone else. And she wasn't all that good at running. Miss Militia was already out of sight; Weld and Clockblocker were close behind, leaving Hope in their wake.

She was a little out of breath when she turned the corner to see Flechette unconscious on the floor, with a familiar-looking bolt stuck in her arm. Hope went down to one knee, and plucked the bolt – one of Shadow Stalker's tranquilliser versions – out of Flechette's arm, then applied a pulse of cool blue light to her. That should deal with the poison.

Just then, she sensed movement from the corner of her eye, and turned just in time to block a flying bolt with her wing. A second one flashed in, however, and struck her in the ribs. It broke, and fell to the floor, its contents spreading over the tiles.

"Well, crap. You're bulletproof," said Shadow Stalker.

Hope didn't even bother answering; she stepped in, slashing across with her wing when she was still a good six feet away. Shadow Stalker had just finished fumbling a bolt into her crossbow when it was batted from her hand, to fly down the corridor.

"What are you doing out of your cell?" she demanded. "And why did you attack Flechette? She's done nothing to you!"

Shadow Stalker just smirked, as though she knew the punchline to a joke, leaped up to the ceiling, and ghosted through an air vent.

On the ground, Flechette coughed and groaned; Hope gave her a hand to get up.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better all the time," said Flechette. "She caught me by surprise. She won't do that twice."

"I have absolutely no idea what's going on here," confessed Hope. "All I know is that the alarm is giving me a headache, and the security post isn't reporting in. Miss Militia, Weld and Clockblocker went to see what's going on."

"Well," said Flechette, readying her arbalest, "let's go."

She led the way down the corridor; Hope followed. However, they had not gone more than ten yards before Hope heard a hissing sound from behind them. She half-turned, only to catch a large blob of foam in the face. More followed, splattering over her body and wings, as she instinctively spread them to shield Flechette from the spray. Just before her sight was blotted out, she recognised Shadow Stalker, holding a container with a spray nozzle.

Containment foam. She'd heard of this stuff, but not actually seen it in action until now. Incredibly sticky, a little flexible, and very tough. It would hold all but the strongest parahumans in place, and its flexibility prevented it from being torn too easily after it set in place.

With a yell, Flechette shot a bolt past Hope that must have nailed the containment foam tank, for a rushing whoosh resulted. Then she heard the same unsettling laughter as Shadow Stalker apparently disappeared once more into the air vents.

"Oh my god!" gasped Flechette. "Hope, can you breathe?"

Hope reached up, feeling the foam coating her left arm pull away with a little reluctance, then peeled away the coating of foam from her face and hair, leaving a perfect impression of her features on the inside of the now-set blob.

"Now I can," she said with a smile, then took the promised breath. "Don't touch; this stuff's really tacky." She peeled away the foam from her wings, then grimaced as she had to tear her clothes to get it off her body. "Darn. I liked that top."

Now free of the foam, but entirely naked, she glanced at Flechette. "Well? Let's get going." She had kept the foam that had splattered her face, and she was thoughtfully molding it into a mass about half the size of a basketball, passing it from hand to hand. "What?"

Flechette was staring at her, but then shook her head. "Nothing. Let's go."

They went.

The main lobby of the building was a battlefield. The security area was wrecked, with desks overturned and equipment strewn everywhere. There was a mass of containment foam - possibly from another exploded container - which had Miss Militia trapped, with neither hand showing.

"Jesus," Flechette said. "That's not a good thing. But hey, Clockblocker got Grue."

Off to the side was the tall guy in motorbike leathers and skull-face helmet from the Undersiders – Hope remembered being told that his name was Grue. He was frozen in an attitude of movement. Not far from him, Clockblocker was likewise trapped in containment foam.

But the main action was happening down toward the elevators; Kid Win and Weld were fighting the girl with the dogs and Shadow Stalker. The girl with the dogs – Hope had been told her name was Hellhound – was accompanied by three monstrous creatures, which looked like what Godzilla would look like if he was a dog. They were each the size of a Prius, if not larger, and their strength was undeniable. The only reason they weren't able to truly come to grips with their two opponents was Vista; she was stretching and shrinking the landscape inside the room, in eye-twisting directions, to give her teammates the best advantage.

Flechette drew two slim throwing darts, and hurled them in a single motion; Hellhound looked down in surprise as her boots were nailed to the ground by the sides of the soles. She looked around and pointed, and shouted something to Shadow Stalker, inaudible to Hope over the thunderous barking of the dogs.

"What the hell?" yelled Shadow Stalker. "I tranked Flechette, and I foamed Hope! Come on, some help here?"

Hope had no idea who she was speaking to, but a few seconds later, insects converged on Hope and Flechette from all directions. Flechette recoiled with a yelp, but Hope wasn't particularly squicked out by bugs, so she started moving forward with purpose.

After the first few tried - and failed - to sting her uncovered skin, they began to converge on her face. Her wings made this difficult; she fanned the air about her, creating strong gusts and currents, which made them tumble about, out of control, but many reached her face all the same. She paused, shut her eyes and mouth, and rolled the ball of foam across her face. It came away covered with bugs. She waved it through the swarm, and then rolled it over her head and across her face again. By the time she had finished, there were very few bugs on her, and the glob of foam was thick with insect bodies, tiny black legs wriggling pathetically.

Hope stepped forward again, the glob of foam ready in her hand. A sudden silence fell, the sort that can occur in a crowded room when everyone pauses from speaking at the same instant. Someone had even shut off the duress alarm.

"I strongly suggest," said Hope firmly, "that you surrender."

To be continued ...