[An accidental voice recording. It starts out with the familiar fuzzy static sound, before Hol's voice finally becomes clear.]
I don't... I don't recall what I was doing before I came outside...
Taking shelter from the rain... but why do I feel so weak...?
It's like a fever... like before... but this isn't the same.
[There's an eruption of coughs escaping him, before he finally clears his throat.]
Ergh... Maybe i-if I just sit down?... then this nauseous feeling will go away... Oh?
[Hol Horse has finally taken notice that the recording light seems to be going. Thinking nothing outright bad will come of this, he begins what he thinks would be a normal voice post.]
Hn. So I got a little turned around and couldn't-- get...
I couldn't get back to my... HNGH!!
[There's the sound of the communicator dropping and hitting the ground... the video feed turning on. Blurred screen focuses in on Hol's frame, who's down on his hands and knees. His entire body is quivering as a strangled cry escapes him. His gaze is focused upon the ground as a hand clutches at his chest. Eventually, the man drops onto his side and takes notice of the communicator once again. He tries to reach out to grip the device.]
It hurts..!!
[His squeezed shut as his jaw clenched tight. There was no one he could really call out for help, as he was unsure of who to trust... so he called out for the only person he served. Even though he knew such an action was worthless.]
L-Lord Dio!!
[His back arched as his boots tried to dig into the ground, his body writhing in pain. Hands reached out to claw at the sky while small black butterflies began to eat their way out of his chest. Hol's cries were finally drowned out with a flurry of hundreds, thousands of butterfly wings. The screen was covered in inky darkness before returning to static and finally cutting out completely.]
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