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Sonic felt the virus creep up his lower arm like a snake. It was freezing, the cold of it biting every nerve it swallowed up. Though it didn't hurt long- the virus quickly silenced any cries of pain his body sent to him.
Numbness. He'd thought he'd felt the peak of numbness when he was being tortured by Eggman. Though the infection itself could certainly be considered a special form of torture.
His whole left arm was numb now. It was a relief. The pain was gone. He could hit more zombots without worrying about it. The wounds couldn't keep him from doing anything now.
He took a steady breath in and let the virus progress. Just a little further. Let the numb take over a little more. Feel a little less.
It bled across his chest, weighing down on his lungs and painting him in a sickeningly unnatural chrome. He was used to the extra weight by now, but he'd never get over the chills it gave him, no matter how many times he'd willingly let the virus spread. At first, it would just be an intense shiver as the infection moved- not entirely foreign. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it was even relaxing. Like purging anxieties. Like a cold shower.
Then came the numbness: finally, a chance to feel nothing. To be nothing. To separate from this damned contaminated body. But the best part was what came next.
It wasn't anything too foreign, to be honest. A simple tingling Sonic could feel under his skin. It wasn't unlike that feeling you get when your foot is asleep. It was different. It was something. It was euphoric after the numbness. His body was finally waking up after all these months.
He hated it. He needed it. He was addicted to it- to letting his infection almost get the better of him.
He sucked in another breath of air and focused on feeling it spread. Slowly, methodically, mechanically, it moved inch by inch, further and further, deeper and deeper into him. His muscles creaked as they stiffened, both in reaction to and directly caused by the infection.
His body was no longer his. He drank in the dark, twisted thought and relished the feeling. Disgusting. Treacherous, even.
But it felt so nice .
It would be so easy to let it in completely. So painfully easy. Only moments from now, he could stop feeling anything else. Just that euphoric, artificial buzz in every nerve.
And after that? He’d be gone. Completely and totally gone. No need to worry. Nothing to do except give the others that same feeling. His friends would be free, too-
His eyes snapped open. He willed every muscle to move immediately, shredding every bit of the infection with his movement. The pain was incredible.
He moved as fast as he could, then pushed further and faster. He had to purge those thoughts out, he had to-
The infection was hot now. Molten metal on his body, in his body, and all he could do was move faster to dissolve it away, to carry the thoughts with it until the urge inevitably returned. His skin was burning. He was going to collapse.
But he couldn’t, yet- not as long as he still had that lust. To take somebody- anybody- to doom them to his own fate. He had to go faster. He had to stop thinking.
The chrome was gone from his chest, but he still felt the weight. He still struggled with every heaving, shaking breath. The pain was beginning to become overwhelming.
He felt hot tears streaming down his face- hot like molten metal? No, no, just from the pain. He wasn’t losing this fight. He would hold out. He couldn’t let it win. He couldn’t let Eggman win.
With that, his strength gave out. He tripped over his own steps and faceplanted in the dirt below him. He looked at his hand and was relieved to see the infection had retreated sufficiently. He was dizzy. His head hurt.
He was disgusting. The inside of him was toxic. He had to purge. He wretched and vomited into the dirt.
He didn’t feel any less revolting.