Hazmat Suit Stranger Things Novels & Stories

“Hey, calm down. Nat? Nat. . .please. . .” Natasha breathed hard. Her head was spinning. The whole world was spinning. But she returned her gaze to Lucas’s face. He was real. She was no longer dreaming. He was here with her. They were—wait, where were they? Natasha lowered her face to the bed, the silky covers, the clothes on her. Instead of her nanotech supersuit given to her by Dr. Patterson, Natasha discovered that she was wearing a strange kind of clothing. It was silky and embroidered with tiny magenta flowers. She could not tell if it was a dress or a robe.

However, I could tell that the destruction left behind was bad. Paramedics were moving all about carrying dead bodies and I could also see people wearing white Hazmat jumps suit picking up pieces of creatures that I had never seen the before and putting them in body bags. They had a DEN initial on their suits as they worked. I had no idea what their purpose were. I parked the vehicle and stepped down. Automatically, Xena and I made our way to the briefing room where my Delta Commander was explaining to the best of his ability what the heck had attacked us.

Tuck hesitates but nears her bed anyway. Cole watches as he set the bag down and unpacked its contents. He spreads each item on the white bed sheet. She stares at the strange outfits and mask. One outfit was black thermal with a hood to it. While the second was some kind of astronaut suit? “You’re going to have to change into this… Doctor’s orders.” Tuck explains. “This thermal one might be a little loose. I modified it to unzip in the back and the pant legs too. I have plenty of socks for you and gloves. The others predict it’ll be a five-day journey.”

Ava The harsh plasticky crinkle of the hazmat suit was the only sound that filled my ears as we stepped into the deathly-silent Packhouse. The familiar scent of wood and pack life was overwhelmed by the acrid smell of decay and chemicals, even through the plastic shield covering my face. My eyes widened behind the protective visor as I took in the devastation around us. “Oh, Goddess,” I breathed, momentarily grateful for the way that my cracking voice was muffled by the suit. Tears pricked at my eyes as I surveyed the damage that had wrought our dear Packhouse.

She gestured and closed the door. I huffed and faced the mirror and place the black beating suit over my body. As I stared at it, I couldn't imagine myself going out of this place wearing this. My shoulders slumped and I scratched my head. If I only know that there is no work at the flowershop today, I won't report and just go grocery shopping since my house is out of stock.

I drove the glass shard into the soft seal of the hazmat suit’s boot. The man let out a muffled cry as the suit hissed, losing pressure. He stumbled, his rod hitting the side of a nearby vat. **CRACK.** The glass of the vat didn't shatter, but the electrical surge from the rod scrambled the electronics. The screen on the side of that tank flickered. **[ASSET-4022: STATUS - DISCONNECTED]** Inside the tank, an old woman’s eyes snapped open. She began to thrash, her silent screams forming bubbles in the gel.

All he wears is a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants -- somehow, that only makes him hotter. However, something bizarre catches my attention. The stranger is glowing a faint, sparkling pink.

She could see the camera out of the corner of her eye still blinking when the door flew open. "Porter, get the fuck out." Detective Brownstone growled holding the door open. Brownstone was about five foot five and slim, she wore shiny black derby shoes, a pair of dark gray tweed suit pants and a black suit vest over a navy button up. She was accessorized with a black tweed skinny tie, a black leather belt, and a shoulder holster, which held her gun. Chloe had no idea what kind of gun it was, but she was sure that Brownstone was very effective with it when she needed to be.

Grace's treasured black stone was surrounded by seven or eight custom heat blowers that cleared the black mist from its surface on a continuous basis. Braum was stunned and had no idea what was going on. However, when he saw the suddenly appearing special agents and the hazmat suits they were wearing, he had a vague suspicion that something big had happened. "Dr. Jennings, what's going on?" Chad had no intention of explaining despite Braum's bewildered expression. "Don't worry; nothing will happen. Pretend you didn't see or know anything." Braum refrained from asking any further questions. He had long suspected that Chad's identity was unusual, but he had not expected it to be so extraordina

She could get seriously hurt—or worse. He stopped and gently set her down. Then he began stripping off the fire-resistant suit. “What are you doing?” Cassandra gasped, fear rising again. “It’s too risky for you to go out there unprotected,” he said. “You wear this. I’ll get you out.” “But what about you, Uncle?” she asked, eyes wide, voice trembling. “We’re both getting out of here. Just trust me.” She nodded, biting her lip. Her eyes never left him as he finished peeling off the suit. With shaky hands, she put it on, buttoned it up, and let Marc fasten the helmet over her head.