The door before him makes his stomach churn in a decidedly unpleasant way. It hurts to even look at it, his heart race in such a way that he wondered if he was about to have a goddamn heart attack. He didn't want to do this. Christ, but he didn't, but what other choice did he have? His fingers extended, brushing against the knob, and memories flashed through him unbidden.

He'd been happy before. Never rich, never satisfied, but happy with Lola in his life. Then the apocalypse had hit... the bandits, the casino, the og--and now this was it.

Al felt something shift within him--within them.

He was an immense being, seeing All through the eyes of many. In the end, they were all One. It was better this way, to belong to this collective and no so much rather than suffering in solitude.

Something argued with him, but he ignored it. There was nothing left to focus on but spreading, becoming More than he was--and suddenly, once more, he was aware of himself. Al tried to shout, but lacked the voice to do so, his vision obscured with vines that writhed and shivered nearby.

He's... this thing now. The vines form limbs and arms for him--some of them, anyway, and the thing that was once Al stumbles forward with the intent of getting the hell away. Something shifted in the vines, and hope beat in his breast for only an instant. Was it his? His body?

No. It was wrong--green like the vines, but not. Monstrous and twisted, the visage of the creature that had... saved him. Guilt wracked him for a moment, but he stubbornly shoved it aside. How was he supposed to know it was trying to save him?

Regardless... he wasn't about to let this thing die for him.

Carefully, Al pushed the vines away, a little surprised when they willingly surrendered their prize. He began to drag the beast with him, his movements slow and careful. The farther he walked, the more he felt... like he was fading. He was tied to these things, these vines, and he knew that if he went too far, he'd be undone entirely.

He could not breathe, but he felt like panting, forcing his feet to carry him down the stairs and closer to the exit of this place. He was nearly gone, saw shadows in the distance stirring and watching him. They were not Infected. Not yet. With all the effort he could muster, he placed his rescuer at the edge of the building and backed away. The shadows swept forth, taking their own, and he retreated back up the stairs.

This is what he was condemned to be? A ******** that. Al wandered back towards the center, having no other choice.]