Pasarian looked up in time to see his assistant, his face already blistered from the inhalation of the noxious gas, collapse and fall over the side of the railing, smashing his head on the floor below.

Pasarian could not believe it was happening. He ran back to the console, shouting 'Everybody out! Get those kids out of here!’

His voice reached up to the group of cadets and their guide, who turned around, startled. The gas was already beginning to rise in their direction.

Down below, Pasarian was looking at the gauges on his console. The pressure was dropping rapidly in synchronization with the escaping gas.

There was an emergency button on the console, which might as well have been called the panic button. Pasarian pressed it as hard as he could.

He looked through the glass windows that gave onto the adjoining computer room and saw two white-coated technicians engaged in casual conversation. For some reason, the panic button was not registering. He had no way of knowing, of course, that his own superior, Buher, had adjusted the button earlier that day.

He punched the button again, but the two technicians continued to talk. Obviously, they heard nothing.

Pasarian heard something, though. A new sound—the cries of the cadets as they choked and coughed and stumbled over one another in a desperate attempt to get out of the room. They were frantic and gasping for air. Their eyes were streaming with tears from the gas. Some of them already had minor blisters on their faces and hands.

Their guide ran toward a freight elevator and frantically pressed the button.

Nothing happened. That wasn't working either.

He pressed the button again and again, not knowing what else to do. His terror was less for his own life than for what he thought would happen to him if he survived and one of the Thorn boys did not.

The only person who wasn't panicking was Damien. The gas was having no effect upon him. He looked around at his friends as they began to collapse all around him, and for the first time, he felt the power of his being.

He also understood that he still had free will. He could leave now and be the sole survivor, or he could help everyone else out and be the hero.

It was strangely beginning to make some sense to him now.

He decided to help. He suddenly loved the idea of being a hero. He quickly scanned the ceiling and saw a metal ladder bolted to one of the walls leading up to a hatchway which obviously let out onto the roof.

'Over here!' he cried, and ran to the ladder. Scaling it with lithe, hand-over-hand grace, he reached the portal at last, shoved it open, and let in a welcome rush of sunlight and fresh air.