You have no idea what it feels like to be trapped. No clue at all. The constant struggle to keep your stolen mind yours is without end - but I am lucky, in a way. The
little infectious bastard that got hold of me was damaged, and although it succeeded in altering my healthy appearance and taking over my motor-functions, my thoughts are kept to myself. It's a very nauseating and claustrophobic feeling - the sensation is so overwhelming sometimes I feel like screaming, but I can't. In fact, I can barely do
anything but blink. Yeah, I can see, I have control over my eyes - even though they are like raisins stuck in tar, I've seen myself, oh yes. I'm hideous.
I think it mostly started when my squad, who I'm not sure are still alive, was sent down to investigate strange noises. Really strange noises; ones that resembled the heavy guttural growl of a mutt and the cautious creeping, slithering, of a snake. Or bugs. But the sound was terrifying, and the dumbfuck who sent us down - I think his name was Jason, or Jack, or something - did it without a care, like we were just being sent for cleanup duty. Deep in the unaltered recesses of my mind, I'd really like to see that fucker burn for what he did.
Now, I was with Davies and Thomas, the others had been split up from us on orders. We were practically pissing ourselves with fright already, but when the body of a deformed human - and I'm talking seriously disfigured! There was shredded flesh, rumpled hair (with too many bald spots), and dangling appendages - fell from a ledge
above us, we really freaked out. There we were, three soldiers under the direct power of the UNSC (or was it ONI?), literally hiding in the corner. Davies was rocking back and forth, weeping, Thomas held his pistol up to the ceiling, looking calm but with a grey face. I don't know what I looked like, I never got a chance to look at my own expression.
Anyways, thats pretty much when the little parasites poured from a shaft, skittering towards us in the corner. We were trapped, and we damn well knew it.
Davies instantly raised his gun to his mouth, which at the time was a UNSC - or ONI - pistol, and pulled the trigger. I honestly don't know what got into him, but I now
realize the man was insane. I'm having doubts about myself, too...
But once Davies' brain was sent across the room in pieces and fleshy clots of skull, the things that took over you attacked us. Geez, how they could jump. Before we
knew it, the things clutched onto us, making us experience pain so intense that it made getting your hand caught in a meat-grinder a papercut. I dropped to the ground unconscious, and when I awoke, I could no longer move (on my own, anyway) and I could no longer talk. Feelings of anger, puzzlement, and severe hopelessness that would've caused me to kill myself if I had control rushed through me, and I'll be damned if they aren't flowing through my aching mind right now. The sensation of suffocation
accompanied these other feelings, making it seem I was so much more than trapped.
Everything that led up to now is a blur, but I can still make out what happened. Occasionally, I see very pragmatic images of the dead body falling, Davies attempting a cowards suicide, the infection forms hurtling towards us, me blacking out from pain, then awaking. Where I am now, I have no clue; just like you don't have a clue what it's like to be stuck in a monsters body.
I can feel the stuff it pumped into my veins, slowly coursing through my body and mind. Every now and then pictures of the past flash into view, and I know that the thing is trying to steal them from me. The less important memories I let it take - ones of me falling in the shower and breaking my leg, images of a fallen child in a school courtyard, lying in his own pool of blood with people laughing at him, the bully standing over him and kicking him in the gut, except I'm the child, not the bully. Or maybe I am, I have forgotten. Extremely important memories, however, I fight for - the first woman I kissed, my best friend and I going rock-climbing, me losing my virginity - the feeling of vertigo and disgust passes after a short time after the parasite burrowed inside of me gives up on stealing the memories.
Sometimes I just feel like screaming, like I've said, and sometimes I feel like killing - it's that damn thing inside me, I know it. But sometimes its just the feeling of being trapped in someone else's body where you can't move or speak or scream, it's enough to drive someone to madness. Insanity.
I sometimes wonder about myself, how do I survive this ordeal? There's surely no end to this, I'm a host, the thing is my contestant. I would laugh, but I can't. I'd cry, but I can't do that either. So instead, I just mentally huddle in the corner of my mind, making sure the fucker can't get any of it, none of it. I'd go quite mad, thank you.
What time is it? How many days has it been since the Change? Why for the love of God can't I remember my name? There's only one conclusion:
The damn thing took it, something that was rightfully mine to begin with, and discarded it, or something. I can feel the thing laughing at me. Laughing. Why? Why me? It's not like I did anything bad, or wrong. I'm not a sinner; or wasn't, anyways.
I don't freaking deserve this. That's all I can say. Wait - no, I mean, think. Goddamnit, my mind is falling apart already. Or is this the things doing? First, it starts off by taking away my normal functions, then it takes my name, and then some of my lesser memories. It's making me angry. Very, very, angry.
I open my eyes carefully, only to be greeted with a flood of unnatural light. It's sacrilegious, like those human fools. Those damn human fools.
Wait, my mind says, aren't we human?
No, no we're not. Humanity is no longer a part of us. The human thoughts are part of the complete Change. But no! Wait! It's this things doing! The parasite is
bursting into my thoughts. MY thoughts, not anyone else's. MINE! Don't be ridiculous...
I shut my eyes frantically, they open, I close them so they can only be awakened once more. They stay that way. Behind my blackened iris are my pupils, which I can
feel growing larger and larger, the colorless iris succumbing to the force - and then they dilate slowly until it's nothing but a pin-point. My body which is no longer mine to control shakes, I hear heavy thunder, and the octagonal room we enter is ripped apart by an explosion. Debris flies everywhere, but my contestant pushes my smelling, decaying body forward. Would you like to take a vowel? I sure would!
