The winged suit unfurled its wings as it twisted in the air, more acrobatic than the other two. Each wing was made of slats, top and bottom ends set at diagonals, each slat connected to the next, getting larger as they got further from the main suit. With the unfurling, the wings glowed, and the slats replicated with projected images, each added slat taller than the last, with the final segments punching into the ceiling and floor both, right by the door. Our group scattered, cut in half by the image. The glow of the projected wings faded a second or two after the ‘impact’, but the damage remained, and a combination of smoke and concrete dust served to cloud our vision.

We took what cover was available. Filtration systems the size of four-story buildings were spaced out around the ‘room’, pipes big enough to drive a truck through feeding out of those systems into wall, floor, and ceiling. The domed ceiling high above us, accommodating the structures, and concrete fences were set here and there to ward employees away from dangerous parts of the structure.

Those concrete fences were our cover, until Tristan got something more put together.

I took the weird route, flying out and closer to the incoming fire from the tinkers on the ground, letting the Wretch take a hit, then grabbing the concrete fence, maneuvering myself into a spot between two capes. Fume Hood and the harpoon guy.

Fume Hood reached a hand in front of her and three orbs appeared, manifesting from a place I couldn’t see on the far side of her hand, then circling around, small yellow-green moons in orbit around her hand.

She clenched her fist, and the orbs flickered, grew darker, a bit more misshapen.

Fist relaxed, her index and middle finger extended. The three orbs flicked out, until there was one at her fingertips, another a couple of inches past it, and a third another couple of inches past that. She twisted around, flinging her arm and peeking over cover in the same instant.

I had a glimpse of it as I abandoned my spot and flew over to where the smoke was clearing, Sveta was helping Rain get past the broken ground. I was their human shield as they hurried to the concrete fence. Off in the distance, Fume Hood’s shots hit home. A dark green smoke covered the thralls at the top of one of the filtration systems.

Rain and Sveta squeezed in to spots along the curved concrete fence, tall enough to sit against or crouch by, not so tall that we could stand without head and shoulders in plain view. Some other capes hurried over. They might have been from Stonewall’s group. We got some Heartbroken too. Samuel, Chastity.