The Imperfect's Journal: 2

July 20th, 2066

I'm not patrolling, today, which has given my head and legs some much-deserved rest. Instead of being assigned a patrol, I was given a very simple instruction: sit in front of a large metal door overnight. It means I get a break from training, tomorrow, so I don't mind how boring this is.

Several days ago, a shipment arrived with an odd crate. Everyone has been talking about what was in the crate before it was taken down to a bunker. Some think it could be a Renewer bomb, others are saying Dr. Crane himself was captured and discretely transported here to Madagascar.

I don't know what was in the crate. I do know that the same crate is right in front of me, in the center of this long, otherwise empty room. The crate has been opened and whatever was inside of it has been pulled into the room beyond the metal door I'm guarding.

I don't hear anything coming from that side of the door. Not a single sound. No one has come by with food or water, either. Whatever is on the other side of the door doesn't seem to have a need to eat, which makes me think that "a bomb" is the most likely answer to the question everyone has been aski [Editor's Note: Darren seems to have stopped writing, here. He moves on to say something else, which he presumably believed to be more important than finishing his previous thought.]

I saw it. I got just a quick glimpse, but I saw it. And I know what it is, because I saw one back in Europe. They brought an afflicted here. An afflicted. One of those corpse-like, yellow-eyed, jaw-unhinged monsters. I caught a glimpse when the metal door was opened by a pair of women in white lab coats.

The thing was chained and seemed to be contained in a glass case, but... it still doesn't seem safe. What are they thinking? How do they know that the thing can't just break out? How do they know that merely being around it won't result in the rest of us catching... whatever it has.

I don't want to turn into one of those things. Please, don't let me turn into one of those things. Take my memories. Crush my spine. Make me die in agony. Just don't turn me into an afflicted.

I want to tell someone. Trent? Elise? I don't know. I have to find someone, though. I need to know if there's something I should be doing. This is madness! Utter madness.