Pope’s team was scattered all over the warehouse. Wolf had been too late to stop O’Shea, but he’d be damned if he were going to let anyone else die tonight. The humanitarian bit was going to be complicated, Silhouette had reminded him that the cops had a vague description of ‘a guy in armor’ from the activities at the yacht club, and they were already on the trigger happy side. Wolf didn’t want to play the Spider-Man role, but he couldn’t let himself be taken in for questioning either. There was just too much at stake at higher levels.
The chemical fires were spreading faster than he could move; meaning the situation was going from worse to FUBAR. Unnatural colors and intense heat blazed as he swept about the area, snatching cop and criminal alike and depositing them at a safe distance. Emergency teams were still a good distance off, and the harbor based fire crews could do no more than try and contain the blaze.
One of the officers grabbed Wolf’s arm as he set him down, “Pope… Sheldal went in for Pope…” The young cop’s voice rasped, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. He’d taken a face full of something bad, eyes swollen shut and horrible blisters covering his head, neck, and hands.
“I’ll get them out,” clutching the man’s hand. “You stay strong until the paramedics get here. I’ll get them out.” The man would be dead before the emergency crews arrived. Whatever caused the external wounds had destroyed his lungs.
Once again, Bluewolf sprinted into the flaming building nearly colliding with The Fox. “Why am I not surprised?” Her voice was muffled by the gas mask covering her face.
“Can it. What are you doing here?” Several small explosions went off in the distance.
“Keeping an eye on Andy, what are you doing here? Where is he?”
“You’re a little late, but I was doing the same thing,” Wolf couldn’t bring himself to tell her Pope may already be dead. “Right now I’m saving lives. Pope’s over that way,” he gestured to one of the built in storage rooms, “Have you seen his partner?”
“No,” Fox turned toward the room Wolf had indicated, but he caught her shoulder before she could take off.
“Here,” one of his thigh compartments popped open and he handed her a small cylinder. “Concentrated foam – should be enough to clear the area and clear your way out. Get in and gone as fast as you can, the air is toxic.”
Her lens covered eyes softened slightly, “Thanks.” Then she disappeared in the billowing smoke.
A closer explosion and cry of pain served as a needless reminder why he was here. Springing into action, he quickly located Pope’s partner, Detective Angela Sheldal. One of the interior laboratory walls had collapsed, pinning her under a pile of debris. Bluewolf knelt down to check Angela’s vitals – weak but still alive. He produced a small rebreather mask from another compartment in his suit and secured it to her face, then turned to the task of tossing away the rubble that held her trapped in the inferno. Her leg was broken in at least one place, the gruesome angle was enough to attest to that, but it was the sound of a hammer being cocked that tore Wolf’s attention away from Angela’s injury.
The barrel shook in her unsteady grasp, “Here to finish the job?” Angela’s voice wheezed beneath the breathing apparatus.
For all she knew, he was working for Begnini, “Quite the opposite, actually,” he gently pointed the gun away from his head. Lifting her up as gently as he could, Wolf still watched her face screw up in intense pain. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Detective.” More explosions thundered around them. “Let me get you out of here. If you still want to shoot me after that, well… we’ll have to discuss that when you get out of the hospital.”
“Andy… where’s… Andy?” she asked weakly.
“He’s safe…,” she had slipped back into unconsciousness as he ran for the exit to the docks and semi-clean air. I hope.
Bluewolf had deposited Angela directly into the hands of the paramedics and left the scene. Entirely too many authorities were swarming the area. He resisted the urge to contact Kardiac, opting to head home instead. The night had been long and he had the feeling things weren’t going to be getting better anytime soon.
Entering his brownstone from the roof, Aaron made his way through the house, peeling off bits and pieces of his suit as he went. There was a faint familiar scent in the air, but his senses were still mucked up from all the smoke and fumes from the fire. The sounds of the floor squeaking and light from underneath the door to his study made him take pause. He was still half in costume, Maybe if I hit them hard enough, they won’t remember what they saw… He was not in the mood to deal lightly with any intruders. Throwing caution aside, he burst into the study to find Jenna Fairchild sitting behind his antique oak desk.
Tossing aside the usual bombardment of sarcastic remarks, Jenna looked him dead in the eye, “We have a problem.”
Aaron relaxed slightly, “You mean other than the five alarm blaze at the docks that I had to leave because the cops think I’m associated with Begnini?”
“How about serious enough for me to come tell you personally at this ungodly hour of the morning,” it wasn’t a question.
“Okay, okay… what’s gone down now?”
Jenna took a deep breath, then came out with it, “We’ve lost contact with the team that was guarding your fiancée…”