Chapter 70 - The Oxygen Equation
"Never," I said, stepping between Arthur and the pedestal, anchoring my feet to the cold floor.
"Sarah," Marcus murmured, his peripheral vision monitoring both flanks, his voice a razor-sharp whisper through his teeth. "Seven o'clock. The conduit box behind the door frame. If the nitrogen engages, shoot the junction valve."
Brandt saw the shift in Marcus's weight. Panic flickered across the old doctor's face—the panic of a man who realized his dead-man's switch was no longer an absolute shield. "He's going to fire, Arthur! Kill him!"
Brandt lunged for the manual bypass lever mounted beside the marble console.
"Victor, wait!" Arthur barked, but it was too late.
The vault reacted to the premature manual override with a violent mechanical scream. From the high ceilings, high-pressure pipes hissed violently, spewing thick, milky clouds of freezing vapor. The temperature plummeted forty degrees in an instant, frosting my eyelashes and turning the air into razor blades that burned my lungs with every ragged breath.
Marcus fired.
The sharp report of his sidearm cracked like thunder within the enclosed concrete chamber. The round didn't hit Brandt—it tore straight through the primary hydraulic actuator of the blast door, severing the heavy electrical harness in a shower of brilliant white sparks.
"Move!" Marcus roared, grabbing the collar of my tactical jacket and shoving me toward the heavy steel desk bolted to the western wall.
Arthur did not draw a weapon. Instead, he lunged toward the marble pedestal, snatching the brass safe deposit box containing his personal journals and the sequencing keys. But Brandt, driven mad by fear of the freezing gas pooling around our knees, grappled with Arthur, clawing at the cylinder.
"It belongs to me!" Brandt shrieked, his silver hair instantly coated in white frost. "I bled for this foundation while you hid in the shadows!"
May you like
"You fool!" Arthur snarled, slamming an elbow into Brandt's throat with unnatural speed and ferocity. "You broke the cycle!"
The transport cylinder slipped from Brandt’s frozen fingers, spinning across the iced floor directly toward my boots.
