They called them the hazmat angels, because the team of volunteers came an hour every day, with food and supplies when everyone else would rather forget that they existed.
All they had been told was that the lab accident had turned their suburb radioactive, and that they were all quarantined for public safety.
If the place truly was radioactive, they would all be evacuated for medical attention. Only then would the area be walled off to isolate the lingering radiation from the rest of the world.
No, if they were trapped inside, it would not be because of a simple nuclear radiation but something more sinister that had been brewing inside the lab. They could only watch in despair as the lead walls went up, with them still on the wrong side and uncertain if they would ever be free.
The team of volunteers, dressed in their protective hazmat suits, were their only contact with the outside world. They didn’t just bring with them physical necessities during their brief visits, but news and messages from the outside world. They were their brief rays of light in a bleak world.
So when unknown assailants attacked their hazmat angels, there was no way they could have just stood by.
United by their protective anger, they armed themselves with anything they could get their hands on. It was nothing compared to the weapons the assailants had, but they had the advantage of numbers on their side.
For these hazmat angels who reached out to them when the world would rather hide them away, to protect them in turn was the least they could do.