Flask sniffed the room in every corner, getting close-up to all that he could before confirming himself that there was no Malitae in the room. While there were a few times he just wanted to puke, he was able to hold it in with the fact that this room didn’t smell as bad as the others, and compared to them he thought of the surgery room as a newly-cleaned dorm on Nimbus. But besides that, Flask walked over to the door and kicked it shut, unable to lock it because of his lack of hands, so he just had to hope the Malitae was no squid.
Flask now had a full layout in his mind of where he was, since he had decided to sniff closely to nearly everything in the room, and from there he let all of the events until now sink into his mind, and what he can do from here. And when it was all said and done, Flask sighed, and began to talk to himself aloud to confirm in his mind that he was thinking exactly what he was thinking
“So, right now this whole situation from when I first got here to now, is boiling down to… well, more shit I’d rather not see… and no Malitae. And if there’s no Malitae…”
Flask then grows a smile, a smile of a bright idea coming to mind, the smile that would lead to a fantasy scientist to scream “Eureka!”
“Then nothing here is infected”
Flask finishes in a quietly satisfied manor, as he turns and walks over to where the whole arrange of limbs are, and jumps tup onto the table. He lightly kicks each and every one of arms on the table as if he were going down a walkway of touchable artifacts, all the while ignoring the legs, since that wasn’t what interested him. The proccess took a while and would test any average person of their patience, as Flask made sure to kick all fo the arms in their entire length, slowly at that. Once he was done, andd at the other end of the table from where he started, he stood still and went through his choices. Another minute or so passes before FLask turns around, and walks back through the table, kicking off two arms of near-same length, one left-handed and one right-handed, before hopping off of the table himself. His smile was still plastered on him like a painting, only it having grown this time.
“I’m gonna get out of here, one way or another”
He whispers to himself as he hastily and proudly walks over to the dissected body, leaning his head down to the tools next to the arrange of durgical instruments, and grabbing the sharpest blade there with his teeth, anything would have done. Then, walking back to the two arms on the floor, Flask lightly lifts up the right arm off of the ground with his foot, before throwing it in the air and having it land on the table of torn-off limbs once more. And suddenly, without a further second of hesitation, Flask turns his head before lunging the blade of the tool he got into his stub of an arm. Flask was silent at him stabbing himself, not feeling any pain at all as his black blood began to slowly flow out of his body. From there, it would be a slow and long process of flask cutting off the last bit of a stub of his arm, black blood going everywhere around Flask as his body was cut open, all but his bone, which he would leave sticking out.
The stub of his skin falls off, flopping down to the floor as a fleshy slice of soon-to-be rot. The whole process made Flask feel light-headed, he did lose a lot of blood after all, but he was able to keep himself awake as he lunges his exposed bone into the severed arm he kicked onto the table, shoving it against the wall and sending the other limbs off of the table. Flask finally opens his mouth and has he bloodied tool fall out of his mouth, as his smile from before reforms on his face, as he drags the arm he stabbed with his bone up against the wall, to where he was standing still, before freezing in place, and eletting his undead body claim its new limb.
“Master… John… everyone. I’ll be home soon”