Chapter 6 - The Antidote Dilemma
A heavy thud echoed as Vance kicked out the vent cover above the cell corridor. The metal grate crashed to the floor, and a black, cylindrical case dropped down, hanging by a thin nylon cord just out of my reach.
"The case is key-coded," Vance's raspy voice came down from the dark opening in the ceiling. "The input sequence is her birthdate. 04-12. Once the case opens, you must insert the micro-vial into the top port. The unit will synthesize the baseline and unlock the pneumatic needle."
I reached up, grabbed the case, and pulled it down, cutting the cord with my pocket knife. I set it on the guard desk beneath the dim amber light.
The case had a digital keypad. I typed in 0412.
A soft chime sounded, and the motorized latch withdrew. Inside lay a sleek, stainless steel auto-injector, roughly the size of a marker, with a small glass port at the top and a digital readout flashing: WAITING FOR BASELINE SAMPLE.
I held the micro-vial up to the light. It was sealed with a rubber stopper.
"Is this safe?" Emma asked, standing at the cell door, holding onto the iron bars as she watched me with wide, terrified eyes. "Will it make Olivia stop hurting?"
"I hope so, Emma," I said softly.
"Don't trust him, Officer!" a new voice suddenly boomed through the building's emergency intercom system—not Vance's voice, but a sharp, authoritative female tone.
"Attention personnel inside Precinct 7," the voice broadcasted, overriding Vance's local jammer. "This is Director Croft of Aethelgard Security Operations. Marcus Vance is an armed corporate fugitive carrying a high-grade bio-toxin. Do not attempt to administer any compounds found on his person. A tactical containment unit has breached the sub-level."
The heavy steel doors at the top of the basement stairwell exploded inward with a deafening BOOM.
Flashbang grenades detonated in the upper hallway, sending concussive shockwaves tearing down the concrete stairs. The lights flickered and died completely.
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Marcus Vance dropped down from the ceiling vent onto the concrete floor beside me, a dark tactical pistol in his hand.
"They're here," he hissed, his face pale under the light of my dropped flashlight. "They aren't here to rescue anyone. They're here to sanitize the site."
