Noa (October)
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Foxfire, Esq. | Chapter Nine
🕑 Added 2025-01-14 04:41:33 +0000 UTC[CONTENT WARNING — Traumatized people still discussing traumatic events]
“What happened after you arrived on the scene?”
My question hung in the air for longer than was comfortable. Barricade said nothing for a good ten seconds. He just sat there, staring at his hands, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.
“The NMR gave me a motorcycle to get me around,” he began. “I can use my powers to sort of just, give me a track to ride on. I can get up away from traffic, makes it easy to get around and see where I gotta go. I didn’t see the fire at first, just the smoke, but once I got past the Hill, I couldn’t look away…”
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Friday, December 27
It was barely four in the afternoon, but the winter sun had long since started to set. The setting sun behind him cast shadows long and far, darkening the city streets below him.
That darkness made it easier to see the fire. It made the inferno stand out against the rest of the city. And the closer Barricade got, the uglier it became.
The one thing that struck him the most, as he guided his motorcycle off his power-crafted ramp and onto the street, was just how horrendously loud it was. Sure, he’d read enough shitty poetry throughout high school to have heard the term ‘roaring flames’, but it was something else entirely to actually experience it.
It was loud. It was bright. If not for his powers, then the smoke would’ve been burning his eyes, and even through that layer of protection, it still felt like he was breathing the air from an oven.
“Moonie!” Somebody yelled. “Moonie! Over here!”
Barricade looked at the voice and saw a firefighter waving at him. He parked and dismounted from his motorcycle before he jogged over to the man, wracking his brain to try and remember that three-week crash course on what all the stuff on his outfit meant. Was this guy in charge, maybe? Shit, why did he not get refreshers or updates or shit like that? Or even just a list of who was who?
“Barricade, with the NMR, sir!” He fired off the same salute he’d spent over a month of practice on, drilling over and over for hours on end until it was crisp, clean, and military perfect.
“Please tell me they sent me a fireproof one this time!”
“Yes, sir!” He briefly pushed the forcefield that protected him at all times past the surface of his skin and let it become visible, only for it to snap back onto him with an almost painful squeeze. “Built in mask and gear!”
His powers would protect him from the smoke and the heat and the flames. By God did he wish he was allowed to accept more than that, but regs said he couldn’t.
Or else.
“Good, perfect!” The firefighter pointed behind Barricade. He turned to look, and saw a pair of firetrucks, cranes atop them moving closer to the burning building. “Everyone’s off the first two floors, but we gotta evac the higher floors before the fire gets there first, but the structure’s not holding! We need your help getting up there!”
“What!?” Barricade asked, looking between the trucks and the building. They wanted him to…? “What about the stairs!?”
“Gone!”
Shit.
“Okay, let me see what I can do!”
“Make it quick!”
Barricade didn’t bother with a salute in return, and if someone had filmed that, it would mean a week of shitter duty, but right now he didn’t fucking care. He didn’t have time for that. He had to hurry.
A quick jog over to the other fire truck saw a firefighter pressing a radio into his hand and pointing up the building. Barricade wasn’t sure what he meant, damn it, but he had to take a guess. Hook and ladder truck, shit, those were the ones with the big cranes on them, right? Did they want him to make sure the roof was sturdy enough to hold them? Or the windows?
Barricade looked up the side of the building, eyeing the fire escapes on the side. Or what was left of them, at least. The fire escape was just a mess of twisted metal at the base of the building, outright less than useless because now the wreckage was blocking access to some windows. Shit, okay, what was the play here?
“I’m going up top!”
The firefighter gave him a nod and a thumbs up, so clearly that was the correct play, yeah? Could the guy even hear him? Fuck, what did it matter, he had to move, he had to stop wasting time.
Using his power was all too easy. He just had to think about it, and suddenly, there was a solid thing in the air, either invisible or shining moonlight, no in-between. Here, glowing was the better option, so after a moment of focus to bring it into being, Barricade started climbing a brightly glowing ladder, clambering towards the top of the building on all fours. Moments later, he stepped onto the roof’s railing, and hopped down from the railing onto the roof proper—!
