№18895136[Quote]
INT. HOLDING WARD - NIGHT
The room is cast in sickly, flickering shadows. Hundreds of men, dressed in identical blue and white striped rags, are packed shoulder-to-shoulder. The air turns thick as a low hiss erupts from the vents. A sickly, neon-green vapor begins to coil around their ankles.
Panic ignites. The men scream, a discordant roar that fills the cramped space. They clutch at their throats, coughing violently as the gas sears their lungs. One by one, they buckle, collapsing into a tangled heap of limbs until the room goes silent, save for the rhythmic hiss of the canisters.