The moment Riven stepped into the corridor, the symbiote surged beneath his skin like living liquid. His new body felt alien but instinctive, muscles coiled with predatory power. His massive, clawed feet thudded against the floor, his tail twitching in anticipation as the sounds of approaching boots filled the air.
Facility Theta’s security had found him.
A squad of three men rounded the corner, weapons raised. Their tactical gear gleamed under the flickering fluorescent lights. The lead officer’s helmet-mounted flashlight locked onto Riven’s towering frame.
“*Jesus Christ—OPEN FIRE!*”
The hallway erupted in muzzle flashes.
Riven moved before he thought. The symbiote responded to his will, shifting, twisting—*expanding.* His body pulsed as tendrils of black-gold latex surged outward, absorbing the first hail of bullets like thickened tar. The impact stung but did no real damage. His new flesh wasn’t just armor—it was alive. Adaptive.
**We are beyond them.**
The voice slithered through his mind again, and this time, Riven welcomed it.
His arms morphed—his right hand splitting into whiplike tendrils, his left forming a curved, obsidian blade. He lunged, faster than they expected. His arm lashed forward, the symbiote stretching, elongating, slamming into the nearest soldier. The impact sent the man flying into the steel wall with a sickening crunch.
Panic spread through the squad. “*Fall back! Fall—*”
Riven’s left blade swept through the air, severing a rifle in half. His massive clawed foot crushed another beneath him as he advanced.
**They are weak. Assimilate.**
The thought made him pause. Assimilate?
Before he could question it, the symbiote acted. The black-gold mass at his feet surged forward, tendrils shooting toward a downed soldier. The man barely had time to scream before the living latex engulfed him, seeping into his armor, his skin. He convulsed, eyes rolling back as his flesh darkened, reshaping—his body stretching, bulking, his mouth elongating into fangs.
His scream became a roar.
Riven stared as the soldier rose, now standing at least seven feet tall, his body slick and leonine like Riven’s own—but less refined, more feral. His glowing amber eyes locked onto Riven’s, awaiting orders.
Something deep inside him—*inside them*—thrummed with satisfaction.
**We are not alone.**
The remaining guards turned and ran.
Riven exhaled, his muscles shifting back to their default shape, his claws retracting. He flexed his fingers, watching how the latex shimmered over his knuckles, rippling with unreadable potential.
He could shape it. Spread it. Infect with it.
He wasn’t just the symbiote’s host.
He was its progenitor.
And now, he had a partner. A pride.