Mr. Johnson’s gaze fixed on Anderson, who stood trembling ever so slightly. The finger ring on Anderson’s hand gleamed ominously under the hangar's harsh lights.
“Your turn, Anderson,” Johnson instructed, his voice slick with unsettling calm.
Anderson took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he gripped the ring and turned it one full rotation. The moment the ring clicked into place, Anderson’s body spasmed violently. His form began to stretch and contort in ways that defied the natural order. His skin stretched like taffy, ligaments snapped only to reattach in bizarre configurations, and bones cracked, their shards rearranging in a cacophonous symphony of transformation.
“God, help me!” Anderson managed to scream before his voice was swallowed up by the grotesque metamorphosis.
Before the platoon's widening eyes, Anderson’s body swelled and reshaped itself. His arms elongated and thickened, becoming the axles and driveshaft of a growing structure. Rubber tires pushed through his flesh, his chest expanded grotesquely into a hood, and his face disappeared under layers of transforming tissue that hardened into the smooth metal of a vehicle. The entire process was punctuated by visceral tearing sounds and wet, unsettling squelches.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of horrors, a fully-functional SUV stood where Anderson had once been. The vehicle gleamed under the hangar's lighting, disturbingly pristine despite the abominable way it had come to be. Anderson's consciousness had not simply been obliterated; it had merged seamlessly with the SUV’s digital systems. He could feel the purr of the engine like a pulse and sense every inch of the metal body that was now his.
Mr. Johnson strode over to the SUV and patted its hood. “I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Why an SUV?’ It’s simple. These rings don’t just make you inconspicuous; they also provide transportation for the team. You see, Anderson is now not just a vehicle, but the perfect covert transport—unremarkable and efficient.”
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, digesting the horrific yet practical implications. Johnson opened the driver’s door, revealing a fully outfitted interior. “Anderson, can you hear me?” he inquired, though his tone was more of an expectation than a question.
The vehicle's infotainment system blinked, and a GPS voice echoed Anderson’s compliance. “Affirmative, sir.”
“You still have your mind in there, Anderson?” queried Sergeant Muscry, his voice cracking slightly with discomfort and amazement.
“Yes, sir. I am... aware,” the voice replied, echoing through the SUV’s speakers. Anderson processed the words, his digital mind adapting to the new form.
Johnson nodded. “Glad to hear it. Now, men, it’s essential that you understand the capabilities of these transformations. Anderson here can communicate, navigate, and ensure swift, undetectable transport.”
Johnson closed the door and tapped the SUV’s roof as if it were Anderson’s shoulder. “We need to test him in action. Anderson, take us on a lap around the hangar.”
The engine roared to life with a guttural growl. Anderson's SUV form circled the hangar smoothly, demonstrating agile maneuvering and remarkable speed. Johnson smiled approvingly. “Excellent. This integration is both flawless and effective.”
He signaled for Anderson to stop and addressed the soldiers, “Note that the rings used to make these transformations are not just tools—they are lifelines. Misplace one, and we risk losing a soldier forever. Understand the gravity of this technology.”
The platoon’s faces, though filled with unease, nodded in reluctant agreement. Anderson’s SUV form idled quietly, the hum of the engine a faint reminder of the man he once was, and still is, in this altered existence.
“Get ready, men,” Muscry barked, shaking off the unease. “You’ve seen the capabilities of this tech. Use it wisely, and remember—we’re soldiers first, no matter what form we take.”