(Guy's just a living scarecrow now ? _-_-_-_)

Confusion and fear flickered across their faces as they struggled to piece together what they were witnessing. One of the employees, regaining his composure, took a hesitant step closer to Harley, his voice faltering as he spoke. "Harley, is that you...?"

Harley turned his gaze towards the employees, his expression distant and cold. With a voice devoid of warmth or familiarity, he responded, his tone eerily lacking in emotion. "Yes, it's me."

The employees exchanged uneasy glances, taken aback by Harley's detached demeanor. The transformation had indeed changed him, evident in his expressionless face and cold voice. One of them hesitantly asked, "Harley... What happened to you?"

Harley regarded them with detached eyes, his transformation making it difficult to feel the same connection he once shared with his colleagues. A tinge of resignation laced his reply. "The virus... it transformed me."

The employees exchanged shocked glances as Harley confirmed his infection, the realization of the situation dawning on them. There was a collective intake of breath, followed by a hush that fell over the group. The idea of dealing with an infected colleague had sent a wave of discomfort and trepidation through them. One of them nervously ventured, "You're... you're infected then?"

Harley nodded, the gesture confirming their fears. His expression remained stoic and unemotional, a chilling reminder of his transformation. The employees' unease grew as they took in the reality of the situation. One of them asked in a shaky voice, "What does it... does it feel like? Being infected?"

Harley looked at them, his eyes void of the warmth once found within. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating his own transformation before responding, "It feels different. Emotions are gone, replaced by something else. It's like a part of me is missing, but I can feel... power."

The employees' faces paled further as they absorbed Harley's description. They exchanged glances, the mixture of shock and fear visible in their expressions. One of them, unable to hide their trepidation, spoke with a quivering voice, "You're saying you don't feel anything anymore? No emotions, no... no normal feelings?"

The fear in the employees' eyes intensified as Harley confirmed his lack of emotions, and the implications of his infection became more apparent. They instinctively stepped back, creating a bit of distance between them and Harley. One of them nervously glanced around, as if expecting the virus to jump at them at any moment. Another voiced their newfound fear, "We can get infected... being too close, right?"

The employees huddled together, their voices low as they conversed amongst themselves. They stole furtive glances at Harley, their whispers a mixture of dread and alarm. Words like "danger" and "infection" echoed through their hushed conversations, reflecting the paranoia that had settled upon them.

The employees practically recoiled as Harley came near, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. They hastily backed away, creating a wide berth around him as he walked past. Their expressions painted a picture of unease and wariness, a silent prayer for their own safety playing in their minds.

Harley's words cut through the air, his tone emotionless and devoid of empathy. "I will leave," he stated, his voice flat and dispassionate. "I don't want to keep you in danger." The employees looked at each other, their faces etched with a mix of relief and uncertainty. One of them spoke up, their voice shaky, "Where... where will you go?"

Harley's cold, dispassionate response sent a shiver down the employees' spines, further highlighting the drastic change in him. As he stated, "I'm no longer afraid of being bitten. I will survive," it was hard to reconcile this new version of him with the person they once knew. One of the employees, still on edge, questioned, "What do you mean, you'll survive? How?"

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Harley picked up his bag, the supplies within a tangible reminder of the grim situation he was in. The employees watched silently, their tension nearly palpable. One of them, still visibly unnerved, asked, "What's in the bag?"

Harley responded simply, "Stuff I collected." The employees looked at each other, the implications of his brief response clear. It was apparent that Harley was prepared, having gathered whatever supplies he deemed necessary in his bag. This realization only heightened the sense of unease and discomfort among the employees.

Harley ascended the staircase, his footsteps echoing eerily in the silence of the building. As he reached the floor where his cabin was, the air seemed heavy with an ominous presence. The employees had watched him leave, their faces etched with a mixture of confusion and anxiety, wondering what would become of their former colleague.

Harley reached his cabin, the familiar surroundings now tinged with an air of the unknown. He approached a cabinet, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the items inside.

As Harley emerged from the cabin, he had changed into a loose black shirt and simple jeans. Although his expression remained emotionless as ever, there was something distinctly different about his appearance. The transformation had altered not only his internal chemistry but also his external appearance, making him seem nearly otherworldly. The employees who had seen him earlier would have had difficulty recognizing him in this new form, as the changes were significant.

The transformation he had undergone had brought about physiological changes in his body, the most notable being a muscular physique that he had never possessed before. His muscles were now toned and defined, creating a stark contrast to his former appearance. It was clear that the virus had not only altered his emotions but also his physical abilities.

Harley's skin had undergone a drastic transformation, turning an unnatural shade of white as if resembling that of a corpse. The paleness was in stark contrast to the healthy tan he had before, further testament to the profound changes the virus had wrought upon his body.

The employees gathered around, their faces contorted with a mix of awe and apprehension. Anna, one of the employees, approached Harley cautiously, her eyes wide with shock as she took in his changed appearance. She couldn't help but blurt out, "Harley, your skin... it's so pale..."

Anna looked at Harley with concern, her caring nature shining through despite her shock. She knew that he had been infected and that he was now different, but she couldn't help but worry about where he would go next. She asked softly, "Harley, where are you going to go now?"

Harley's reply was composed and direct, his expression still eerily devoid of emotion. "I'll find somewhere to live and survive," he said, his voice flat and impassive. "The support teams will come and help the survivors. Just hold on and keep hopeful." The words seemed to hold a deeper meaning, as if Harley had accepted his new reality and was preparing to face it alone.

Anna looked at him, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. "But... Harley," she began, her voice laced with worry. "What if you get even more infected? What if they don't find a cure?"

Harley's response was matter-of-fact, his tone still devoid of inflection. "If that were the case, I would've turned into one of those creatures long ago." The implication was palpable: Harley seemed resigned to his fate, accepting the fact that he could become one of the infected at any point.

Harley's stoic face softened slightly as he recognized his friend. "John?" he asked, a tinge of recognition in his otherwise emotionless voice. Seeing John's weary appearance, Harley asked, "You survived?"

John nodded, his breath still ragged from the struggle he had endured. "Yeah," he replied between pants, "I made it." He looked at Harley, his brow furrowed in concern. "You...you look different."

Harley acknowledged the change in himself, his expressionless face giving nothing away. "The virus... it transformed me," he said matter-of-factly, his voice betraying no emotion. John looked at him, a sense of unease in his eyes. "But your skin... it's so pale."

Harley lifted a hand to his face, tracing the paleness of his skin. "Yes," he confirmed, his emotionless tone belying the gravity of his condition. "The transformation has its price."

John's brow furrowed deeper, a mix of worry and curiosity in his eyes. "What about your emotions?" he asked cautiously, clearly concerned about the profound changes Harley had undergone.

Harley looked at him, his eyes devoid of warmth. "They're gone," he stated bluntly, the absence of emotion in his voice accentuating the impact of his words.

end of chapter seven-