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The defective lunged in Grey’s direction, smashing into the wall. Concrete cracked and the speaker Grey spoke through shattered.
The mass of black with glowing green eyes made a slow circle. White teeth, red gums, and tongue were the only break in the lightless form, so perfect it practically flattened into two-dimensions.
Until it moved, then it surpassed the third dimension, touching some other place, sliding in and out of a realm no man could see.
The growl it exhaled vibrated the walls.
It had Jonathan’s scent, so staying quiet was no longer an option. “For god’s sake, shoot the fucking thing!”
The defective shuddered, and its right leg thickened. One half of its skull bulged, and its spine twisted.
Jonathan opened himself to the Sarvari, and it spread from his cells, saturating his body, Phasing him from the man into the black wolf.
As a man, Jonathan was slightly above average for a beta. As the Sarvari, he out-massed just about everyone.
But standing before the defective, he might as well have been a delta or omega.
At least he still possessed the precision killing form the defective didn’t. The malformation caused by the failed merger with the VrK was the only advantage Jonathan had.
Another burst of growth shoved the defective to the ground. Patches of coat expanded, pushed outward by bubbling muscle. The skin split and a wash of black ichor gave birth to a mass of exposed bone. A web of flesh covered part of it.
A flap of skin opened, revealing the eye of the man it had torn free from. More lumps covered the half skull, and what might have been nose holes parted just under the orbital socket. The eye searched the room before landing on Jonathan.
Jonathan had seen odd changes, but not like this. The Sarvari beating through his veins didn’t care. It just needed to destroy the abomination.
The Sarvari surged forward, shoving aside Jonathan’s will, consuming his thoughts, and obliterating the reason of a man. He slammed into the defective, latching his bite onto the nape of its neck. But even with teeth capable of chewing steel, it couldn’t penetrate quick enough into the mass of muscle. The defective chomped down on Jonathan’s thigh and tore him loose. He snapped at the defective’s head, missing its muzzle by inches.
It tossed Johnathan aside. He flipped midair, kicking off the concrete, using it to add power to his lunge.
The defective turned toward Matt, giving Jonathan a wide target. He punched through the side of its neck and grabbed its spine.
What were vertebrae in a normal wolf were barbs in the defective. They punctured Jonathan’s paw, severing tendons. He yanked, leaving behind fingers as he snapped the spine at the base of the neck.
The defective’s front legs folded, and Jonathan tore the head free.
Ichor pumped from exposed veins.
The Sarvari withdrew, leaving Jonathan streaked with red and black. Matt coughed and reached for the door. But his arm flopped.
“I’ve got you, man.” Jonathan crouched.
A wall of black fur crushed him to the ground. The headless defective sank its claws into Jonathan’s legs, flaying the muscles from the bone. He twisted the front limb, snapping the pastern, leaving behind the paw impaled in his femur.
Threads of black turned Jonathan’s hands into five-fingered weapons, and he sliced through the other leg. The defective fell to the side, but before the limbs could even bleed, they grew back.
The gaping wound where its head had been also closed.
Teeth broke through the wads of pink flesh first, then a muzzle formed, nostrils opened, a forehead pushed free of the scar tissue.
The goddamned thing regenerated a head. How the fuck was that even possible? If taking its head didn’t kill it, then what the hell would?
He charged, but the defective slapped him into the observation window.
The creature limped on partially formed legs, growing thicker by the moment.
Gashes crisscrossing Jonathan’s lower limbs slowed in their healing. Exhaustion pulled at his body and clouded his mind. He wouldn’t last another round. Already his stomach cramped in need of fuel to draw on. He crawled to one of the discarded chairs. The defective leapt, and Jonathan guarded himself with the piece of furniture, punching the legs through the creature’s chest.
The reforming head extended, pushed by vertebrae as they feathered out, lengthening its neck. Once it completely healed, it wouldn’t even have to strain to reach him.
