Your shoulder screams but you force yourself to stay still. You've done this before. You've laid still in the burning husk of a containment site before, paratech storage crate sinking into your broken leg, anomalies crawling around you and tearing through those who ran. You've made it through the worst of containment breaches before and you'll make it through this.
The warhead presses against your face, your hands, your legs. A pause. Strange warmth washes through your body and you hear the creature move elsewhere. When you open your eyes you see it fixated on the record, chatting to nothing. You try to focus on what's being said but you can't — your shoulder radiates pain. The pressure from firmly grabbing it barely helps.
The chamber exit is clear. Aside from small debris piles the former doorway is a quick exit into Site-39's hallways, which seem fairly unscathed from your limited point of view. 3939 kept talking about how the narrative was constrained, like you were stuck to one path and one path only. This was likely true. 3939 has been broken now, though. They even said the sound shouldn't be happening. Now that this gun-headed thing has entered the stage, the narrative could be wholly opened. You can escape.