Wraith fight

That’s when a shape slipped through the front door of the cabin and placed a silenced MK-23 on the back of Gow’s head.

“Took you long enough,” said The Wraith.

"You didn't seriously think that would work?” said The Wraith. Behind his white balaclava I sensed a cocksure smirk. “Barging in the front door with a hammer?” he said. “Honestly? That was your play?”

Gow and I said nothing. We eyed each other through the darkness, trying to silently communicate some semblance of a plan. Gow’s hands were in the air. I was still down on one knee, my sledgehammer clutched to my chest. Any sudden movement from either of us and I had no doubt The Wraith would put a bullet straight through Gow’s face.

“I didn’t figure you two for complete amateurs,” said The Wraith. “Not when I saw the size of this behemoth barreling toward the door. But breaching a fortified location without a gun? Honestly that goes beyond mere idiocy, into the realm of insanity.”

Gow and I said nothing.

“And what on earth was that ridiculous pirouette manoeuvre?” said The Wraith. The smirk in his voice widened even further. “Spinning around on one knee with a flashlight? Did you genuinely expect that to work?”

The Wraith let out a condescending snort, which turned into a sniff. He smelled the air. Once. Twice. Then he began to choke. He dropped the gun and his hands went to his throat but never quite made it. Before they got there his legs gave out and he went down to the floor, convulsing.

Gow gave me a thumbs up. Unbeknownst to the asshole dying on the floor, as I’d rolled into the room I’d broken open a vial of oxalonitrile, also known as Cyanogen. A colorless NFPA Level 4 gas with an LC50 toxicity of 0.06 parts per million. It interrupts the electron transport chain inside your mitochondria, preventing your cells from producing energy. That’s a complicated way of saying it’s really nasty shit. The tiniest whiff will knock you unconscious instantly.

My ridiculous pirouette had stirred the stale air in the enclosed space, increasing the heavy Cyanogen molecules’ rate of diffusion into The Wraith’s nostrils. Gow and I had been holding our breath for the last few minutes, waiting for it to hit. Now we had to get The Wraith’s convulsing body out into the open before he inhaled a lethal dose, without inhaling any ourselves.
-Sledge vs. The Labyrinth, pg. 59-61