The gurgling sounds intensify. A wet tearing noise. The bio-signature blares inside Vael's helmet, a wave of data. Darkness in the ruin shifts. Not just shadows. Something moves, fast.
The floor splits. Not concrete, but hardened bio-mass, it ruptures. Small, segmented forms spill out, black and slick. Larvae. Dozens. They writhe, antennae twitching. A high-pitched chittering fills the air. It overrides comms static. The hidden bio-signature makes sense now. Not one creature. A nest.
Vael's boot hits something soft. It is a civilian. A body. Limp. Too late. The larvae swarm over it. Tiny legs dig in. The skin puckers. "Move," Vael barks, his voice a flat digital echo through his suit.
His neural crown pulses. A cold map forms in his mind. Squadmates' positions. Threats. Projected vectors of the larvae. He sees Pilot Jax, Specialist Zara Kim, and the squad leader. All surrounded. Civilian forms scatter, some screaming, some frozen.
A civilian, a woman, stumbles, falls. A larva leaps. It latches onto her arm, drills. Her scream chokes off. Her body twitches, then starts to convulse. A sickening stretch under her skin. Her humanity drains away. This is not dying. This is becoming.
Zara Kim moves like a blur. Her Culex suit is a flash of aerodynamic plating. She cuts through the swarming larvae with her wing-blades. Her movements are precise, brutal. A dozen larvae split, squashed against the ruined concrete. She is a storm of razor-edged vengeance. She pulls a civilian clear. The man coughs, covered in slime.
"Nestwretch gorebreed," Vael states, a dry thought. It matches the intel. The pervasive threat they sensed. It reveals itself.
The ground trembles. A wall behind them cracks. The main source. The Nestwretch gorebreed. It pulls itself free from the earth. Eleven feet of bloated, female-shaped horror. Its belly, distended and transparent, pulses with hundreds of writhing larvae. Its mouth stretches vertically, a black slit filled with fangs. Extra arms sprout from its hips, cradling more wriggling infants. Slime drips from its body, sizzling.
The Nestwretch gorebreed screams. Not a human sound. A wet, guttural shriek that rattles Vael's suit internal systems. More larvae erupt from its body. They hit the ground running. Not just from its belly. From its back, its arms. Everywhere. They are spawned into the shelter, swarming. "Contain the spawn," the squad leader's voice cuts through. "Concentrate fire on the main body."
Vael's suit locks onto the Nestwretch gorebreed. Its armor is thick. His suit's analysis flashes. Weak points. Joints. The distended belly. A tactical vulnerability. His neural crown thrums harder. A ridge forms under his helm, a subtle pressure. He feels a strange connection. Not just a map. A faint pulse. He sees Zara's bio-signature, a flicker of light under her suit. Her heart rate. Her suit's energy levels. An intrusive, terrifying knowledge.
A civilian, a young man, tries to run. Three larvae hit him at once. They burrow into his neck, his chest. He falls. His body arches, contorts. His skin bubbles, splits. His uniform stretches, tearing as something pushes from within. A new growth, already grotesque. Another civilian, a woman, clutches her stomach. She retches. A larva bursts from her mouth. Her eyes roll back. Dead. Transformed. Fifteen civilians. This is how it happens. One by one. Brutal efficiency.
"Zara, flank right. Cover the exit. Jax, heavy fire on Nestwretch limbs," Vael orders. His voice is flat, devoid of emotion. The words come without thought, instinctively. His suit moves before he processes the command. Gravemind neural crown activates. Group command protocols engage. The words are not his. They are the suit's. His cold, predatory focus takes over.
Zara Kim is already moving. Her blades hum. She slices through three larvae, moving towards the marked exit. But a civilian screams. A large piece of the ceiling collapses, dust and debris filling the air. Zara spins. Her wing-damage trauma makes her hesitate. A fraction of a second too long. Her suit tries to compensate, but the weight of the debris is too much. She is caught, half-buried. A Nestwretch larva, larger than the others, crawls towards her, its pincers clicking.
Vael sees it. The data stream shows her suit's integrity failing, her bio-signature blinking red. She is a liability. But also an asset. He could leave her. Focus on the Nestwretch gorebreed. Survival. His own. His cold calculation takes over. No, she is faster than Jax. She can still clear the exit.
A foreign consciousness. A face, distorted, screaming in a cold void. A suit. Crushed. A sound, like tearing metal. The suit's memory. It invades. Not now. Focus.
The phantom pain of the previous pilot's demise flares. The neural crown throbs behind Vael's eyes, a low thrum.
"Zara, boost. Now," Vael transmits. His suit's internal systems pulse a command directly into her comms. It is a forced tactical thought, overriding her own panicked processing.
She recoils, her suit jerking. She uses her thrusters, spraying debris, clearing herself just as the larva lunges. It hits the ground where she was, burrowing. She is free. Her movements are ragged, but she is clear. Asset secured.
The Nestwretch gorebreed is not just mindlessly spawning. It targets. Exposed individuals. People huddled in corners. Children. Their screams are wet, gurgling as larvae erupt from their bodies. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sour scent of ruptured flesh. Vael's suit registers the total death toll. Nine. Then ten. The Nestwretch gorebreed is efficient. Relentless.
"Fire, Jax, fire!" Vael commands. His voice is flat, almost mechanical.
Pilot Jax, a hulking Ravelin pilot, lays down suppressing fire. His suit, built for defense, is slow. But his kinetic dampeners push back the swarm, creating a momentary buffer. He is a shield. Effective. But slow.
