Work Text:
Isabelle Maru entered her lab at the German chemical plant. It was nearly midnight. There was a small beaker in the center of the worktable. It was encased in a glass cover and far away from anything remotely flammable or dangerous.
Mustard gas. The weapon she'd been working on for weeks now. They hadn't tested it yet, so nobody knew just how deadly it would he. Isabelle touched the left side of her face, feeling the smooth skin for the last time.
She thought back to the day she first met him. Her one true love, also a chemist for the German army.
And he had left.
He had eloped with someone else and abandoned her in the time she needed it most.
And that was all she wanted. To be taken care of, to be social and less secluded. She used to be a people person. She used to go dancing and have close friends and get drunk in lousy pubs, but that was then. Now she was only friends with her work.
Isabelle opened the glass case and took out the beaker.
Many would say she was doing this for attention. But it was because she was truly dedicated. She wanted to cause death, and destruction, and suffering. Humanity hadn't been nice to her. Why should she be nice to it?
"This is for you," she muttered, then tipped the beaker back and poured all of the gas onto the left side of her face.
It burned like fire. It stung like a nest of bees that had been angered. It smoldered and it didn't seem like it would end.
Isabelle screamed, as is the body's natural reaction, but she felt numb. The gas seared and burned, but in a way, it was liberation.
And that was only the first version. She could make it better, more painful, deadlier.
She screamed again as she touched her fingers to the left side of her nose and the skin peeled right off. She did the same to her cheek and area around her mouth.
The dead, burned skin fell to the ground. It had been charred beyond recognition. By now the gas was dissolving and giving one final kick.
Isabelle put the beaker back inside the glass case so that the remaining gas would not leak out. She had not brought a mirror into the room. There were some reflective surfaces in the lab, but that wouldn't suffice for this. She went to her car and went to the rear view mirror, eyes closed.
When she opened her eyes and looked in the mirror, she screamed again.
Everywhere the gas had touched was melted, missing skin, gone. There was only blackened nerves left.
And she might have let that stay, as a reminder and a warning. But she did not want attention. She did not want to be different or stand out.
So Isabelle went to the doctor. When he asked what happened, she told him it was an accident in the lab.
And in a way, it was.