It was a small vial, a chemistry lab sample he had in his backpack.
It shattered against Monica, the liquid splashing, acting as a neutralizing agent and counteracting her own poison.
She collapsed, gasping for breath and choking on her own toxin.
The FBI medics rushed in, treating both of us with gas masks, oxygen, and antidotes.
Monica Freeman was arrested but was barely alive.
I breathed, trying to recover, looking at my baby brother, Elliot, who saved my life.
"Three down," I managed.
One left.
The last and definitely not the least was Terence Kane.
He was Charles Sterling's ultimate hand-to-hand combat specialist, and he appeared suddenly amidst the chaos.
He moved with deadly precision and targeted Elliot directly.
I was still weak, my vision still blurry from the poison, but I put myself between them anyway.
"You want him? You go through me."
Kane stopped, looked at me, and smiled.
"With pleasure."
He attacks quickly and uses perfect technique.
