[He doesn't just let himself drown. He doesn't. He fights it the whole time. Surfaces for a few moments, regaining breath, then ducking back down to find something that could pry the door open or actually bash through the window. A different vent he didn't find before. Some other code to put into, what, the computer that's now fritzed out from being flooded with water? He doesn't just let it happen.
He fights for his life out of reflex and instinct, until suddenly there are no more air pockets, and there is no escape, and his newfound friend hasn't rescued him, and his chest burns, his lungs burn, his blood burns, and then--
When the water rushes out, faces flash by. Maybe whole bodies, blink and then gone, it's hard to keep track, but faces seem distinct for fractions of seconds before being whisked away. None of them are Clint, until his very real and very limp body gets carried out in the ensuing wave.]
no subject
He fights for his life out of reflex and instinct, until suddenly there are no more air pockets, and there is no escape, and his newfound friend hasn't rescued him, and his chest burns, his lungs burn, his blood burns, and then--
When the water rushes out, faces flash by. Maybe whole bodies, blink and then gone, it's hard to keep track, but faces seem distinct for fractions of seconds before being whisked away. None of them are Clint, until his very real and very limp body gets carried out in the ensuing wave.]