The Distant Wound
The seal on the containment unit shattered not with a bang, but with a wet, organic pop, like a bubble of thick saliva bursting against glass. Sergeant Major Elias Thorne did not flinch. He stood in the center of the sterile, white corridor of Outpost 4, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the spreading iridescent slime that oozed from the cracked vial at his feet. The air conditioning hummed,...
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