fire alarm

The loudspeaker voice in the ballroom said, “Then by the power vested in me ...”
“I will not allow you to further disrupt this wedding, or tarnish my good name,” Eve said in a triumphant tone. “Gentlemen, please escort him from the premises before he causes a scene.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the bigger goon said. He stepped toward me, glancing down at the blasting rod. “Sir, let’s walk to the doors now.”
Instead, I darted forward, toward the doors, taking the goons by surprise with the abrupt action. “Billy!” I shouted.
The goons recovered in an eyeblink and tackled me. They were professional goons. I went down under them, and it drove the breath out of me.
The loudspeaker voice said, “Man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
I lay there on my back under maybe five hundred pounds of security goon, struggling to breathe and staring at nothing but ceiling.
A ceiling lined with a whole bunch of automated fire extinguishers.
I slammed my head into the Boss Goon’s nose and bit Backup Goon on the arm until he screamed and jerked it away, freeing my right arm.
I pointed the blasting rod up, reached for my power, and wheezed, “Fuego . . .”
Flame billowed up to the ceiling.
A fire alarm howled. The sprinklers flicked on and turned the inside of the hotel into a miniature monsoon.
Chaos erupted. The ballroom was filled with screams. The floor shook a little as hundreds of guests leapt to their feet and started looking for an exit. The security goons, smart enough to realize they suddenly had an enormous problem on their hands, scrambled away from the doorway before they could be trampled.
I got to my feet in time to see a minister fleeing a raised platform, where a figure in Georgia’s wedding dress had hunched over, while Billy, spiffy in his tux, stared at her in pure shock. That much running water grounded out whatever glamour the bride might have been using, and her features melted back into those I’d seen before—she lost an inch or two of height and her proportions changed. Georgia’s rather sharp features flowed into a visage of haunting, unearthly beauty. Georgia’s brown hair became the same green as emeralds and seaweed.
Jenny Greenteeth turned toward Billy, her trademark choppers bared in a viridian snarl, and her hand swept at his throat, inhuman nails gleaming.
Billy may have been shocked, but not so much that he didn’t recognize the threat. His arm intercepted Jenny’s and he drove into her, pushing both hands forward with the power of his arms, shoulders, and legs. Billy had a low center of gravity, and was no skinny weakling. The push sent Jenny back several steps and off the edge of the platform. She fell in a tangle of white fabric and lace.


Side Jobs, Something Borrowed, Page 53-55