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Signs and Symptomps of an Infected.
The first and most common symptom, coughing.
Saps turned his head towards the direction of the sound, his eyes catching the movement of Flux's hand as it moved upward to cover his mouth.
A majority of subjects reported experiencing throat irritation within moments to several days following infection.
He frowned. He has always been wary, always vigilant, whenever someone from their group coughs or sneezes or sniffles, because for all that Saparata knows, it could be a tell of something.
Initial discomfort was often described as a persistent itch or dryness in the throat, prompting frequent attempts to clear the airway.
He slowed his steps to match Flux's pace. Once he had caught up, he asked, "Are you okay?"
As the condition progressed, these sensations typically developed into coughing episodes.
Flux glared. "I'm fine," he said.
Prolonged coughing frequently resulted in noticeable vocal strain,
And before the follow-up question even left Saps' lips, he spoke up once again. "It's just the air," he added, voice raspy and low.
…causing subjects' voices to become increasingly hoarse, raspy, or weakened over time.
He saw the dismissive look Flux gave him before he turned around; the disheveled state of his back, dirt-streaked and covered with grime and bandages, was displayed in front of him as he walked away to catch up with the others upfront.
Second symptom was that the participants showed signs of fatigue and sluggishness —
Saps looked back and found that Flux had fallen behind. He stopped by the edge and stood completely still, while the whole group has already walked a far distance from him, already descending from the building. He looked like a statue, looking over the horizon.
— gradually growing slower when it came to carrying out their usual tasks.
He walked over, without hesitation, and placed a hand over his shoulder. "Need a break?"
More than half of the subjects exhibited noticeable decreases in mobility and reaction time,
Flux blinked, in response. Only then did he seem to remember where he was, when his mind registered the person that was beside him.
accompanied by prolonged periods of inactivity and reduced awareness of their surroundings.
The man made a quick move of his shoulder, nudging the hand off of it. The immediate withdrawal painted a sour look on Flux's face as he scowled, "I'm fine."
These episodes were initially mistaken for ordinary exhaustion,
"Are you sure?"
as many participants reported feeling physically well,
Annoyed with all the questions, Flux had no choice but to close his eyes and sigh. "I was just tired, okay?"
…despite exhibiting noticeable decreases in movement and responsiveness.
The evident irritation was painted all over his face, brows furrowed and eyes glared at Saps. "Always on my fucking ass," he muttered, under his breath, to which Saps only hummed in turn.
In several documented cases,
"If you say so," he said, with a shrug, before he turned back towards the exit.
subjects were found standing in place,
"Let's go, then. They've left us already." His voice sounded farther and farther away, the more steps he took ahead of Flux.
…while staring at a fixed point.
Fluixon stayed quiet, then. It took him a moment before he followed suit.
For the third symptom, patients started experiencing bouts of forgetfulness.
The knock on the door startled Saps — almost flinched as the unexpected noise broke the silence engulfing the whole lab. He was sure that it was hours past midnight — who, exactly, could've been outside his doorstep?
The majority of cases involved momentary disruptions in short-term memory.
Slowly, the door swung open. It took a few seconds for Saps' eyes to adjust to the darkness, before he could make out the figure in front of him.
Subjects would frequently forget the purpose of an action they had initiated only moments prior,
"Flux?"
…requiring several seconds to recall their original intent.
Fluixon stood there, before Saps, hands clutching some sort of packet. The way he looked reminded Saps of how he was weeks before, when he found him standing on the edge of the rooftop.
In controlled environments, participants were observed entering rooms —
"What are you doing here?"
— and subsequently becoming unable to explain why they had gone there in the first place.
There was no answer, to Saparata's question. There was only a flash of recognition sprayed across Flux's face — he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
Unlike conventional memory loss, these lapses rarely involved the inability to remember names, faces, or long-term experiences.
Saps remained puzzled. He really didn't have time for this, he still had potions to mix — ingredients to prepare —
Rather, subjects appeared to lose track of immediate intentions, and recently formed thoughts.
