{Welcome back to Roadkill Nightmares with me, Gorlom Sheepsay!

In today’s episode, our roadkill of the day is this beautiful Model Six. It’s got the perfect amount of meat on it, and I know we’re just in for a treat.

Let’s see what our chefs come up with.}

*Twenty minutes later*

{DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK YOU DONKEY? IT’S FUCKING RAW!!!}

*Incoherent screeching* *Audience screaming*

--A cut episode of popular show Roadkill Nightmares, on the Prolotor Active Wavecast, channel #58.

“So, how do I control my R.A.B.I.Es?” I ask Cyon as I chew through the rest of the food tray.

Don’t judge me! Mum and Dad taught us not to waste food!

You should be able to control it like another muscle after some practice and, if you want, we can use dream learning to speed up the process. But, until then, as I’ve mentioned before, your D.E.N implant will act as a crutch to help you control your esoteric organs.

A window pops up in my vision, showing me DogEater K1 is currently being produced, and my incubator is half full.

“Got it.”

I blink away the control panel and turn my attention down to my stomach, which doesn’t hurt any more. That would make sense if I was just hungry since I ate, but I’m pretty sure I took several claws to the gut earlier.

I tap my belly and Sim gets the message, peeling apart the thin black bodysuit clinging to my upper half and revealing my… yep, still a six-pack. Nice.

The pale skin covering my new muscles is marred by a few raised scabs, but they look weeks old, and they barely feel any different from the surrounding skin as I poke them.

“That’s weird.”

Your healing has been improved by several of your upgrades so far. Flesh wounds like those should heal on their own as long as you eat enough. The scabs will be gone completely within another ten minutes, but they will probably leave small scars. I have a few options available if you would like to remove them and prevent future scaring.

I consider it for a few moments, staring down at the small red bumps surrounded by clean, unmarked skin.

“I don’t think I mind a few scars,” I say quietly, moving my hand away and letting Sim cover me as the room shakes again.

[{We’re here!}] Chip happily announces, making my ears perk up.

I hop out of the Squish and head straight through the door, being met by the crack of the railgun the moment it opens to let me out. My head snaps to the front of the lorry, where I see the large, walled-in compound of the White Rhinos.

The big front gate is hanging open, and there are several dead Threes and Fours lying there with their heads blown off thanks to the turrets on top of my lorry.

I also immediately spot a green smear across the front of the lorry, but I tactfully choose to ignore it as Chip and Spot tumble out of the drivers cab with giddy grins on their faces.

{Good job,} I squeak, crouching down and patting them both on the head. {I’d like one volunteer to watch the lab please.}

My brothers go rigid, both looking away and attempting to whistle inconspicuously despite their long snouts making that very hard. While they’re putting on the performance of a lifetime, Stripe lets out a chiding coo and hops off my shoulder.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

{I’ll do it,} she squeaks, clambering up the side of the lorry towards one of the railguns.

{Thanks!} I call after her, giving Chip and Spot one last scritch before standing up.

“Could I buy Stripe a Nutri Pack please?”

Certainly.

My point counter ticks down by one as Chip and Spot but look up at me expectantly.

“So, you understand this now?” I ask with a raised brow, watching both of them look away and attempt to whistle again.

I roll my eyes and walk past them, heading towards the compound’s open gates.

“Stay behind me,” I call over my shoulder as they scramble to catch up, lowering my centre of mass and starting a slow jog towards the building.

Well, slow for my new body.

I clear the distance to the gate as fast as a normal person would sprint it and spring over the corpses blocking my way, popping my claws through Sim and running them through the cold flesh beneath me without meeting any resistance. My claws leave satisfying, caustic purple gashes behind, ruining the corpses for the Antithesis, just in case.

A couple of Threes race out of the blocky main building’s open front door when I get close, but two quick slashes open their gullets, ending their lives quickly. A small grin creeps its way up my cheeks as I revel in the deadly efficiency of my new digits, but I slow my charge and hold back my excitement when my eyes scan the building’s face, noting half a dozen windows shattered and barricaded to form makeshift shooting windows.

Empty shooting windows.

My feet slide to a complete halt, and I hold my hand out, gesturing for my brothers to stop as well. The moment they do, I focus on my hearing, twitching my sensitive ears and listening to the unsettling stillness surrounding us.

A few moments later, the quiet is shattered by the hiss of the railgun firing behind me.

“It sounds like you might be right. I don’t think anything good’s still alive in there…”

Be careful. There is a high likelihood of Antithesis activity despite that.

“I’m always careful!” I say with a chuckle, pushing Sim to cover my head and dropping into a silent approach.

I flex my hands, feeling every twitch of the powerful tendons inside, and lick my lips, letting my fangs extend to their full, savage glory.

I think I could get addicted to these mutations.

I silently slip through the front door, Chip and Spot hot on my heels, but my eyes widen at the sight on the other side.

The long entrance hallway was clearly set up for a fierce defensive, with several heavy metal barricades deployed for cover and two hefty, mounted turrets hanging from the ceiling at the far end. However, the only signs of the men and women who were manning the defences are the crimson splatters covering them.

The turrets don’t look functional either, their long barrels bent, and their armour plating torn to shreds by claws.

Brutal.

I continue forward, scanning for aliens as I pass, with a slight frown creasing my brow.

I won’t claim to like most of the gangs around here, but I still don’t think they should all be butchered or anything. How can you steal from gangers if there are no gangers around!

I mean… actually, no, I stand by that statement. What was it Cyon called it again? Playing into my theme?

My arm whips out, plunging my hand down to the wrist in a step stool positioned behind one of the barricades. It writhes for a moment, losing its well-kept façade in its last moments before going limp.

Several objects ahead of me distort suddenly, breaking their camouflage before I even got to them.

“Why aren’t they waiting for me like they normally do?”

…

“What?”

I leap forward, slashing my claws through one Nine’s midsection, cleaving it in half in one go before pouncing on another, grabbing hold of it and sinking my teeth into it, ripping a large chunk from the plant and chewing as I turn to face the others.

They are semi-intelligent lifeforms. Once they have determined that their camouflage is completely ineffective, they won’t just wait for death.

I plunge my arm into another Nine and hoist it up before me as a needler flies past. I glance back at Spot peeking out from behind a reinforced metal plate and giving me a thumbs up as the grenade goes off, filling the remaining xenos with DogEater.

I return the little guy’s thumbs up before dropping the dead Nine and swallowing.

“A BLT you’re wondering.”

What?

“Nothing.”

…

{Egg BLT,} Chip squeaks behind me.

I look back and see him chewing on a small green limb from the dead alien beside him.

“Agree to disagree.”

I set off again, falling back into a silent stride despite the plants almost certainly knowing I’m coming at this point.

‘Cyon, where should I be going?’

I was wondering if you’d ask.

I push open the door at the end of the hallway as a faint arrow forms above my head, pointing me onwards. Thanks to looking up at the arrow, the second I step through the door I notice the Four lying in wait.

I spring back, avoiding a sudden flood of tentacles before lashing out and severing most of them from the body above. I wait for a few seconds, and the plant drops to the floor in front of me defenceless.

I step past the dying Four, leaving DogEater to do its work and heading deeper into the stronghold. We ignore most of the side rooms as we go, killing the aliens that come from them but not bothering to look in, and eventually we end up at the entrance to a set of stairs descending into the foundation below the building, surrounded by blood stains but without bodies.

Well, other than the dead plants we just added.

“What’s down here?” I ask, chewing on a Three’s leg.

The incursion bunker.

“Any chance everyone is safely hidden inside?”

…

I toss away my snack and take a deep breath.

“Only one way to find out...”