Faint sparks flickered across Zara Blade's workshop as a bio‑printer finished its midnight job. A single bullet sat in the build chamber, casing translucent, the core a pulsing strand of violet tissue harvested from Jack Wilson's newest elastic cells.
Zara plucked it with tweezers. "Voilà—Catalyst Round number one. If my math is right, it'll force‑flash the sigil to copy whatever material it hits."
Jack lounged nearby on a crate of spare drones, rubber legs dangling. "So I shoot myself, get a shiny new skin, and we skip weeks of painful absorption? Efficient."
Patch fluffed indignantly from a perch. "Also deranged."
Lyra crossed her arms. "Jack, there are safer ways to unlock powers—like not loading yourself into a gun."
Reina Takahashi stepped in, toweling sweat from a predawn training run. "What did I miss?"
Jack hopped up, elastic tendons twanging. "Science project. Need a witness."
Before anyone could protest, he chambered the Catalyst Round into Zara's custom flechette pistol, placed the muzzle against his left forearm, and squeezed.
Thud. The bullet plunged into flesh—then liquefied, sigil vectors blooming outward like cracked glass.
Jack grimaced as his skin rippled, hardening into dark basalt. Veins vanished under stony plates; fingertips sharpened into rough claws.
Lyra swore. Patch squawked, "He's turning into a gargoyle!"
Jack flexed, the motion grinding like shifting gravel. "Heavy… but solid." He rapped knuckles against his forearm—dull rock clack. "Material Mimicry: activated."
Zara's eyes shone behind visor glasses. "Duration five minutes; calorie drain exponential. Move before you faint."
---
Trial by Fist
Reina cracked her knuckles. "Spar. Now."
Jack's basalt grin widened. "Thought you'd never ask."
Reina lunged, heel whipping toward Jack's stone ribs. The impact rang like a gong—Reina winced, shaking her foot. Jack barely budged.
He countered with a granite‑powered punch; Reina slipped aside, momentum cratering the concrete floor instead. Dust snowed through the neon light.
"Strength up," she noted, "but your speed died."
Jack tried an elastic rebound—yet his basalt tendons resisted. He stumbled, weight off‑balance.
Reina exploited the opening, palm‑striking a pressure point behind his stone ear. Jack staggered, vision fracturing; small cracks formed along his shoulder.
Lyra darted forward. "Timer at three minutes!"
Jack rolled his stone neck, fractures knitting slower than usual. "Lesson learned: rock form, rock brain." He exhaled; basalt plates glowed, then crumbed off as skin reverted to flesh. Sweat drenched him, pulse racing like a jackhammer.
Patch tossed him a gallon jug of sugar water. "Drink before you face‑plant."
Jack gulped half the jug. The workshop's ambient hum seemed to fade; a hollow echo lingered in his head—another memory slippage? He gripped the jug tighter.
---
Aftershock & Plans
Zara tapped a holopad. "Side‑effect logged: slowed healing while mimicking heavy material. We can refine the mix, maybe add carbon nanotube strands for lighter density."
Reina wiped dust from her gi. "And drill movement drills. Power without rhythm gets you killed."
Jack flashed a weary thumbs‑up. "We'll schedule lessons. First, food."
Lyra prepared a caloric smoothie laced with electrolytes. "Also, keep track—how many memories did that cost?"
Jack hesitated. "Just… a song lyric. Probably." He forced a smile, but Lyra's worry lingered.
---
Excision Countdown
Meanwhile, on an abandoned freeway outside West Hollow, Asset Ω strode under sodium lights. Each footfall left spiderweb cracks in asphalt. A data slate projected Jack's elastic‑stone hybrid footage.
Dr. Valerie Cross's voice crackled through Ω's comms: "Target displays rapid matter‑adaptation. Recommend nerve‑graft disruptors."
Ω keyed a silent acknowledgment. Dawn's first light painted the skyline blood orange—the same hue etched on the twin blades at Ω's hip.
Hunt protocol commenced.