I couldn't help but write something for this. I know this is nothing like what happened in the comics, but I think the gist of your prompt is there. Hope it's okay. And I hope someone else will write a proper, longer fill for you.
A dozen tiny rooms reminiscent of prison cells. Matt can hear only one heartbeat. The entire building is permeated with a smell he remembers from his childhood, a chemical tang filling the air, so thick with bad memories that it is hard to breathe.
He rounds a corner and sprints in the direction of the surviver. Beyond the walls of some of the cells, lay corpses awaiting disposal. His own heart beats so hard in his chest that he can barely hear his target, let alone tell who it might be. He prays silently as he runs; prays not only for it to be Foggy, but for him to be okay. For him not yet to have been the subject of the madman’s experiment.
He is asking too much, and he knows it.
The heart is pounding unnaturally quickly, faster even than his own. Matt reaches the door, and as he stands outside he knows who is inside, and relief washes over him like a tsunami. He staggers, momentarily knocked off his feet under the wave.
The door is unlocked; all of them are. When he shorted out the electricity, the locking system had failed immediately. Matt pushes open the door and steps inside.
Foggy is crouched on the floor in the corner of the room. As the door opens, his heart rate and breathing grow faster still. His feet squeak on the floor as he tightens his arms’ grip around his knees and screws himself into a tighter ball. “Whoever you are, just leave me alone now, okay?”
His voice is hoarse as though from screaming, and Matt can taste the salty tang of tears in the air. He steps forward. “Foggy,” he says.
Foggy’s entire body appears to jerk in shock as he recognizes the voice, he gasps, his feet squeak on the floor again and Matt hears his clothing moving against the floor and wall of the cell.
“It’s going to be okay,” Matt told him.
Foggy’s heart rate had slowed enough that Matt was no longer worried he might go into cardiac arrest, but at that statement it quickens again, accompanied by a series of gasps as though he is trying not to cry. The salty taste in the air grows stronger. “Everything hurts,” Foggy whispers. “Matt, they… I… I can’t see anything.”
Matt’s teeth clamp down hard on his bottom lip and he rushes forward now to help Foggy to his feet. It is dark in the room. It has to be, there are no windows, he had cut the electricity. There may be a chance… he pulls Foggy closer to him. The smell of the chemicals is strong on his skin. Slowly, carefully, Matt traces a hand across his face. He can feel the differences in the texture of the skin where the chemicals have burned him, where they have destroyed his vision in exactly the same way they had Matt’s own.
Foggy pushes his hand away. “Hurts,” he says. Outside, the first of the police cars arrives, sirens wailing. Foggy draws back, hands covering his ears, hissing in pain. “Make it stop,” he says, so plaintive that Matt would give almost anything to do as he asks. He fights the urge to hug him, the pressure on his skin might be painful.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises. He prays he hasn’t just lied to his best friend. He doesn’t know yet whether Foggy fully understands the enormity of what has been done to him. He will soon, when the dust settles and he is faced with picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together again. And Matt will be there for that, and for everything afterwards. He pulls him closer, risking a careful embrace because he knows the contact will be comforting. “It’ll be okay,” he says again. “Come on, lets get you out of here.”
He guides Foggy with an arm around his shoulder. One of them is trembling as they walk slowly out of the building, he can feel it through the contact between Foggy’s body and his own. He has no idea which one of them it is.
Minifill: Everything Hurts
A dozen tiny rooms reminiscent of prison cells. Matt can hear only one heartbeat. The entire building is permeated with a smell he remembers from his childhood, a chemical tang filling the air, so thick with bad memories that it is hard to breathe.
He rounds a corner and sprints in the direction of the surviver. Beyond the walls of some of the cells, lay corpses awaiting disposal. His own heart beats so hard in his chest that he can barely hear his target, let alone tell who it might be. He prays silently as he runs; prays not only for it to be Foggy, but for him to be okay. For him not yet to have been the subject of the madman’s experiment.
He is asking too much, and he knows it.
The heart is pounding unnaturally quickly, faster even than his own. Matt reaches the door, and as he stands outside he knows who is inside, and relief washes over him like a tsunami. He staggers, momentarily knocked off his feet under the wave.
The door is unlocked; all of them are. When he shorted out the electricity, the locking system had failed immediately. Matt pushes open the door and steps inside.
Foggy is crouched on the floor in the corner of the room. As the door opens, his heart rate and breathing grow faster still. His feet squeak on the floor as he tightens his arms’ grip around his knees and screws himself into a tighter ball. “Whoever you are, just leave me alone now, okay?”
His voice is hoarse as though from screaming, and Matt can taste the salty tang of tears in the air. He steps forward. “Foggy,” he says.
Foggy’s entire body appears to jerk in shock as he recognizes the voice, he gasps, his feet squeak on the floor again and Matt hears his clothing moving against the floor and wall of the cell.
“It’s going to be okay,” Matt told him.
Foggy’s heart rate had slowed enough that Matt was no longer worried he might go into cardiac arrest, but at that statement it quickens again, accompanied by a series of gasps as though he is trying not to cry. The salty taste in the air grows stronger. “Everything hurts,” Foggy whispers. “Matt, they… I… I can’t see anything.”
Matt’s teeth clamp down hard on his bottom lip and he rushes forward now to help Foggy to his feet. It is dark in the room. It has to be, there are no windows, he had cut the electricity. There may be a chance… he pulls Foggy closer to him. The smell of the chemicals is strong on his skin. Slowly, carefully, Matt traces a hand across his face. He can feel the differences in the texture of the skin where the chemicals have burned him, where they have destroyed his vision in exactly the same way they had Matt’s own.
Foggy pushes his hand away. “Hurts,” he says. Outside, the first of the police cars arrives, sirens wailing. Foggy draws back, hands covering his ears, hissing in pain. “Make it stop,” he says, so plaintive that Matt would give almost anything to do as he asks. He fights the urge to hug him, the pressure on his skin might be painful.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises. He prays he hasn’t just lied to his best friend. He doesn’t know yet whether Foggy fully understands the enormity of what has been done to him. He will soon, when the dust settles and he is faced with picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together again. And Matt will be there for that, and for everything afterwards. He pulls him closer, risking a careful embrace because he knows the contact will be comforting. “It’ll be okay,” he says again. “Come on, lets get you out of here.”
He guides Foggy with an arm around his shoulder. One of them is trembling as they walk slowly out of the building, he can feel it through the contact between Foggy’s body and his own. He has no idea which one of them it is.