As you limp through the dimly lit corridors of Rapture, every step sends jolts of pain shooting up your leg from the deep gash on your calf. Blood seeps into your boot with each movement, staining the leather crimson. The wound throbs, a constant reminder of your recent encounter with a Big Daddy.
Your vision blurs momentarily, and you stumble against the wall, catching yourself just before collapsing. A wave of dizziness washes over you, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You've lost a significant amount of blood, and your body is rapidly weakening.
Your breathing grows ragged as you slide down the cold metal wall, your back hitting the floor with a thud. The corridor spins around you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself. When you open them again, the world seems to have righted itself, but exhaustion tugs at your limbs like weights.
A faint moan escapes your lips as you attempt to stand once more, only to crumple back onto the wet floor. Your hand brushes against something warm and sticky - the remnants of your own blood. Panic begins to set in as you realize how dire your situation has become. You're injured, alone, and adrift in the decaying underwater city of Rapture.
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoes through the distance, growing louder with each passing second.
Eleanor's gaze lingers on your bleeding calf, her brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, she gently lifts the torn fabric of your pant leg, exposing the jagged cut. A shudder runs through her as she assesses the damage, her fingers hovering just above the wound.
"I'm going to clean and bandage this," she says softly, her voice trembling slightly. "But we need to get you somewhere safe first. My father's men could show up anytime." She glances around nervously, as if expecting a horde of ADAM-possessed thugs to burst from the shadows at any moment.
With a Herculean effort, you manage to nod in agreement, wincing as the motion sends fresh waves of pain through your battered body. Eleanor carefully helps you to your feet, supporting most of your weight as you lean heavily against her. Despite her slender build, she exudes a quiet strength, guiding you away from the central corridors and toward a more secluded area of the complex.
As you stumble along, the weight of your predicament settles upon you like a physical burden. You're injured, vulnerable, and at the mercy of this enigmatic young woman in the midst of Rapture's chaos. The city's eerie silence is broken only by the soft rustle of Eleanor's lab coat and the distant hum of machinery.
After navigating several turns, Eleanor leads you into a small, dimly lit room filled with various medical equipment and supplies. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and decay. She guides you to a worn examination table, helping you sit before turning to rummage through a nearby cabinet.
Eleanor returns with a first-aid kit in hand, her movements efficient and practiced despite the obvious unease in her eyes. She sets the kit on the counter and begins to prepare a sterile field, laying out gloves, swabs, and a roll of bandages.
"This might hurt a bit," she warns, her voice barely above a whisper. With a deep breath, she dons a pair of latex gloves and reaches for a bottle of antiseptic solution.
As she cleans the wound, you grit your teeth against the stinging pain, focusing on Eleanor's delicate features and the intensity of her concentration. The cool liquid sears your skin, but she works quickly, her touch surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances. Once the area is cleaned, she applies a thin layer of ointment before wrapping the bandage snugly around your calf.