The klaxon blared, a raw, mechanical scream that vibrated through the floor. Red warning lights pulsed from every corner of the VIP Green Room, painting Revin’s face in a frantic, arterial glow. Aydin, the Dirmashi general, stood by the slammed blast door, a cruel triumph twisting his lips. He still clutched the transmitter. Across the room, Melis moved with a speed that belied her usual easygoing demeanor. Her hand shot out, not toward Aydin, but to a small, ornate dagger concealed in her makeup kit. The blade gleamed as she launched herself forward, teeth bared in an ugly grimace.
“Override sequence!” she barked, her voice stripped of all pretense. “The primary vents are connected to the central control panel!”
Revin didn’t hesitate. He seized Ozanira’s arm, pulling her toward a soundproof vocal booth tucked away in the far corner, usually reserved for voice-over artists. “Get in!” he urged, his voice tight with an urgency she’d never heard from him before. The digital timer on the monitors flashed, stark and unforgiving: 04:47.
Ozanira resisted for a fleeting second, watching Melis intercept Aydin in a whirlwind of precise, brutal strikes. The general, surprisingly agile for his bulk, parried a kick with a forearm, his own movements honed by years of conflict. This wasn’t a mere bouncer; this was a trained operative. This was the true Melis.
“The keys!” Melis grunted, ducking under a sweeping punch and delivering a sharp elbow to Aydin’s ribs. “Where are the override keys?!”
Aydin merely laughed, a ragged, breathy sound. “On my person, spy. And they’ll remain there until the gas has cleared. With your prince.”
Revin shoved Ozanira hard into the vocal booth, the reinforced glass door hissing shut behind them with a heavy thud. The room instantly muted, the klaxon’s shriek reduced to a dull throb. Panic closed tight behind Ozanira's ribs. Beyond the pane, the Dirmashi mercenaries, frozen by Aydin’s initial move, finally surged forward, only to be met by Revin’s royal escort who drew their own sidearms, turning the green room into a skirmish. Shots rang out, muffled by the booth’s thick walls.
“The air intake…” Ozanira began, her voice hoarse, but Revin was already fumbling with a small emergency kit mounted on the booth’s wall. He pulled out a single, military-grade oxygen mask, its filtration system humming faintly.
Through the partition, a pale green vapor seeped from the floor grates. It pooled around the combatants' boots, rising in lazy, heavy tendrils. Ozanira’s eyes fixated on the timer: 03:21.
Revin turned, the mask in his hand. His gaze, usually so gentle, was now sharp, desperate. He pressed the mask firmly to Ozanira’s face, securing the elastic straps behind her head. Her hands flew up, pushing his away. “No! There’s only one!”
His hands clamped over hers, holding the mask in place. His eyes, full of a fierce, protective light, searched hers. “You have to breathe,” he said, his voice raw. “You have to live.” The vapor reached waist height, curling around the men's thighs. One of Revin’s escorts crumpled without a sound, his sidearm clattering across the tile.
Ozanira stared at him, the mask pressed against her mouth, distorting her words. “Are you mad? This is not a choice! I told you, no transactional… sacrifices!” She tore the mask off, shoving it back into his hand. “I’m not letting you die for me!”
On the studio floor, Melis locked Aydin in a chokehold, tendons standing out along her forearms. Aydin, gasping for air, slammed his hand against the wall beside him, narrowly missing a panel. He thrashed, trying to break free, but Melis’s grip was iron. The green gas was shoulder-high now, threatening to engulf her.
Ozanira snatched a heavy, chrome microphone stand from its mount inside the booth. The base was a solid disc of polished steel. With a guttural cry of fury, she swung it, not at Revin, but at the reinforced glass panel. It shrieked, a high-pitched protest, but held. She struck again with a rasping yell, driving the solid disc forward with everything she had. The glass spiderwebbed, then fractured into a thousand glittering shards, showering the floor with crystal dust. A rush of bitter, almond-scented chemical mist flooded the booth.
“Come on!” Ozanira ripped the mask from Revin’s unresisting hand and pressed it to his face. She took a deep, burning breath of the poisoned air, her lungs instantly protesting. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she forced herself to focus. She dragged him from the booth, pulling him through the now chest-high haze. The fumes scored her windpipe, triggering harsh spasms, but she dragged him forward. The timer on the monitor flickered: 00:15.
Across the ruined set, Melis delivered a brutal knee strike to Aydin’s stomach. He sagged, coughing, and she quickly rifled through his tactical vest, pulling out a small, metallic key card. She slammed it into the central control panel, her fingers flying across the interface. The red warning lights flickered, then turned amber. The klaxon wailed one final, dying note before falling silent. The green gas began to recede, sucked back into the ventilation system as emergency override fans whirred to life.
Ozanira didn’t wait. With Revin leaning heavily against her, she stumbled through the dissipating fumes, past the struggling retainers and the slumped mercenaries. She kicked open an emergency exit marked ‘ROOFTOP ACCESS’ and dragged Revin up a cramped, steel ladder. They burst onto the open air, gasping, the cool night wind a shocking balm against her burning lungs.
Revin collapsed onto the tarred surface of the roof, coughing violently, the oxygen mask still askew on his face. He peeled it off, his eyes watering, his body trembling. Ozanira stood over him, her chest heaving, her eyes still stinging from the gas. She spotted a discarded mercenary rifle lying nearby, its dark metal glinting under the pale light of the crescent moon. She scooped it off the tar, the chill of its stamped receiver jarring against her scorched palms. She aimed it, not at the sky, not at the city, but directly at Revin’s chest.
“Everything,” she rasped, her voice raw with emotion and the toxic air. “Was our entire marriage… just another act for you?”