Fires have spread across the room, igniting anything suitable for the flames' taste. Thick black smoke drifts upwards in plumes, rolling over itself and ascending towards the ceiling where a large hole has been created. I'm still not sure where we are - maybe we're still on that ringworld? That elegant, soft flowing beauty of an ancient creation! I loved it so, it was more beautiful than Earth - and I can't tell if that is actually saying something or not, since the planet has succumbed to the Forces of Evil. Their real names? I forget.
My expressionless face is twitching. Have I been struck by the still falling rubble? I think I have! No vowel fah you, mistah contestant, them vowels ah mine.
Normally, I'd have burst out laughing, but the laughter burrows through my mind; once again reminding me that it stole my name. What was it again? I forget. And
what caused that explosion? Where are we now? Come on, contestant, give me a clue.
An old song (which one, though?) plays through my mind, quickly, like it's being fast forwarded. No time to pay attention to that though; so I concentrate on where my
contestant is taking the host, me being the host, remember? Of course you do, although I'm having trouble myself. Just like I'm having trouble remaining sane, but, I'm pretty sure that all people who are taken over by freaks hundreds of light years away from home go mad.
Something brushes my arm, I try to scream, I want to cry, I want to eat, I want to laugh - I can't, however, and remain on watching where I go. Where will I go? Nobody knows!
What's that cold metal feeling in the flat of my palms? Is it a weapon? Why, it really is! A shotgun, to be exact, one of the twelve-gauges.
Now I feel hot and itchy, but I can't scratch the itch or cool the warmth, it sucks, it really, really sucks. The sensation of hundreds of mosquitos biting your body with you standing there, helpless, is what I'm going through right now. I feel like I'm in a desert, but instead of cactus there's holo-panels, and instead of sand, there's ancient Forerunner metal. There's still vultures to gobble you up, though, and they'll do a pretty good job
too, if you don't choose to take a vowel. You'll be left in the metal Forerunner desert with holopanels, running from the man-eating vultures because you didn't choose to take a vowel. Damn, man, he should've taken the goddamn vowel. Now look! The vulture has a taste for decaying meat!
I feel different suddenly, and I can tell that while I have pondered about the deserts and the uncertainty of choosing or not choosing a vowel - the thing has taken my
memory, that lying fuck.
It growls, I growl. And it's not a friendly growl, like the one a bear gives you before he tears your head off, oh no, it was the guttural growl of a mutt, or a snake, or bugs.
Bugs and snakes and mutts and bears and vultures that would eat you if you or the contestant didn't choose a vowel.
With my memory fading away, and my mind fading with it. I attempt to gain control of my arm, but, I might as well have tried to talk with the parasite because it
wasn't about to let me take back my body. Then again, maybe it was.
A voice comes from far away, a voice so calm yet fierce that it both relaxes and frightens me. It makes me more relaxed than frightened, however, and I let the parasite do its dirty work. I've chosen the vowel, I'm safe. Fuck this eternal confinement, fuck everything. If I die, then the thing dies with me. Or if it dies, I'll die. Either way, I contend with the fact that I hear voices up ahead, human voices. I'll show them.
Come on, you dirty shits, I'll get you good. With the combined power of a freak and a psychopathic human we'll TEAR you to SHREDS! You better believe it, guys,
you've chosen not to take the vowel, and the vulture has decided to come and get you. We are in the desert after all.
The voice spoke again, slower this time, the two simple words resounding in my confused mind. I relax and let the contestant do his stuff with the shotgun.
I disappear into darkness, there's a light up ahead, but I know it's only the Marines or ODST's or SCIENTISTS who are THERE. Come on, people, I'm
My thoughts BREAK into a BLINDING screech, and I SUCCUMB TO THE FORCES OF EVIL.
(John Simmonds John Simmonds John Simmonds my name is John and I am already mad)
I see no more as I succumb to the inevitable energy created by the creature.
Given the respectable time to consider the following, I have come to the conclusion that it was Corporal John W. Simmonds that had appeared out of nowhere
once we had presumed him missing. It was definately him who attacked the small group of soldiers that had collected in the southern halls. He was restrained by a troupe of
wandering scientists who brought him back to the lab. I have a recording of what happened, capturing both the visual and audio of it, very clear, but very disturbing. In the video he keeps repeating "The eternal confinement marks the end of me, bastards!" with a slew of curses and growls, really scary. He kept claiming he was one of the Flood, but he was very human indeed.
He was insane, of course, his body had marks on it, but he had been lucky. He, out of the two other people along with him, was the only survivor. Makes you think, doesn't it? We found them dead, both shot in the head with an M90 Shotgun, it was some pretty sick shit. However, Simmonds had shown signs of lunacy ever since he joined the Corps, starting with when he was the only person to escape from the Warthog accident at Boot, and then that time again when the Pelican crashed, and he was the only one who had managed to grab a parachute and land safely. They had found the bodies, though, all with bullet holes found in buried in their temples. Again, some pretty sickening shit.
We caught the bastard, though, and he'll spend some time at the Asylum. Nothing seemed to provoke his craziness, which is something everyone finds very weird. Anyways, this is First Sergeant Derrick Vladimir, and I'm reporting this on behalf of the ONI corporation.