The Nestwretch gorebreed begins to rupture. Not just spawn. Its own tissue tears. It is a living, walking birthing chamber. Larvae pour out like water. They hit the ground running. Not just from its belly. From its back, its arms. Everywhere. They are small, but their numbers are overwhelming. They are already forming a carpet over the ground. Crawling over bodies. Over rubble. Over dying civilians. The sounds of cracking bone and wet meat fill the air.
Vael moves. He uses his Gravemind suit's speed, not its raw power. Precision. He targets the spawning pockets on the Nestwretch gorebreed. A bio-knife extends from his forearm. He slashes. Black fluid sprays. The larvae squirm. He does not stop. He does not feel the revulsion. Only the tactical necessity.
The suit's internal systems surge. His neural crown visibly expands under the helm. A pronounced ridge. He feels a pressure, not pain, but a physical expansion. He can see it. His suit is changing. His perception expands. He sees the flow of larvae through the Nestwretch gorebreed. Its blood vessels. Its internal organs. Its bio-signature pulsing. He sees Zara's internal bio-signature. Her lungs expanding. Her heart beating. He sees Jax's, slower, more stable. It is unnerving. A terrifying glimpse beyond the external.
"We are losing too many," the squad leader yells. His voice is tight. "Fall back. Secure the perimeter. Abandon the remaining civilians. They are compromised."
Vael freezes. Not his command. Not his choice. The civilians are still alive. Some of them. Barely. But still breathing.
"Orders," the squad leader presses. "Protocol dictates containment over rescue."
A cold wave washes over Vael. Disposable test subject. The phrase echoes. He remembers it. The training instructor. A chilling casualness to human life. It mirrors now. The squad leader's words are clear. This is not about protection. This is about cutting losses. A moral compromise. It settles in Vael's gut. Not his pain. But a different kind of pressure.
The Nestwretch gorebreed lets out another shriek. It rears back, its massive, distended belly pulsing. It is preparing another wave.
"Hold position, Jax," Vael counters the squad leader. His comms flare. "Zara, clear a path. We neutralize the threat here."
The squad leader curses. "GRAVEMIND-7, that's a direct violation."
"Compromise is death," Vael states. A dry thought. It is the suit speaking. Not him. This situation is too critical. His cold, predatory focus dictates this.
Vael unleashes a barrage of suit-activated bioweapons. His arm cannons fire. Explosions rip through the larvae. He aims for the Nestwretch gorebreed's limbs, trying to hobble it. Zara, now free, moves with renewed, desperate ferocity, her Culex suit's blades flashing. She targets the larvae swarming over the remaining survivors. Her movements are almost frantic, a contrast to Vael's chilling calm. She pulls one last civilian clear, a small child, pushes them towards Jax.
The Nestwretch gorebreed screams again, wounded, enraged. It pulls itself free from the earth where it was embedded. Its internal larvae sac shrivels. It has exhausted its immediate spawn. Its grotesque efficiency used up. It shifts its focus. On them.
It lunges towards Jax. Its fangs snap. Jax raises his kinetic shield. The impact shakes the entire ruin.
Vael sees the moment. The opportunity. The Nestwretch gorebreed is exposed. Its back. The spine. He calculates. One shot. One precise strike. He pushes his suit. Group command protocols fully engaged. He sees Jax's weak point in his shield. He sends a direct neural impulse. "Lower left," he commands. "Three seconds."
Jax falters, his shield dipping. The Nestwretch gorebreed's fangs sink into his shoulder armor. But it is off-center.
Vael moves. His suit rushes forward, a blur. He brings his bio-knife down. A clean strike. Through the Nestwretch gorebreed's spine. A wet crunch. Black fluid gushes.
The Nestwretch gorebreed convulses. It thrashes, screaming. Its multiple arms flail. It collapses. Its body slumps. The grotesque larvae in its belly, now visible through the transparent flesh, are still. Dead. The silence that follows is thick with the scent of blood and bio-matter. Fifteen civilians dead. Their bodies scattered, some still writhing with internal spawn. A grim tally.
"Status," the squad leader demands, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger.
"Threat neutralized," Vael states. His suit systems confirm. Neural crown pulses, calming. The physical ridge under his helm recedes slightly. But the intrusive knowledge of his squadmates' internal bio-signatures remains. A new, unsettling normal.
Jax slumps against a collapsed wall. His suit is dented. He clutches his chest. "I am hit," he groans. "Internal bleed."
Vael's suit scans. No external breach. But his internal bio-signature display flickers. Something wrong. Not a typical wound.
Jax coughs. A wet, hacking sound. He pulls his hand away from his chest. Vael sees it. Small, pulsating growths. Under the skin. Near his sternum. They move. Grow. Rapidly. Nestwretch larvae. Painfully emerging from his skin.
"Contamination," the squad leader shouts. His voice is cold. Immediate. "Pilot Jax is compromised. Containment protocols are active. Abandon him."
Jax looks at them. His eyes, visible through the cracked visor of his helm, are wide with terror. His transformation begins. His body convulses. The growths push harder. His suit groans, tearing.
The squad leader raises his weapon.
Vael watches. The larvae. The emerging forms. The horror. This is the cost. This is the new reality. His mind is cold. Calculating. The moral compromise is a chasm. He sees Jax's bio-signature, accelerating, changing. Becoming something else.
"GRAVEMIND-7, move," the squad leader commands, his weapon locked on Jax. "Now."
Vael does not move. He watches. The pulsating forms. Jax's terror. His own suit throbbing. A deep, unsettling hum. He sees it all. Registers it all. His mind is a fortress. Inside, something shifts. Something breaks. Not physical. Not yet. A protocol. A hidden rule. He watches. He processes. And he feels nothing. Only the cold, dark hum of the evolving suit.