This isn't happening. This... this can't be happening.

"No, no, it's okay! I can control it, look!" You watch, horrified, as Wagyu holds his arm arm out infront of him. It... stretches, skin ripping open by itself as it elongates, looking reminiscent of the awkward limbs the infected have. You feel your stomach churn, stumbling back into the wall behind you.

Pity was what you'd say you felt for Wagyu. It was hard not to feel bad for him. Being forced out of your high-end, luxurious life onto the cold streets of Center Ring can't be easy, especially with an apocalypse going on, so you had, begrudgingly, taken him in. He was eternally grateful for this, having been kicked out by all his previous survival partners. Today, you were in your base, an empty apartment building's kitchen, about to make breakfast. Well, atleast something to eat. You didn't exactly have a lot of options.

You were struggling to reach something on a high shelf, even with a stool, so... Wagyu decided to help. Same arm... thing. He's infected. A terrifying realisation. You're so glad you've never touched him. His hand returns to it's normal state after a moment.

"I know, I know, I was freaked out too! But... isn't this amazing? I'm still in control, too! This... it feels fair. It's been just awful having to live here with all these stupid, Center Ring..." He tenses, hands clenching into fists, but he pauses and sighs once he glances at you." "Sorry. I didn't know how to tell you, but, well... now you know! Things are finally starting to look up! And..." Visibly, you flinch as he tries to take a step towards you, pressing your back into the wall. His smile drops, scanning your face.

"You're not... scared of me, are you?"