Meanwhile, Jack pushes himself to his feet and moves over to the spider splicer. He prefers not to be moving around injured and in pain, but it's not like it's an alien concept, and he can push through it. More worrying are the parts of his body that don't hurt, the ones that have been seared free of nerve endings and might be bleeding him to death for all he knows.

Jesus. Just keep going, this one's a crawler, even if he doesn't have a traditional health kit Jack can get something equivalent.

This guy didn't really have time for his burns to start healing, so he's just... red. Stippled. Flesh like volcanic rock. Jack delves into his pockets with roughly negative amounts of respect for the dead.

"No kits," he groans. Half to inform Sinclair; half because, sigh, here's one more bony barrier between him and healing items.

He sighs and powers up the stabbing icicles of Winter Blast. Starts cutting into the guy's stomach, much as he would a Little Sister's. Man. The next knife he sees, he's taking it with him, because wow these things are sharp but they're really not built to slice.