Hazmat Suit Stranger Things Novels & Stories

"Where's my spacesuit?" "The decontamination unit could not cleanse it of alien microbes, so I disposed of it. The outfit is the one the females of my world wear." Lovely, I've been kidnapped by an alien culture that dresses their women like sex kittens. On second thought, this might advance my plan to explore further physical intimacies between our two races. Certain she would look foolish in such an erotic getup, Penny, nevertheless, draped herself in it. The material hung somewhat loosely around the waist, obviously made for a larger-sized woman and, as suspected, made her look like some kind of harem girl instead of a serious researcher.

They looked familiar and reassuring in their long leather overcoats and peaked star-decorated helmets, but a second glance confirmed Svetlana’s worst fears: their eyes squirmed with black spiders and the stars on their helmets were spiky and black instead of red. “Halt!” their leader yelled as Svetlana and Andrei retreated toward the entrance doors. The Patrolmen pulled out their electric torches, and their beams, dazzling even in the brightness of the foyer, converged on the two. Svetlana automatically stopped. Electricity killed the Enemy, but everybody knew that it was harmless and even beneficial to true citizens. Perhaps now they would see that she was no Enemy spawn, that her father ha

She then went ahead to pack her hair in an updo, revealing her slender neck before turning to her uniform. A corporate attire of black tight-fitting pants, a white button up shirt and a bow tie, coupled with nice black heels that were comfortable enough to work on and a pair of earrings for finishing touches. When she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror and smiled. Danica was beautiful, she knew it and everyone who ever laid eyes on her knew it. She picked up her bag, right at the same moment, her phone rang. Tristan was the one calling and for a strange reason, it made her heart skip a bit. They had been talking good the past few days till it was late in the night. But she never t

The answer is ignorant. Ellthan took out something in his pocket, a necklace whose pendant was in the shape of a sun. Aiora is silent when Ellthan puts the necklace on, Aiora knows that the necklace is not just an ordinary necklace but like bugging and GPS maybe? "You don't believe me?" Asked Aiora sarcastically. "Yes." Ellthan replied annoying, making Aiora groaned irritated, he wanted to scratch the handsome face in front of him. "Come on." Invite Ellthan to embrace Aiora's waist possessive, take him out of the room.

"Conspiracy." "Obstruction of justice." The stranger nodded thoughtfully. "Reasonable." Then, with astonishing speed, he tossed something onto the ground. A small metallic sphere. Bethwel's instincts screamed. "Get back!" The sphere burst. Not into flames. Into thick white smoke. Within seconds, the stranger vanished. Gone. As though he had never existed. Bethwel cursed. His officers rushed into the smoke. Nothing. No footprints. No vehicle. No body. Only a black communication earpiece, lying on the ground.

He looked at her outfit with confusion. He'd never seen his mother wear such a thing. She was wearing a form-fitting bodysuit in deep charcoal silk-rubber weave, supple enough for acrobatics yet reinforced at joints with kevlar-thin panels. A layered asymmetrical tunic dyed in muted indigo, its angled hem breaking up her outline under moonlight and a high, raised collar that shields her throat and conceals the lower edge of a half-mask.

He wore matching black sweatpants and moved with a silent, deadly speed. My eyes widened as I recognized the outfit. It was the same stranger from the bar. The one who had saved me from Dickson earlier. He stood there, his face was still covered by the shadows of his hood, looking entirely unimpressed by the group of thugs in front of him. “Who the fvck are you now?” Dickson barked, still holding Avery by the throat but turning his torso to face the newcomer. “You want a piece of this too, hero?”

‎I stepped into the building, nodded at security, and entered the elevator, still checking my phone. ‎No reply. ‎Still nothing. ‎I told myself to stop. ‎The elevator doors opened. ‎Laughter echoed from the hallway. ‎The kind of laughter people make when they forget where they are. ‎It was loud. ‎Too loud. ‎That alone was strange. ‎My people knew when to work and when to be serious. I had a strict policy about that, and I didn’t joke with it. ‎I slowed my steps but didn’t stop. ‎Maybe someone had just made a joke.

As we finished washing up, Connor directed me to a different door than the one we had entered, leading to a narrow, sterilization room. Just inside hung several hazmat suits, the type specifically designed for doctors working on potentially infected patients, and other delicate procedures. “These are level 4 suits,” he explains as we step into sleek suits printed with the Ouroboros Biotech logo. Level 3 suits were used for the most contagious viruses. “I didn’t know they made level 4 suits,” I expressed, impressed.

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.