As Harley's consciousness began to slip, a flood of memories washed over him, a kaleidoscope of moments etched vividly in his mind. Images of happier times, filled with laughter, joy, and kinship, played out before his inner eye like a nostalgic reel of a bygone era.
In a strange way, these memories provided a comfort in his current state, their warmth and nostalgia soothing the fear and pain that gripped him. He recalled simpler times, moments shared with friends and teammates, the bond they had formed a stark contrast to the chaos they now faced.
Harley's thoughts drifted to an image of him and his friends gathered in a bar, raising glasses in a solemn pact of unity. The memory of the oath they had taken together echoed through his mind: a promise to live and die together. This recollection was a poignant reminder of the bonds they shared, the trust and loyalty that had grown strong through their years working together.
As the memories faded, he was jolted back to the present by a soft, innocent voice echoing through his mind. "You won't die like this, right?" the voice asked, a sweet and pleading tone cutting through the haze of his fading consciousness. The words sent a pang through his heart as he struggled to focus his vision in the washroom, the world around him still hazy and blurred.
Harley's voice echoed through the washroom, a defiant declaration ripping through the air. "I won't die!" he shouted, his voice strained but firm, "Even if death itself is for me, I won't let it happen." The determination in his words was a stark contrast to the transformation his body was undergoing, a battle waged in both physical and mental realms.
In a burst of frenzied emotion, Harley's fist smashed through the glass, fragments shattering into tiny pieces that cascaded into the sink. The pain from the impact hardly registered as he stared at the broken shards, his eyes reflecting a mixture of despair and defiance.
Harley stared at his bleeding fists, the pain barely registering as his single-minded determination took precedence. Blood trickled down his fingers, yet he didn't bat an eye, his focus solely on maintaining his consciousness and resisting the transformation.
As the transformation progressed, Harley's body became more zombie-like, but there was a stark contrast to the other undead. Despite the changes, something was different about him — he wasn't entirely like the other lifeless, mindless monsters. There was a flicker of consciousness, a hint of life still remaining. His body, now partially zombified, bore testament to the battle waged within his mind.
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Harley's appearance was not that of a typical zombie. Instead, his body had become a stark white color, giving him a surreal and haunting look. While he possessed some of the characteristics of the undead, his appearance was more akin to a human with an extreme loss of color and vitality. This difference in appearance set him apart from the other mindless hordes, a living paradox amidst the chaos.
As Harley gazed into the mirror, his reflection stared back at him with a cold, emotionless glare. The transformation had left his face a pale, white canvas, devoid of warmth and life. It was as if the very essence of his humanity had been sapped away, leaving behind a hollow shell of the man he once was.
The transformation had irrevocably changed Harley. Inside him, emotions that had once brought life to his being now felt distant and faded. The virus's influence had altered him in profound ways, erasing much of what made him human. Yet, he had gained some measure of control over the virus, enough to prevent the mindless aggression and single-minded hunger that defined the other undead.
Harley's gaze fell upon his healed fists, the skin now flawless and smooth, a stark contrast to the recent injuries. A mix of confusion and realization washed over him. The virus had granted him powers, abilities beyond the bounds of human limits. Yet, as he contemplated the transformation's aftermath, he couldn't help but ponder the price he had paid for these newfound abilities.
As Harley grappled with the implications of his new abilities, he came to the bitter realization that he had lost the one thing that defined humanity, emotions. The transformation had stripped away the very essence of what it meant to be human, leaving him with a void where feelings once thrived.
The employees who had heard Harley's earlier shout rushed into the washroom, the door left open in his state of confusion and transformation. They took in the scene with widening eyes, their reactions ranging from shock to horror at the sight of Harley's partially transformed body and the shattered glass in the sink.