Clarence stumbles through the mechanical doors, clutching the right side of his face in an agony he didn't know he was capable of withstanding.
The blink reflex usually causes the eye to close in response to heat. Thus, thermal burns tend to affect the eyelid rather than the conjunctiva or–
Medical knowledge floods his mind as he desperately tries to locate something that would help him escape. The room is dimly lit, large but cramped by an unfathomable amount of machines, some whirring away and some still as death. Not unusual for a Shadaloo base, especially not given the encounter he just made.
Doctors usually give cycloplegic eye drops (such as cyclopentolate or homatropine) to prevent painful spasms of the muscles that constrict the pupil–
The situation is bad. Really, really bad.
This raid was supposed to be as routine as these things went. Just go in, wreck havoc, and leave a pile of fuming remains behind. And it had started rather well, on top of that.
Clarence couldn’t have guessed the base hid that thing he came across in the medical sector.
He hadn't seen its face, covered by bandages and a thick steel helmet, but the scream it had let out as it barrelled towards him had been enough to chill the ex-soldier to the bone, freezing him in place for one fatal instant.
The kick had been launched a second too late, and by then the searing, purple glowing heat was already on his face. The force of the Crest’s impact on the thing's chest had sent it reeling back behind, hitting its head against the floor, but it had already been too late. Clarence didn’t have the time to check if it was still alive that he was feeling the immediate, full brunt of the impossible pain, unlike any he’d ever felt before.
Adrenalin somehow didn’t kick in, his blood frozen in his veins and yet still pumping though his now empty socket.
Severe ocular thermal burns are an ophthalmic emergency requiring immediate attention. Thermal eye injuries generally have a devastating impact on a patient’s vision and quality of life.
Not helpful, he thinks to himself.
Helpful, it may not be, but at least thinking about facts was giving him something else to focus on than the sensation of the thing’s thumb pressing down and his ocular globe melting out of his face.
He squeezes his good eye shut before opening it again. The glow of the heat was still present behind his intact eyelid. He sighs and starts walking, making his way down the complex in search of something that could help. It was the medical bay, wasn't it? How hard could it be to find something to treat his eye?
Harder than it should be, apparently.
He hears a crash, and again that inhuman roar, and lunges towards the door’s control panel to slam it shut. Nothing got through, but he knows the thing is not dead.
A new wave of pain makes itself known, and Clarence almost falls to his knees through the force of it. He’s not used to that, the pain so intense he can hardly move. The few serious injuries he’d suffered during his career had always been tampered either by adrenalin or, later, painkillers, but right now it’s not working. Probably because of whatever power the thing was using. He’d seen that purple glow before, knew it never was anything good.
Another bang at the door. He doesn’t have much time.
He digs his nails into his cheek, desperate for anything to focus on that wasn't just the blistering and swollen, bleeding flesh around his left eye. A rather gruesome sight, he’s sure, especially if coupled with an empty, scorched hole right in the middle. He briefly wonders about how much of his optical nerve is left. Maybe most of it, or maybe it has been completely burned, or even worse, fused and indistinguishable from the rest.
He winces, reflexively shutting his eyes, which only serves to give him a sharp, excruciating stab of pain. He gasps and jerks back, panting shallowly.
Cool water would probably help right now, but even if he somehow found a faucet in that place that honestly looks like a mad scientist’s wet dream, he probably wouldn’t be able to stand the sensation of water running on his face right after the feeling of the vitreous fluid boiling and dripping before evaporating in steam and-
He shudders.
Focus. Dress the wound, elaborate a plan of action. Another glance at the door, now dented by something that should be a shotgun but was probably a punch, tells him he better hurry. His moves are uncoordinated and mechanical, but he walks through the room. There’s some gauze, hopefully enough to cover the wound. Should he put some inside? He’s bleeding a lot, he can feel the hot liquid coating his cheek and dripping on the floor.
Yet another bang.
No time for that.
He glances aside, and there is something that catches his eye.
The syringe glows dimly of that same cursed purple.
His hand goes to it. It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. That’s bad. That’s terrible, even. He knows this power is dangerous, has seen the thing outside. Nothing human possesses that power. Nothing good does.
But desperate times call for desperate solutions, don’t they?
The door still stands solid. But for how long?
Another bang.
He spots an exit, on the other side of the room. The door looks even more solid than this one, and he should have time to escape through it. There’s only one human sized test tube in the room, shattered and dripping. That means no more creatures besides this one.
If he leaves and closes the door, the thing will stay trapped here. Die, maybe of starvation or thirst.
He could even come back later, find a way to destroy the base from the outside.
His hand closes around the syringe.
The glow is stark in the darkness of the room, against the black of his gloves.
There isn’t much worse that can happen to him. He grabs the syringe.
He didn’t think he’d feel the burn of the needle sliding in, but he does, and somehow it’s worse than the feeling of the thumb pressing in and melting his flesh. He pushes the liquid in, and it feels worse than anything he’d ever felt.
His last thought before darkness envelops his consciousness is that he is glad Richard isn’t there to see him.