He keeps moving north, headed for the worst of the fray. There are people to save, monsters to kill. He feels more in his element than he has in half a year.

On a side street north of Mog Hill, though, he crumples to his knees. Nausea, sudden and overwhelming. He holds his shotgun against his body, his other hand going to the pavement for balance. He's vaguely aware of something moving nearby, near a sewer grate. He raises the gun with an unsteady hand but he can't focus his eyes well enough to fire, just yet.

It's moving closer. He has to fire. He tries to will his eyes to focus but another wave of disorientation crashes through him.