His feet never found purchase, and instead of being solid ground, the roof caved in around his feet and Barricade was falling—
“SHIT!”
It was reflex, the kind of thing he never thought he’d have to train but was so insanely goddamn glad he did, because when Barricade reached up to grab for a handhold, his power responded. A solid bar of moonlight appeared in each hand, holding him above the hole that had appeared in the roof. Barricade stared down at the floor, heart pounding in his throat as he looked at the filthy apartment under him. Holy shit, God fucking — that had been close, way, way, way too close. What if he hadn’t reacted in time? Fallen, broken his leg maybe? Or just gotten knocked out by the impact? His shield only stopped stuff from outside, he already knew from that week of stress testing that it wouldn’t do shit to stop a concussion, or a bad landing, or, or—
“—ie! Moonie!” The loud yelling coming from the radio he’d been given snapped him out of it, and Barricade made a platform under him so he could let go of the handholds and check it. “Moonie! You alright!? What’s your status, over!?”
“Roof’s a bust, sir! Fell out from under me!” Barricade yelled back, lowering his shield platform so he could get into the apartment proper. It was a studio; the bathroom had been left open, so he knew nobody was inside, thank fuck. He took a few steps onto the floor of the apartment proper, one hand holding onto a superpower-provided handhold just in case, but while it creaked worryingly, it didn’t give out on him. “Floor’s unstable as fuck, I don’t know how safe it is to get your guys inside from up here, sir, over!”
“God damn it! Alright! Moonie! There’s apartments facing an interior courtyard that we can’t get to from out here; you’re gonna have to be the one to get them! Acknowledge, over!”
“S-sir!?” Barricade gasped. What? He had to… what!? “H-how many are there!? How do I even check!? O-over!”
“Call and response, Moonie! You hear something, you go in and get them to an outer window; if you don’t, you gotta keep moving! Now get a move on! Interior units only, get them to us on the outer ring! Over!”
The radio went dead. That meant… that meant he was on his own now, yeah? It was just him. Just him and God only knew how many apartments. And the fire was getting higher. Shit, fuck, okay, okay he had to keep moving, had to keep his power under him. It was on him.
It was all on him.
Oh, God. No no no, no, he couldn’t stop to think, if he stopped to think he’d stop entirely, he had to keep moving, he had to keep, fucking, going. First thing’s first, out of this apartment, into the building proper. The fire chief told him to stick to the inner units, right, okay, and he had to do a call and response? What if they didn’t hear him? What if — no, no he couldn’t think like that, he just had to try.
The first unit was directly opposite the studio whose window he’d come through. He balled his hand into a fist and banged on the door, hard enough it rocked on its hinges.
“Fire rescue!” Barricade yelled at the top of his lungs. “Call out!”
There was no response. Just the steady, monotonous din of the fire below him as it threatened to crawl higher.
Barricade went one unit clockwise, banged on the door, and yelled again. And when there was still nothing, he moved onto the next one, and did it again. And when that one also had nothing, he moved on to the fourth unit, banged on the door—
His fist knocked the door off its hinges. It fell back into the apartment behind it, revealing a room that probably deserved the fire, and a smell like death, and… God he hoped nobody was in here, but he wasn’t waiting to find out. He didn’t have the time for that.
So he kept moving, onto the next door, then the next. And finally, nine doors in, he found someone.
“Fire rescue! Call out!”
“—n here!” The voice was muffled by the door, but still audible over the fire. It was a man, and he sounded pained. “Please, please I need help, oh God!”
Barricade didn’t need any other invitation. The field under his feet extended up past his head, pointing out in a wedge. He took a few steps back, and with as good of a running start as the hallway allowed, he shoved that wedge into the edge of the door frame. The wood splintered and crumbled around him, and once he let the shield fall back to just his feet, his eyes fell on the man calling for him.
The resident was an older black man, sprawled out on the floor with his arm extending towards a pair of crutches. There was a prosthetic leg laying on the sofa maybe five feet away from him, but once Barricade saw the way one leg ended just past the knee and the other didn’t even extend past the end of his shorts, he realized that there wasn’t a chance in hell he would’ve made it out without help.
