No, you will not succumb. You close your eyes and concentrate. Within a few moments, you manage to tune out the shriek inside your mind. When you open your eyes again, it is with a slight smile on your lips.
Everyone present has heard the Surgeons' victorious shriek, and it has thrown the rooftop into chaos. Your research team are trampling over one another, trying to reach the rooftop's exit. Your field agents are going beserk, yelling, striking out at anything that comes too close. You see one of your research team leap off the side of the building; you can't begin to guess why. Somebody, somewhere, is firing an automatic weapon.
And then one of your field agents, a big, burly man—DeSotho—bangs into you, knocking you down and falling on top of you. You'd previously attached the jinn flask to a leather strap around your shoulder, but somehow DeSotho, in all his flailing as he falls, manages to whack the flask, knocking it out of its harness and up into the air. Your eyes follow it as it reaches the tip of its arc and begins to fall toward the rooftop once more—and you are all too aware of how fragile the flask is, how powerful the destructive forces within it are.