(Paper found next to zombie wearing rebel cloathing)
Journal Entry #47

I don’t know how long I’ve been down here. The air tastes like rust and mold, and the only light comes from the illuminating slime trailing down the walls. But I need to write this down. Someone has to know. Someone has to remember.
The Headcrab Cult. I thought they were just another rumor, but they’re real. I saw them. I barely escaped.
They don’t discriminate. Rebels, citizens, even Combine Overwatch units. Anyone can be taken. They don’t kill you, not exactly. They convert you. They call it “Belief Injection.” It starts with a syringe, filled with something amber and brown, pulsing like it’s alive. Headcrab DNA, they say it is. A gift. A key.
After that, you’re not the same. You lose your sense of self. You stop resisting. You want to be part of them. You want to be part of "the Hive". They believe that headcrabs aren’t parasites, but messengers. Vessels of unity. They think the zombie state is transcendence. That when the headcrab latches on, it doesn’t kill you, it frees you. Links you. Makes you "whole".
They always wear masks. Bone-white, featureless, like blank slates. I’ve never seen one without it. Rumor has it, the DNA injection warps their faces, makes them more “receptive.” Some say they grow- [a long line of blood is covering the words]. Others say their eyes fuse shut so they can “see inward.” I don’t know. But the worst are the ones in gray.
"Prophecies". As if they are the message, not just the messenger. They speak in a gurgling, clicking tongue that makes the headcrabs twitch like they’re listening. Like they understand what they're saying. I saw one speak to a fast headcrab and it stopped. Just froze. Then turned and scuttled away like it had received orders.
They’re not organized. Just scattered cells. But they’re loyal. Fanatical. They’ll die for the cause without hesitation. And worse: they’ll convert for it.
I lost two squadmates last week. One was dragged into a sewer pipe, screaming. The other went silent after a gray-robed figure touched his forehead. He- [blood smear covers another two sentences].
I don’t know how to fight them. You can’t reason with them. You can’t scare them. They don’t want to live, they want to merge. And every time I sleep, I hear that clicking language in my dreams. If you find this journal, spread it. Spread the message. Don’t let them take you. Unification is not salvation. It’s- [the rest of this paper is burned at the bottom].

They Hate Vortigaunts

jornaul entry 4
oooh im going crazy oooh ahhh