Mission 15 was a mission to open boxes.
You absorb stacy's brain.
You start dancing, uncontrollably dancing. Your lower body spasms and wrenches itself about, half formed legs- Limb shaped boils, clubbed feet with dozens of toes pushing up like weeds through strained, clear skin, nascent muscles swelling and splitting out of the skin, the mushy red flesh dissolving into pus- jerking about in a distorted can-can as they bubble up. Xan's entire upper body melts and reforms into a 15 foot tall, oddly feminine leg. In place of a foot, the leg ends in a head, a sort of half fused tumorous lump which holds a composite of both Xan and Stacy's face. Xan's face is distorted with agony and terror while stacy's is serene and peaceful, smiling even. A mane of dancing legs sprouts around the head, grotesquely elongated, multi-jointed limbs which twitch and sway like the tentacles of a Sea anemone.
"Come!" The face sings, multi-tonal voice ringing like a thousand bells, "Let us dance! Let us sing the end of this world!"
Faces sprout on the leg, coming up like boils, Smiling Stacy faces. They begin to sing. And the room begins to burn.