The air in the abandoned industrial complex was thick enough to taste—a metallic tang of rust and old ozone. Elias checked his oxygen gauge: 12%. Not enough to reach the extraction point on foot, not with the things that prowled the vents.
As the scratching sound in the ceiling grew louder, Elias struck the igniter. There was no hiss, only a violent, blinding burst of violet light that seemed to eat the shadows. The temperature in the hallway spiked instantly. File: Deadly.Flare.v3.0.zip ...
He reached into his tactical belt and pulled out a prototype marked with a jagged, hand-painted "V3.0." It was a heavy, obsidian-black cylinder. The engineers back at the Hub called it the . Most flares were for light; this one was for survival. The air in the abandoned industrial complex was