The survivors moved with the desperate efficiency of the doomed. Sarah and two others transferred Lily to a gurney, wrapping her in blankets, their movements swift and gentle. Ben disappeared down the stairwell, a wild look in his eyes, on a mission to turn the floor below into a massive chemical bomb.
Leo didn't watch them go. He was already at work, his mind a blueprint of malicious compliance and janitorial sabotage. He had less than five minutes.
First, the floor. He retrieved the precious vial of [Corpse-Guzzler Slime]. He didn't waste it by making puddles. He uncorked it and ran down the main corridor toward the elevators, dragging the opening of the vial along the floor, leaving a nearly invisible, impossibly slick trail of lubricant covering the entire fifty-yard stretch of linoleum. Any enemy moving at speed would find themselves in an involuntary ice-skating routine.
Next, the sprinkler system. A hospital's greatest weakness. Ben had mentioned the oxygen. Leo intended to add a second ingredient. He looked up at a sprinkler head. He couldn't set it off, but he could prime it.
[Improvise Tool]! He combined his thoughts with his multi-tool, creating not a weapon, but a specialized key, a Sprinkler Head Wrench. He jammed it into the sprinkler head and gave it a sharp twist. He wasn't activating it; he was breaking the fusible link, the small piece of metal designed to melt in a fire. Water immediately began to pour out.
He ran down the hall, breaking two more sprinkler heads. Cold water rained down, soaking the floor and mixing with the slime, turning his slick trap into a chaotic, unpredictable slip-n-slide from hell.
Finally, the fire hose. He dragged the heavy canvas hose to the center of the hall, positioning it to face the direction of the Adjuster's approach. He aimed the heavy brass nozzle and braced it between an overturned vending machine and a supply cart, creating a stationary water cannon. But water wasn't enough.
He took the oxygen tank he'd 'borrowed'. He ripped the regulator off with his crowbar, then used a generous amount of duct tape to secure the high-pressure nozzle of the tank to the input valve of the fire hose.
It was an insane, dangerous, and physically nonsensical setup. But with a final touch of the [Improvise Tool] skill, he imagined a temporary, functional 'Gas/Liquid Infuser'. A faint blue shimmer enveloped the jury-rigged connection, the System reinforcing the impossible combination.
He turned the valve on the oxygen tank. The hose swelled and stiffened, not with water, but with a highly-pressurized, highly-flammable gas. He was no longer holding a fire hose. He was holding a high-volume flamethrower that just hadn't been lit yet.
Just as he finished, a low, rumbling explosion echoed from the floor below. Ben had done it. A draft of cool, pure oxygen began to rise up the elevator shafts and stairwells. The entire area was now a catastrophic fire hazard waiting for a spark.
Leo took his position at the far end of the hall, near the turnoff to the roof stairwell, and waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
The Adjuster appeared at the end of the hall, stepping out of the main stairwell with the same unruffled calm as before. He took one step onto the slicked floor and his leg shot out from under him. For a fraction of a second, his perfect composure broke. His arms flailed as he fought to stay upright. He was an artist of precision and control, and Leo had plunged him into a world without friction.
The Adjuster recovered instantly, his feet planting themselves with unnatural stability. He was adapting, defying the physics of the trap. He took another slow, careful step, his eyes glowing with a cold, analytical fury. He saw the broken sprinklers, the fire hose, the general state of weaponized disarray.
"A commendable, if primitive, attempt at area denial," the Adjuster's voice echoed in the hall, devoid of its earlier silkiness, now flat and toneless. "Your employment is terminated."
He raised his hand. A small, black orb of energy, a perfect sphere of anti-life, formed in his palm.
Leo didn't give him the chance to use it. He kicked the lever on the fire hose.
An immense, silent torrent of pure oxygen erupted from the brass nozzle. It wasn't a stream of water; it was a focused, invisible hurricane. It hit the Adjuster center mass. The force was so great it lifted him off his feet and sent him rocketing backward down the hall, his limbs flailing.
He flew through the oxygen-rich air, a helpless projectile heading straight for the main elevator bank at the end of the lobby.
Leo knew the oxygen blast alone wouldn't be enough. He needed a spark.
He raised his pistol, a weapon that had been useless against chitin and magic. He didn't aim at the Adjuster. He aimed at the flickering, exposed electrical panel next to the elevator bank, the one whose sparks had danced harmlessly until now.
He fired.
The bullet struck the panel. The spark leaped from the frayed wires, a tiny seed of fire.
When it met the super-oxygenated air, the world turned white.
It wasn't an explosion. It was a deflagration—a wave of incandescent flame that expanded with impossible speed, consuming all the available fuel in a fraction of a second. A silent, white-hot tidal wave of fire washed down the entire corridor.
Leo was already diving through the doorway to the roof access stairwell, slamming the heavy fire door shut a millisecond before the wave hit. The metal door glowed cherry-red, the heat so intense it buckled the frame. The sound, when it finally arrived, was a deafening, whooshing roar.
He lay on the landing, his ears ringing, the smell of burnt oxygen searing his nostrils. He had turned an entire wing of the hospital into a thermobaric bomb. He had faced a corporate agent of unknown power and hit him with the most hostile takeover imaginable.
He waited for a System notification. For the sweet rush of XP.
Nothing came.
Slowly, shakily, he got to his feet. He cracked the red-hot door open just a sliver. The hallway beyond was a scorched, blackened ruin. Everything was melted, twisted, burned beyond recognition. The fire had been so fast and so hot, it had already consumed itself, leaving only destruction behind.
And standing in the center of the blackened devastation, his pristine black suit now tattered and smoking but his skin completely untouched, was the Adjuster. His calm was gone, replaced by a mask of cold, absolute rage.
"Unacceptable," the Adjuster stated, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He looked at his own frayed sleeve in disgust. Then he looked directly at the cracked-open door. "The asset's value does not justify this level of collateral damage to my person. This contract is now void."
He raised his hand again. The black orb of energy reformed, larger and more unstable this time. He wasn't aiming at Leo. He was aiming at the floor.
"Pursuant to clause 17, sub-section B, of my employment agreement," the Adjuster declared, "I am exercising the Total Asset Liquidation protocol."
He slammed the orb into the floor. A web of black energy spread outwards, and the entire structural foundation of the wing began to dissolve into dust. The floor beneath Leo's feet began to crumble. The building was coming down.