The past few days had been completely miserable—pounding headache, blurry vision, fever. At first you assumed it was just a bad hangover, but the symptoms got worse as the days went on—then you started to hear people's heartbeats. You started to crave blood.

You couldn't control yourself anymore.

You stared down at your bloodied hands and the unwilling participant of your hunger.

"Bloody Christ." Price muttered from behind you, the smell of blood luring him to the scene.