He didn't throw up a construct in time -- not that it would've really mattered. He did at least manage to thicken his protective aura, but that also hardly meant anything. He could feel the heat, he could feel it already burning through. Part of his helmet that got hit with some of the spray was actually melting and melting some of the flesh of his face along with it.
But pain was just pain. He'd burned plenty of times before, like the first time he took in the whole Nova Force, way back during all that craziness with Garthan Saal, and when he'd done it again, during the opening volleys of the war. Like the times he'd been pinned down with that one type of bug plasma cannon that was almost just enough to tear him apart. Like the time he'd called down an orbital strike on his own location and Drax'd had to scrape what was left of him off the battlefield after.
He'd burned so badly then that he'd need a new leg grown by the medicos. He still remembered what the blackened husk of his upper thigh had looked like. He remembered what his own burning flesh smelled like.
This was just agonizing and just as horrible and if he wasn't all sealed up in ring aura, it probably would've had the same smell and now it mattered even less. He fought harder now than any time he'd ever fought during the war, because that had been saving the universe. This was keeping an innocent kid from being dragged off by rage zombies where he might be killed by one of his fellow rage zombies or where Rich might never find him again.
His kid. His not-sidekick. His little buddy.
His fellow Nova.
"Like hell you're going off with them!"
Yeah, burning off his face a little was nowhere near enough to stop him. He directed one of those fine-tuned, focused gravimetric blasts he'd taught Sam how to use -- and how to dodge -- at Sam's head to try to stun him, knowing he was too far gone to dodge it.
Then he tried to get behind him to grab him, hoping to pin him in such a way that he could direct the ragespew at places that were not his face..
"You're officially grounded," he said, struggling to drag him away. "I'm allowed to do that -- I big bro dibsed, remember? Sorry, Sam, your new friends are just a bad influence on you."
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But pain was just pain. He'd burned plenty of times before, like the first time he took in the whole Nova Force, way back during all that craziness with Garthan Saal, and when he'd done it again, during the opening volleys of the war. Like the times he'd been pinned down with that one type of bug plasma cannon that was almost just enough to tear him apart. Like the time he'd called down an orbital strike on his own location and Drax'd had to scrape what was left of him off the battlefield after.
He'd burned so badly then that he'd need a new leg grown by the medicos. He still remembered what the blackened husk of his upper thigh had looked like. He remembered what his own burning flesh smelled like.
This was just agonizing and just as horrible and if he wasn't all sealed up in ring aura, it probably would've had the same smell and now it mattered even less. He fought harder now than any time he'd ever fought during the war, because that had been saving the universe. This was keeping an innocent kid from being dragged off by rage zombies where he might be killed by one of his fellow rage zombies or where Rich might never find him again.
His kid. His not-sidekick. His little buddy.
His fellow Nova.
"Like hell you're going off with them!"
Yeah, burning off his face a little was nowhere near enough to stop him. He directed one of those fine-tuned, focused gravimetric blasts he'd taught Sam how to use -- and how to dodge -- at Sam's head to try to stun him, knowing he was too far gone to dodge it.
Then he tried to get behind him to grab him, hoping to pin him in such a way that he could direct the ragespew at places that were not his face..
"You're officially grounded," he said, struggling to drag him away. "I'm allowed to do that -- I big bro dibsed, remember? Sorry, Sam, your new friends are just a bad influence on you."