Barricade ran over to the man and kneeled down, spreading his power’s shield under the old man.
“Hang tight! I’m gonna get you out of here!” Barricade didn’t wait for permission. He knew he was supposed to, but fuck permission, the building was on fire and he was barely a quarter done with one floor!
“M-my leg! I need m’leg!” The man cried, squirming and thrashing even as Barricade threw him over a shoulder.
“No time!” Barricade’s shields shimmered into existence, holding the man against his shoulder by a band around Barricade’s arm and the civvie’s midsection. He stomped out of the apartment, ignoring the man’s attempts to get out of his grasp or yell in his ear to go back for the leg, and just used another shield to force open the apartment across from the man’s. Once he was at the window, he grabbed his radio, keying it.
“This is Barricade! I have a civvie on the fifth floor ready for pickup!” Nobody answered for two seconds. Shit, wait, no. “O-over!”
The radio crackled, and a welcome voice came over the line.
“Which window are you at, over!?”
“Did you see which one I went in!? One for yes, two for no, over!” The radio crackled once, thank fuck. “Clockwise from there, at the corner, over!”
“Copy, Moonie! If the floor’s good just set ‘em down and get moving! No time to waste, over!”
Barricade looked at the apartment he’d broken into. It was an almost barren unit, with nothing but a camping chair, a dirty twin mattress, and a shitty TV screen. He dragged the camper chair over by the window, carefully set his rescuee down, and then left quick as he could. He was supposed to stay with the guy until someone else grabbed him, according to protocol. But protocol didn’t say shit about what to do when he was alone in a burning building, and the firefighters said not to wait.
So he didn’t.
“Fire rescue! Call out!”
He kept going instead.
“Fire rescue! Call out!”
“Help, help! I’m in here, please, help!”
Another one. He got her and her baby out, but he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t take a breather. He couldn’t stand still. He couldn’t sit down, not for even a moment.
“Fire rescue! Call out!”
Because if he did, he might not be able to get back up.
“Fire rescue! Call out!”
The seconds bled into minutes, and each minute felt like another hour. He may not have felt the heat or been able to inhale smoke thanks to his powers, but that did nothing to help against fatigue. The adrenaline that’d given him a kickstart was fading now, he could tell; the NMR had made sure he and his fellow supers all knew what a crash felt like, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He had to keep going. He was done with the fifth floor now, but there were still two more, he thought, as he used his power to slide down the stairs, because every second counted.
He had to keep looking.
“F-fire rescue! Call, call out!”
But try as he might, he was only human. He was just one person, doing a job meant for a full team of five or more.
“Fir—!”
A sudden sharp pain in his throat sent him stumbling to his knees, coughing and gasping for air. He tried to wet his lips, but his mouth was too dry for that.
Barricade pushed to his feet, and tried to yell again. But his voice was too weak. It was strained, too quiet. He couldn’t hear himself over the sound of the fire around him. He tried again, but still not enough. He couldn’t get the volume. Something in his throat hurt. It hurt worse than he thought it should, from just yelling too much. But the pain — no, no that wasn’t an option. He was still here. He couldn’t let the pain matter. His voice didn’t work anymore.
His arms and legs still did. And his power was still there.
The wedge-shape came up around him again. Three steps back, two forward, and through—!
He burst through the door, and looked through the apartment he’d landed in. He didn’t see anybody. No movement, no nothing.
So he left, and went onto the next one. And the next one. And the next. And when he found someone, he silently carried them towards the outside, pushed his shield outside, and flashed it. The shield went from transparent to shining and back, five times, and that was as good as he could get. The civvies were yelling for their rescue though, he could swear he heard that. But he didn’t have time to stop and listen, none of them did, especially not him. He had to keep moving, to keep searching.
There were eight people on the fourth floor. And once he’d gotten them out, Barricade knew what came next. He had to go down once more. He had to go right into the fire.
Again he slid down the stairs. Again he burst out onto a floor that was hotter and more dangerous than the last. But this time it was worse. Oh, god, but it was so much worse.
The hallway was already on fire. The flames crawled from the outlets to the vents, burning the cheap carpet black with a stench he knew he’d never forget. He pushed his power’s shield past his skin so it covered his entire suit, and got started.