"If you're here to mess with me, I don't have time—"
Attempts to reconstruct the missing thought process often proved unsuccessful.
"I…" His voice trailed, not quite finishing what he was about to say. Saps watched Flux blink and close his eyes multiple times, watched as he fumbled and struggled to find the proper words to explain why he was wandering around the lab.
Subjects would pause for several seconds —
Some sort of feeling — dread? nervousness? confusion? he couldn't quite place it yet — settled in between Saps' ribs as he observed how Flux was acting.
or, in some cases, several minutes —
"Flux—"
— while trying to retrace their reasoning.
"Don't." He raised up a hand. "I was just—making sure you were working."
The majority eventually abandoned the effort altogether,
Saps couldn't help but examine him as his mind recalled all the abnormalities that Fluixon has displayed recently. "Have you been… resting, Flux?"
and most resumed their normal behavior shortly afterward,
"Mind your own business," he snapped, as an answer. Flux showed the usual dark and grim look immediately after he seemed to have regained the awareness he was lacking moments ago. "Make sure to finish the cure for Magic as soon as possible. You're taking too much time."
as they displayed little concern regarding the incident.
He gave Saps one last look before he disappeared into the night. Saps thinks that he saw Flux gripping his left arm, but he must've been seeing things.
Last but not the least…
Subjects approaching the terminal stage of infection frequently exhibited signs of severe emotional and psychological distress.
Saparata's grip tightened on the man's collar as he pinned him down, forcefully.
Researchers documented heightened states of agitation;
His hands were shaking as he took a hold of Flux's arms and shoulders, disregarding how the latter's nails were digging through his skin —
Panic;
— the stinging feeling of scratches opening and seeping blood traversing all around his body —
Paranoia;
As he ignored the hoarse sound that Flux was screaming.
and hysteria; in a significant majority of cases during the final hours preceding conversion.
Saps didn't care — couldn't, really — because he was all aware now of the viscous, festering wound that was planted almost everywhere on Flux's body.
He knew something was wrong. The coughing, catching him spacing out, the night he wandered aimlessly to the lab — each and every one of these should've made sense in Saps' mind — he didn't know why it didn't, why it took him so long — too long — to piece it together. To see. Did he give Flux too much credit to think that he won't ever get bitten? Did it have to take Flux staggering as he walked, causing him to fall over, causing Saps to finally see what was hidden beneath those grimey bandages — did it have to take Flux's blood oozing out from the gauze that covered his shoulders his back his leg his hips, for Saps to finally notice?
He didn't even know, where to hold, which part to tend to; didn't know what to do with his shaking hands. "How long have you been hiding this from me?" His voice, equally shaking as his fingers, tore out from his throat. Saps needed to think, needed to get up and —
"Don't touch me!"
Episodes were often characterized by irrational behavior, heightened aggression, and intense fear responses.
Flux roars, wriggling free from Saparata's grasp. His arm extended to hit him in the face, hard enough to draw more blood that Saps could now taste on his tongue, all metallic and bitter. He couldn't react fast enough, couldn't stand back up when he landed on the floor, because Flux kept pushing away and fraying around to keep distance between them; the sound of glass shattering reverbrated around the laboratory as Flux knocked everything down.
Subjects were observed striking nearby objects, attempting to flee from perceived threats, or lashing out at caretakers and fellow participants.
He tried to stand, hands pushing himself up from the fall. "Flux, I just want to help—"
Any effort to calm or reassure affected individuals,
"I don't need your help!"
Generally produced limited results.
The feeling of the glass shard pricking the skin of his palms mixed with the ringing in his ears; with the taste of blood on his tongue; with the heaviness that was weighing down his chest as he looked straight into Flux's bloodshot eyes that most probably could only see red and red and red. He thinks that all he wants to do, if he could just muster up all of his strength and push himself up from the floor, is to grab the man by his neck and restrain him and inject the cure that he's been working on.
By the onset of these symptoms, the infection had invariably progressed beyond the point of effective medical intervention.
