He was still airborne as the chains came down toward other targets. Spright evaded, as did Shortcut. The remains of the wall couldn’t. Chain snagged the remaining parts and flung them away. One chunk came toward me, with Flapper a short distance behind me. It became water in the air, and I was sprayed by what felt like a shower of ice-cold needles, breaking my forcefield in the initial spray, the follow-up pricking my exposed skin, the liquid soaking my costume.

I would have preferred the big chunk of rock.

A truck passed through the gap Trial had made. Spright harassed it. Shortcut followed behind, but without much vigor. He didn’t attack.

They were getting through. The second truck. The third had Sveta on it—she was reaching inside the cab, forcing a hard brake. It had to be the emergency brake she’d grabbed.

“Knock it over!?” Flapper called out to me. “Gently!”

I could do that, especially given the gentle slope away from the proper road with the gridlock of cars. I threw myself at the side of the truck Sveta had stopped. Wretch out. Fingers gripped corrugated metal, digging in until they found purchase in the heavier, sturdier frame.

With flight, some strength, and some attention to pushing on the end where the wheels sat on more of a slope, letting the torque of that initial motion carry through to the front of the eighteen wheeler’s container, then to the cab at the very front. Once it started moving, I flew along the side, arm out, forcefield skimming against the corrugated metal, periodically snagging or catching on it as hands that weren’t mine gripped parts of it.

But the pressure and the push that moved forward helped with using the rotation that was already there. The truck tipped. The wretch gripping metal and the fact that the metal had to tear for the truck to fall was even something of a help.

I flew up, gathered myself, and flew down, kicking at the point between the door and the frame of the vehicle. With the benefit of my forcefield, the kick served to bend metal. That door wouldn’t open easily.

Glancing at the others to make sure there was no imminent danger, I hopped down, and I used my aura to drive the point home. Through the windshield, I could see a face reacting to the aura.

Hopefully he would stay put. Breaking an intact windshield or opening a car door that was above him and damaged would be very difficult.

Flapper’s wings had transformed—each had been an exaggerated overextension of her sleeves, but now they each had middle fingers—lengths in the middle that she was using to attack in time with her wingbeats.