The morphus dashed from side to side, dodging the energy bolts he fired while gradually closing the distance to him. The mutant was annoyingly agile! Suddenly, it leaped high into the air. Just as Miller tracked his opponent with his energy cannon, the morphus unleashed its grappling hook.
It zipped through the air toward him and half a second later, latched onto his weapon. The morphus landed nearby and imdiately yanked the cord toward itself. The force of the pull surprised Miller greatly. He had to put one foot forward to prevent his ch from toppling. He pulled back the arm, to which the energy cannon was connected, but the mutant’s grappling hook held firm.
The morphus yanked back on the cord again, seemingly with even greater force than before. This ti, with a creak of tortured tal, the energy cannon was ripped from its mount on the ch’s arm. The force of the pull almost made Miller lose his footing. The mutant retracted its grappling hook, morphing it back into a human-like hand.
Miller tried to power up the chainsaw attached to his ch’s other arm, but it refused to start. Shreds of the cinch net were still lodged inside the chanism, jamming it and preventing the weapon from functioning. With it no longer operational, Miller commanded it to be detached. With a loud thud, the chainsaw dropped to the floor.
For a mont, the pitch-black mutant and the human clad in the ch suit stared at each other. Several ters of ground separated them. Miller stood still while the morphus crouched low, palms resting on the floor in front of it. Although the ch was much larger than the mutant, Miller’s opponent proved exceptionally powerful as well.
He had lost both his main weapons: the energy cannon and the chainsaw. However, thanks to the recent upgrades he made to his ch, he now had a couple of other weapons at his disposal. It was ti to put them to good use.
Miller deployed a small machine gun turret, which erged from a hidden compartnt in one of the ch’s shoulders. The turret was small but quite powerful. It might not kill the morphus, but if it could stagger it montarily, that might give Miller a chance to get close enough for a fatal strike.
His ch’s shoulder-mounted turret opened fire, unleashing a stream of high-powered rounds that zipped toward the morphus. To his great surprise, the mutant jumped to its feet and darted aside just before he fired. It seed as if the creature had sohow predicted his move.
The mutant didn’t seem at all surprised by the reveal of his shoulder-mounted turret. Although its grotesque face lacked the ability to convey emotions, Miller had expected so form of surprise—maybe a slight widening of its eyes, at the very least. That never happened, though. It felt as if the mutant already knew about the turret before Miller deployed it.
How could this be possible? Could the morphus predict imdiate events? Or perhaps it could sohow read minds?
There was no ti to dwell on it any longer, as the morphus suddenly stopped dodging the bullets and charged straight at him. Now that it wasn’t evading fire, the rounds hamred into its chest, exploding upon impact. However, they failed to pierce its body. They chipped away at its armor, sending small fragnts flying, but that was the extent of the damage inflicted by his weapon.
Bellowing in rage and frustration, Miller popped his ch’s arm blades, the second and final upgrade he had implented. He charged toward the quickly approaching mutant. As he closed in, he swung his right arm blade, aiming directly at the creature.
However, Miller could already see that his ch was no match for the mutant’s speed. The mutant easily dodged the blow and swung one of its colossal fists at his own. To Miller’s shock, an explosion erupted on impact, shattering his right blade in two. Sparks cascaded from his ch’s glove, and he realized he could no longer move his fingers. The mutant’s explosive punch had severely crippled his ch’s right hand, rendering it completely useless.
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Roaring in rage, Miller swung his remaining blade at the morphus. The mutant easily dodged the attack and swiftly delivered a powerful punch to the center of his ch. This ti, no explosion erupted, but the blow was strong enough to dent his armor and inflict internal damage. Warning lights flashed on his HUD, but he ignored them. He aid his shoulder-mounted turret at the morphus, but the creature instantaneously dashed around his ch, positioning itself behind him.
His ch was significantly slower than the mutant, and before he could turn around, the creature climbed onto his back, hamring his helt with one of its fists. Miller struggled to dislodge the creature; he couldn’t reach it due to the awkward angle. Thinking quickly, he slamd his ch backward into the corridor’s wall, hoping to crush the mutant against the hard surface.
The pounding against his helt ceased, and for a mont, he thought his plan had worked. But in the next instant, he realized he was wrong. A drill pierced into the side of his ch’s neck, boring a large hole. What the fuck?! How could the morphus transform its arms into chainsaws, grappling hooks, and drills? What kind of creature was it?!
There was no ti to think about it, though. He stepped forward and then imdiately slamd his back into the wall again. However, the mutant was still alive and kicking. He ground the creature clinging to his back against the stone wall, but that didn’t do the trick either.
Suddenly, the drilling stopped, and the drill withdrew from the hole it had created. Almost imdiately after that, Miller felt several slender, long tentacles slither their way inside his ch! They moved into the helt and wrapped themselves around his throat. He fought for breath as his eyes bulged. The tentacles twisted tighter and tighter around his throat. As the world before him began to fade, Miller stepped away from the wall, trying to grab the mutant with his left hand, but he couldn’t quite reach it.
Suddenly, he rembered the shoulder-mounted turret. Sweeping it around, he opened fire on the mutant’s head. That did the trick. The tentacles released their grip on his neck and slid out of the helt. He felt the mutant detach from his ch and turned to face his opponent.
He saw several long tentacles extending from the mutant’s back. He also noticed so pockmarks on the side of its head where the bullets had struck. However, those pockmarks were quite small. It appeared that the damage to the morphus was only costic. And they were already regenerating before his eyes! Miller could hardly believe what he was seeing. The morphus didn’t just seem unkillable; it appeared not even damageable!
Suddenly, the tentacles detached from its body and fell to the floor, where they shriveled and turned to dust. Miller swung his ch’s shoulder-mounted turret around, but before he could fire, the morphus launched an acid glob from its mouth. The corrosive substance struck the turret, eating through it and rendering it completely inoperable.
The morphus leaped and slamd into the front of his ch. The mutant grabbed his left arm and pulled. Servomotors whined and howled but were unable to overco the supernatural strength of the pull. With a cacophony of squealing tal, the morphus wrenched the arm free from the ch. Miller scread as his own arm ca off with it, blood pouring from his torn shoulder.
Out of his mind from pain and horror, Miller hamred his other hand against the mutant’s back. However, the right glove of his ch was damaged, preventing it from forming a fist. He kept smacking his open glove against the mutant’s body but hardly dealt any damage. The morphus didn’t even pay attention to the futile blows.
The morphus then placed both hands on either side of Miller’s helt and pressed. The tal creaked and groaned as it bent inward, pressing against the sides of his head. Miller scread in sheer horror as he felt his head being compressed. As the pressure continued, his head yielded further, eyes popping inside their sockets, blood streaming from every orifice of his head: eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Then, the inevitable climax arrived—there was a sudden, deafening pop as Miller’s skull imploded, giving in completely to the unyielding pressure. An explosion of red pulp and brain matter erupted outward, coating the interior of the flattened helt with the gory ss.
Miller’s life ca to an end. His death was relatively quick, about thirty seconds. On the other hand, for soone who felt their skull slowly crushing and the brain matter compressing, thirty seconds felt like a lifeti.
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