The red mist poured from Devon's nebulizer machine, flooding Blissville Hospital with a faint, shimmering haze that snaked through the ventilation system, reaching into every ward, every room, every shadowed corner.
It glowed soft under the flickering fluorescent lights, a beacon of hope carrying the cure Devon had poured his soul into crafting. Patients strapped to beds or slumped in chairs coughed and gasped as the mist hit them, their lungs raw from the Aerothrax poison, now meeting something new, something alive.
Devon moved through the chaos, his boots thudding on the tiled floors, his voice cutting through the fading screams like a lighthouse in a storm. "Inhale the mist!" he shouted, loud and clear, his words echoing down the halls.
