When nanites infected you, it was a matter of hours.
Harold had given up struggling; there wasn't any point, now.
Already, they were altering him - turning him into Samaritan's slave, a mindless soldier to track down and kill her enemies.
He wished he could have told John good-bye. Wished his friends wouldn't have to see his face in Samaritan's ranks.
At least John wouldn't be fooled: Hybrid soldiers acted strange, nothing like the people they had been before the transformation.
Already, he could hear her voice whispering in his mind. For now, he could resist - but for how much longer?