CHAPTER SIX: STEELBACK’S TRAP

The desert night stretched vast and unbroken, a sea of sand beneath a cold, indifferent moon. The wind whispered secrets across the dunes, carrying with it the faintest scent of ozone and decay. The mercenaries lay in wait, hidden beneath cloaking fields and sensor dampeners, their breaths shallow. 

Their leader, Steelback, stood at the center of their formation, armor gleaming faintly under the moonlight—a patchwork of cutting-edge Tinker tech and salvaged Endbringer-fighting equipment. He was a mountain of a man, his presence as unyielding as the steel that bore his name.

He glanced at his wrist display. ETA: Three minutes. 

“Final check.” His voice was a low growl over the comms.

The responses came swift and practised, yet professionally, each member of the team confirming their readiness. 

“Rail teams in position.” 

“Disruptors armed.” 

“Containment grid stable.” 

“Gravitic anchors charged. We’re locked in.” 

Steelback exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible over the hum of their equipment. This had to work. The thing they were hunting had faced parahumans before—had survived a team of Case 53s despite their superior number and power. But tonight was different. They had studied it, tracked its battles, analyzed its adaptations. It had weaknesses, and they were about to exploit every single one. 

The sensors pinged. 

Movement. 

“It’s here,” whispered one of the spotters.

A ripple moved through the dunes. A shape emerged—a twisted, shifting mass of flesh, hunched low like a predator stalking its prey. Its form flickered, flesh folding and unfolding into itself, as if it couldn’t decide how best to exist in this world. 

Then it stopped, head tilting. 

Steelback’s stomach tightened. 

It had sensed them.

“Fire!” he barked.

The night exploded.

Railguns thundered, hypervelocity rounds shattering the air. Sonic disruptors screamed, their frequencies tuned to destabilize the thing’s cellular cohesion. The containment grid flared to life, flooding the battlefield with electromagnetic interference, disrupting its ability to restructure its form on the fly.

The thing shrieked—a sound that was less a noise and more a physical force, vibrating through bones and teeth. The first volley struck true, chunks of its body tearing away under the onslaught. Its flesh sizzled and writhed, the wounds lingering instead of sealing instantly. 

Steelback allowed himself a grim smile. It’s working. 

“Keep up the pressure.”

The mercenaries obeyed without hesitation, unloading another salvo. Plasma lances carved through the air, forcing the thing to contort unnaturally to avoid direct hits. Its body thickened in response, carapace-like plates forming over its shifting flesh. Despite the interference, it was still adapting—just slower than before. 

Steelback clenched his fists, his armor’s servos whining in protest. We need to push harder.

“Deploy the secondary wave!”

Harpoons launched, their tethers snapping taut as they embedded into the thing’s flesh. Gravitic anchors activated, pinning it in place. For a moment, it seemed to falter, its movements sluggish, its form struggling to compensate. 

But then—it adapted. 

The harpoons were ejected as its flesh hardened, rejecting foreign materials like a body purging poison. The sonic disruptors dulled as its tissue restructured, dampening their effects.

Its head snapped toward the nearest railgun emplacement, and Steelback’s blood ran cold. 

The flesh along its back split apart, and something new emerged—spines, barbed and elongated, crackling with unstable energy. They shot forward with terrifying precision, spearing through bunkers and tearing apart men and machinery alike. Blood misted the air, and the remaining mercenaries scrambled to reposition. 

It moved. 

Faster than before. 

It closed the distance in an instant, its form shifting mid-motion—one moment a towering mass of muscle, the next a flurry of razor-sharp appendages slicing through reinforced armor like paper. 

Steelback cursed. “Fall back! Regroup at—” 

It was already on him. 

The world spun as Steelback was hurled through the air, slamming into a wrecked vehicle. His armor absorbed the impact, but his limbs screamed in protest. He rolled to his feet, servos whining, and raised his gauntlet-mounted plasma cutter— 

It watched him. 

Not attacking. Watching. 

Steelback’s breath came fast, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t dead yet—that meant something. 

The monster’s form twisted again, flesh folding over itself, something new taking shape from the mass. A shape he recognized. 

His own armor. Copied. 

His stomach dropped. 

It spoke. 

Not words. Not language. Just a mockery of a voice. 

“Stronger now.” 

Then it struck. 

Steelback raised his arm to block—too slow. 

The impact caved in his defenses, shockwaves rippling through his frame. His HUD flickered, systems struggling to keep up as clawed appendages wrapped around his torso. 

“Consume.” 

Steelback screamed. 

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—his body wasn’t just being crushed. It was being absorbed. His flesh, his armor, his technology—all unraveling, pulled into the shifting horror that was the thing. 

His vision darkened. 

His last thought wasn’t of failure. 

It was of terror. 

Because he could feel what the thing was taking from him. 

And he knew what the monster would do next. 

. . . . .

The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the faint hiss of cooling metal and the whisper of wind over sand. Nothing remained of Steelback’s forces except twisted wreckage and torn bodies. 

No. 9 stood amidst the ruin, changed. Its form was sleeker now, its shifting flesh reinforced with new layers of armor—plates and structures that did not dissolve but adapted on command. A single appendage unfurled, growing something new. 

A construct. A biological machine. 

It twitched. Moved. Obeyed. 

Its ember-like eye burned bright. 

It had learned. 

But it still needed more.