The white gas hissed from the vents like angry snakes, curling around the metal lockers and filling the small room with a sickly-sweet chemical fog.
Aria's vision blurred. The air tasted of almonds and death.
Beside her, Damien was convulsing. The contact poison on the notebook cover was a neurotoxin—likely a variant of VX or Sarin, but tailored to trigger a massive histamine reaction. His skin was flushing a dark, angry purple, and his breath was coming in short, strangled gasps as his throat began to close.
"Damien!" Aria screamed, pressing her hands to his chest. "Stay with me! Look at me!"
His golden eyes were rolling back, the pupils blown wide. He gripped her wrist with bruising force, his body fighting a war against itself.
"Leave..." he choked out, his voice a wet rattle. "Vent... small enough... for you."
He pointed a shaking finger at a small, rusted grate near the ceiling.