Three knocks, then barging in, and looking for any movement, same deal as before. Except some of the doors on this floor were already open, and the apartments behind them were already little more than bonfires. Even if somebody was in there, he didn’t have the time to check, and he didn’t have the voice left to yell. He just had to keep going, just had to keep moving clockwise, checking inside every door he could open.
But at some point, Barricade lost track of where he’d started. Which of these open doors had he already checked? There’d been a row of five open doors, hadn’t there been? Which ones were his, and which ones were already open before he got there? No, shit, he needed to be sure. Another circuit, another lap. He had to look again, he couldn’t be sure until he checked again, where was—
“—nie, she’s comin’ down! Ya gotta get outta there right now Moonie! Hurry, the walls aren’t gonna hold for long!”
Dread and panic gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He was out of time. Had he checked all of them? He wasn’t sure, but — no, fuck, damn it he was out of time, he wasn’t able to check—
“Get your ass outta there! That’s an order, Moonie!”
He had to trust that he’d done enough. That he’d gotten everyone.
Barricade grit his teeth, slammed through another too-flimsy door to an outside unit, and used his power to give himself a slide straight down to the ground. He tried to stick the landing, but he was going too fast at the end, and just rolled along the ground until he fell off the curb and came to a halt face-down on the pavement. He tried to get up, but it was so hard, and he was so damn tired. His hands went to the street below to push himself up. But he couldn’t.
He was too tired. It was all he could do to just breathe.
He heard something new. Someone yelling at him, maybe? It sounded so far away, like it was coming from all the way down the block. But that wasn’t right, he was still right in front of the building.
Barricade blinked, and blinked again. He needed to close his eyes, and just breathe.
Just so he could catch his breath.
Only for a moment.
Only…
only a… quick breather…
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“... and… and the next thing I knew, I was in a hospital room. I… fuck, I don’t know how much later that was. I-I, I just…”
Barricade trailed off and cradled his head in his hands, fingers twining through close-cropped blond hair. He had long since taken off the police helmet he wore, clearly not caring if the three of us saw his face anymore. He was already laying his soul bare; at that point, what difference did his face make?
“I didn’t know,” he said, voice thick with the tears he refused to let himself shed. “God, I swear I didn’t know. I, I — what was I supposed to do? It was just me. It was only me!”
His voice rose to a yell even as it cracked, and that slip was all it took for the dam to break. Barricade’s shoulders shook as he finally let himself cry the tears he’d probably been holding since the moment he’d learned what happened. All the guilt, the shame, the endless cavalcade of what-ifs and ways he could’ve done things differently, how things might have turned out if he’d just been faster, just been stronger, just been some level of better.
A glance at Julio and Fatima showed that both of them had long since stopped taking notes, and looked away from the superhero out of either respect or pity. Seeing this, I sighed, stood up from my chair, and made my way around the table. Megan gave me a thankful look as she scooted her chair further from Barricade, and locked eyes with my two junior attorneys. I wasn’t about to judge. For his own sake, she needed to be looking away from Barricade.
Away from the sobbing wreck that I’d seen every time the military broke another one of its shiny toy soldiers by pushing too hard.
I walked over to Barricade and set a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, sitting on the table as I leaned closer. “I’m sorry we made you do this. I know it hurts, believe me, I know it does because I’ve been where you are now. And it’s hard to even imagine this, but… it’s not your fault, hun. You did everything you could. I know you did.”
I was probably going to eat a formal complaint for this. But you know what? Fuck it.
I’d been where Barricade was now, crying my heart out, desperately praying and pleading and begging that anybody would understand, that anybody would look past the ‘disgraced hero’ and see just how badly I was hurting. And Gorou tried, lord knows he did, but… it wasn’t the same. There was one thing that I’d wanted back then. One thing that I’d never gotten.
And I’d be damned if Barricade had to endure the same torture I did.
So I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulled him close, and told him that everything would be okay. I held him tight, and let him know that somebody was here. I gave Barricade what nobody gave me:
A warm hug, and a shoulder to cry on. Nothing more.