But he couldn't, because the fatigue had caught up to him, the fatigue from every night that he deprived himself of sleep just to come up with something, anything, that could possibly help during moments like these. To say that he was tired was an understatement — it felt gruesome, for Saparata, to look out the window every day just to see that the sun has finally risen and yet he has little to no progress, that he has no clue whether this would work, whether this was what would save them.
As neurological deterioration accelerated —
That's why he needed to stand up, needed to get a hold of Flux so he could figure it all out.
violent behavior —
But before he could do so, he heard the shuffling; heard the clicking, before he saw what Flux had done.
became increasingly erratic and unpredictable.
"Put it down, Flux."
Many appeared overwhelmed by fear,
"Don't come near me!"
Some with confusion, or panic,
"Flux, please, I have the cure. Just—"
While others demonstrated explosive anger.
"BULLSHIT! I will not be one of your fucking test subjects!"
Attempts to reason frequently intensified the severity of the outburst.
"God fucking damn it, Flux! I'm tired of this!" He takes a step forward, one that was too near, too abrupt. Flux raised the gun higher, aligned it with Saps' head. "Why—why can't you just listen, for once?! Why are you always so—"
There were numerous incidents wherein subjects reacted to simple interactions as though they were being threatened, cornered, or attacked.
"No—NO! You're only doing this because you want to experiment on me—on all of us!"
Researchers noted that many subjects became overtly confrontational,
"You don't know anything!"
issuing verbal threats,
"Stay away from me!"
and displaying increasingly hostile body language.
The bullet burst out of the gun with an ear splitting bang; the shot hitting the wall just behind Saparata.
Impulsivity increased in parallel with these abnormalities.
Flux staggered back a few steps from the recoil, arms and legs going numb — he was losing too much blood; it was getting harder for him to move. All he could do now was to continuously shoot; the sound of bullets whistled everywhere, hitting every corner of the room.
Subjects displayed a marked reduction in inhibitory control.
High levels of concentration was impossible for Flux's situation, he couldn't aim properly, and it was easy for Saps to duck and avoid the shots coming his way. With the sheer rush of adrenaline, he was able to sever the distance between them, knocking the gun out of Flux's hands before he could continue pulling the trigger, and gripped him tightly down to the ground.
In numerous documented cases, aggression persisted until the point of conversion itself.
He held him, with every strength that was left in his body, held him by the shoulders in an attempt to restrain him, even as he scratches, even as he screams and yells stop stop stop stop —
Researchers concluded that once severe psychological destabilization and hysteria became apparent,
"This is for your own good."
…irreversible neurological degradation had already occurred.
"Why—" He rasped. "Why can't you just—let me be?!"
All experimental treatments, suppressants, and prototype cures tested during this stage —
Saparata pinned him down with bloodied right arm, while his other scrambled to find the syringe. It dropped here somewhere. "I'm going to save you, Flux."
— demonstrated negligible success rates.
"Get off me!"
As such,
"Stop fucking—"
the emergence of these symptoms should not be regarded as a warning sign of imminent conversion,
"Get—off me!"
but rather as confirmation that the conversion process is already underway.
"Are you not afraid?!" He screamed. "Are you not afraid of dying?!"
At this stage, no documented treatment has succeeded in halting or reversing the infection.
Flux replied, with a scowl: "Fuck you! I'd rather die than be a fucking experiment—"
Immediate containment is strongly advised.
"For the love of God!" Saparata's fingers tightened around his shoulders, knuckles protruding. "You're about to turn, Flux! This is all that I can to help you—"
The prognosis for affected individuals is —
"I need to do this. I need to know if it works—I don't give a damn if you'll hate me after this."
for all practical purposes —
" Just let me help you, please."
— non-recoverable.
Saps' hand was able to grasp what he was looking for. The syringe. The only thing that can save Flux. The cure.
The question was no longer whether conversion would occur.
Please, let it work.
But rather, when.
An ear shattering scream resounded from Flux.
At this stage,
Saparata injected the cure near every bite and wound.
There is no cure.
Please.
There is no treatment.
Please, God. If you're out there.
It is already too late.
Make it work.