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The Ahmen took the stairs down to the lobby. He ran to the Reception desk where the security monitors continued to display the rotation scan of all thirty-two cameras. According to the roster log Doug had conveniently prepared, there were still five Security men and four Snakeskins in the building. The Ahmen never considered leaving, because he hadn’t come here just for Tower and the name of his boss. What he wanted was below ground. He had to destroy ICARUS to make sure he didn’t exist anywhere in Archer files.
From the monitors, he could see the two roving Security men were in the atrium, making their rounds. Two were sleeping in the first floor lounge and the head of Security was just off the lobby, oblivious to it all. What he needed to do was get the Security men out of the way fast and deal with the Snakeskin Team sweeping the floors looking for him. He heard a door open behind him; that would be the two Rovers returning from the atrium. Perfect. He reached into his thigh holster and pulled out the gas gun. He fired two shots near the door, sending two tear gas canisters onto the floor.
A door opened to his left and another Archer security man entered the lobby, just buckling his pants up. He was Crossfield, the head of Archer Security. He cursed, seeing Doug dead on the floor. He dove to the side, reaching for his gun as the gas canisters exploded.
The lobby filled with tear gas mixed with sarin.
The Ahmen had only enough for two shots, which he let loose in the lobby. Odorless and colorless, it sprayed out in a fine mist, distributed by the aerosol grenade. The droplets flew in all directions before evaporating in the air to form a gas. Inhaled droplets, even in minute quantities, attacked the nervous system causing failure of all respiratory functions.
Victims suffer obstructions and paralysis of the lungs and bronchial tubes, causing shallow, constricted breathing and eventually unconsciousness and cessation of breathing altogether. Vision blurs and muscles collapse until the victim loses control of their body altogether and death was inevitable.
The two Archer Rovers took the full force of the gas as they walked towards the lobby. They turned from healthy men to writhing, tortured souls as they inhaled the droplets of Sarin gas. Their muscles failed them, and their bowels emptied. Their breathing passages closed and their lungs became paralyzed. They died within a minute, the last and only merciful thing they felt.
Crossfield was further away as the gas exploded. He dove for the desk, thinking only of one thing: ICARUS and the trip switch to lockdown the building. First, he had to get past the demon in the Snakeskin. He ignored the dead body of Doug lying near the desk, his blood spread out on the lobby floor. The only mistake he made was to breathe. As he reached the desk, his body absorbed the sarin through his throat and lungs. He felt two great claws rip out his lungs and haul them up through his throat where they caught in the back of his throat. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move his limbs. He fell to the ground, at the feet of this man in the suit. He could see the ICARUS button just a few feet away, under the desk. He made one last effort to move, and almost made it across the desk, as the man in the Snakeskin watched him. The bastard.
Crossfield lay on his back, unable to move, unable to see. He didn’t see the man again, only the lights of the lobby ceiling. Funny, he thought, as the floor vibrated. It felt like the steel walls falling. He thought he heard the ICARUS lockdown alarm wailing. Maybe he made it to the button. He knew nothing for sure. He was dying, but he had to know. He squinted, turning his head towards the lobby entrance. He flailed away with his arm to wipe his eyes. There! For an instant, he could see the beautiful steel curtain covering the entrance; covering all entrances. He made it. The walls had fallen and that bastard would never leave the building alive. Neither would he, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
The Ahmen had found it amusing watching Crossfield try to make it to the ICARUS switch. It would have been an honor for the man to trip it into action, as his last act. The Ahmen was a superstitious man, a believer in the cycles of order and chaos. He hoped Crossfield could die completing his task of securing the building. It was his responsibility, as Head of Security. However, he could see that the man just didn’t have it in him. He would not reach the switch. The Ahmen tripped it himself, all the while watching Crossfield’s face. He saw the look of recognition as the walls fell and the alarm sounded. He saw the man wipe his eyes and struggle to see the lobby doors and that steel curtain that now took their place. The man understood what has happened. The cycle of order and chaos would continue.
The Ahmen had planned to lock down the building. He needed the building sealed, not to keep him inside, but to keep the outside world at bay. Inside Archer, it was just him and the Snakeskins now. Four to one. Armored warriors in the hot zone. Combat in the new millennium. He felt the anticipation in his arms and legs as they relaxed in advance of the action. It was the gift from his gods. He wasn’t the strongest man, or the fittest. His success was his ability to relax in battle, giving him the smooth grace of the predator, moving on instinct, senses alert, in tune with the destiny of the fates.
He left the reception desk, taking one last look at the security cameras monitoring each floor. The Snakeskins were on the move. Good. He reloaded his weapons and crossed the lobby to the stairwell, dropping three grenades across the floor, filling the lobby with thick, gray smoke.