I disconnected my mask from my belt, and I hurled it ahead of me and down, toward the center mass of the device and the people clustered around it. My hopes that the mask’s passage would activate the lasso-closures and clear my way were dashed. It landed in the midst of the work they were doing, and heads turned my way.

The ‘dash’ became the sequence of movements through that webwork, as more lines and bars of forcefield-webbing filled the sky between me and my targets. The Wretch was broken as soon as it re-emerged, and I had calls close enough that I nearly lost a boot as the webwork closed.

I was losing this battle, but I could get closer.

There had to be an opportunity.

The webwork steadily closed around me, and theoretically possible escape routes became impossibilities. My focus remained on staying clear, sticking to more open areas, where no lasso could close around me.

Far below and behind, Byron climbed over a fence, making his way in my direction. I pointed.

People on the ground seemed to report my action, or they’d sensed Byron through the use of a power. The ones who weren’t actively setting up the door prepared to deal with him.

Too many for him to reasonably deal with. Even if he drenched every single one of them now, if every single gun failed because of the thorough drenching with water, I wasn’t sure he’d win. Thirty people, easily.

I saw the nervousness of the woman with the trash bag in her hand. She backed up, putting some distance between Byron and herself, while her people lined up at the fence. Blue motes began to collect in the air, which didn’t help matters.

Come on, come on, I thought.

Then I couldn’t watch. More beams were flying in close, and I had to use the Wretch while throwing myself into the densest patch. The rectangles and triangles of empty space closed, paused for only an instant as they seized the wretch, giving me only a second to figure out which direction I was flying in.

I was literally upside down as I saw it—a flash of purple. Her hand drawn back, flame ready. Byron’s arrangement of motes included the air above him.

The webwork snapped closed around my upper body and one of my ankles.

I pushed out with my aura, for maximum range. I wasn’t sure the power mattered, but I gave that my all too. I squeezed my eyes shut.

The aura reached the woman and reached the flame she held. The aura ignited—the woman’s fire spread across powers like flame across oil, and I’d filled the space within a hundred feet of me with ambient power. Gas. Aerosol.