Chapter 6 - The Lethal Dosage
Time seemed to slow down as the deadly poison traveled through the plastic IV tube toward Clara's fragile arm.
I did not have time to run down the stairs and physically stop the mercenary doctor.
I raised my suppressed pistol, aiming through the thick, reinforced observation glass.
I fired three consecutive shots at the exact same point on the glass, shattering the bulletproof integrity.
My fourth shot tore through the weakened hole and struck the deadly syringe right out of the fake doctor's hand.
The glass shattered into a million pieces, raining down onto the sterile surgical floor below.
Julian screamed in pure shock, dropping his scalpel and diving for cover behind a massive medical monitor.
The mercenary anesthesiologist drew a concealed handgun from his medical coat and aimed it wildly at the observation deck.
I vaulted over the broken window frame, dropping twenty feet straight down into the operating room.
I landed heavily on top of the fake doctor, driving my knee brutally into his chest and knocking the wind out of his lungs.
He tried to raise his weapon, but I disarmed him with a swift, bone-breaking twist to his wrist.
I delivered a devastating strike to his temple, rendering the elite assassin completely unconscious on the cold floor.
I rushed over to Clara, frantically tearing the IV line out of her arm before any remaining poison could enter her bloodstream.
Clara was weeping hysterically, her body convulsing with massive, agonizing contractions as active labor intensified.
"I have you, sweetheart, you are entirely safe now," I whispered, kissing her sweaty forehead.
Julian peeked out from behind the medical monitor, his pristine white doctor's coat covered in broken glass.
He looked at his unconscious assassin and then glared at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred.
He realized his god-like control over the situation had been completely obliterated by a single woman.
Julian did not try to fight me in hand-to-hand combat.
Instead, he scrambled backward toward the heavy steel blast doors of the operating room.
He slammed his hand onto a red emergency lockdown button mounted on the wall.
The massive steel doors slammed shut, sealing Clara and me inside the airtight surgical bunker.
Julian smiled viciously through the small reinforced window in the door.
He picked up the room's intercom microphone and laughed softly.
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He announced that he was manually triggering the bunker's hazardous material sterilization protocol.
In exactly three minutes, the ventilation system would flood the room with a highly toxic, corrosive gas that would melt our lungs.
