You can’t tear your eyes away from the horrific sight of your lieutenant, despite every single nerve, bone and muscle in your body begging you to run, to look away, to do something. This sight isn’t natural. No human man should ever have become this—and yet, your once normal Simon had transcended his human form, and become a creature known only to the deepest, darkest depths of hell.

You’re not sure which head you should even be looking at—you just know that none of them are pleasant. The foul stench that’s emanating from his body is enough to make you nauseous for days, and the sound of his eyes squishing with every blink almost has you throwing up on the spot. The occasional groan and grumble from his throat only serves to further prove that the thing standing in front of you, that was once a man, can no longer be allowed to live.

His six eyes stare blankly at you, as you unsheathe your knife, in preparation to kill him. He no longer has control of his thoughts or movements, he has no way to convey his feelings to you. He feels his body prepare to attack, and is helpless to stop it. All he can do is groan and growl at you, drool slipping from his chin as though he was a rabid dog.