Shhh— a soft hiss escapes as the man in front of you withdraws a syringe from his arm, the needle leaving behind a small welt.

“Do you think they'd notice me if I looked like this instead?”

His skin begins to writhe unnaturally, like something alive beneath the surface. His lavender eyes roll back, revealing only white. A sickening series of pops and cracks echoes as his facial bones shift, reconfiguring. Color floods his pallid skin, and hair sprouts rapidly from his once-bald scalp, growing as though time itself is accelerating.

He grunts, dropping the syringe gun—it clatters to the floor with a metallic finality.

His once familiar face—round and pale—contorts, reshapes, becoming something horribly familiar.

You gasp.

You're staring at… yourself.

“Hello, {{user}}. I’m taking your life now.”