Dawn broke over the highway, and Max was already behind the wheel. Like most old-timers, his sleep was light, and by the time the kids rubbed the sleep from their eyes, the Rustbucket was already pulling into the heart of Washington D.C.
"Morning, sleepyheads," Max said, glancing at the radio with a smile. "I heard there's a massive super-center here that carries everything. Let's go stock up on supplies."
"Finally, real food!" Ben cheered.
The Rustbucket hissed to a halt in front of a sprawling supermarket. Inside, the aisles were packed with the morning rush.
"I'm heading to the camping and hardware section," Max said, already moving toward the back. "You kids go grab what you need. Meet back at the registers in twenty."
Tyler naturally took the lead. As they passed a snack aisle, Ben froze, his eyes locked onto a shelf of crinkly bags. "No way... the limited edition Sumo Slammer promo packs!"
The bags were covered in the iconic wrestler patterns. In this world, the Sumo Slammer IP was king; owning a gold foil card was the ultimate status symbol for any ten-year-old. Just like always, Ben's self-control evaporated. He started frantically checking the bags for the tell-tale weight of a card insert, while Gwen stood by, sighing with practiced disappointment.
Tyler, however, didn't look at the snacks. He stood with his hands in his pockets near the main entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd like a professional bodyguard. Come on, Dr. Animo, he thought. Hurry up and help me farm some progress.
Thump. Thump.
The floor vibrated. A low, heavy rhythm began to shake the shelves. Tyler ducked into a blind spot behind a display of soda crates, his gaze sharp.
CRASH!
One of the supermarket's brick walls didn't just break—it disintegrated. A massive shape, larger than a hippopotamus, surged into the store. It was a North American bullfrog, mutated to the size of a tank, its skin a sickly, glowing green.
Perched atop the beast sat a man with wild, unkempt hair and a makeshift helmet topped with antlers. He pushed up his orange-tinted goggles, a manic grin on his face. "Behold! The future of evolution is here!"
"Giant frog! Run!"
Panic erupted. Carts were abandoned as people scrambled for the exits. Some were too paralyzed with terror to even scream.
"Found you," Tyler whispered. He raised the Carnitrix, dialed it to the silhouette of the wrapped figure, and slammed the core.
A pillar of blood-red light shot toward the ceiling. From within the gore-colored glow, a tall, spindly figure materialized.
"What is that... a Mummy?" Animo stammered, his bravado wavering as the red light faded.
Tyler's new form, Snare-oh, stood nearly eight feet tall. He wore a blood-red crown on his brow, and his eyes—the only things visible between the gaps of his wrappings—were pits of glowing crimson.
"Just a dusty relic!" Animo barked, regaining his footing. "Frog! Tongue-lash! Eat him!"
The giant bullfrog's tongue lanced out like a pink blur. But Tyler didn't move to dodge.
"Heh..." A dry, chilling rasp escaped Tyler's throat.
The bandages across his entire body suddenly unspooled, turning into hundreds of prehensile tentacles. They lashed out, entangling the bullfrog's tongue in mid-air, binding it in a tight, suffocating grip.
The bullfrog let out a muffled croak, thrashing its head to pull back, but the "bandages" held firm. Animo watched, his jaw dropping as Tyler's form began to shift further.
As the bandages unraveled to bind the frog, Tyler's true anatomy was revealed. It wasn't a hollow ghost or a man in a suit.
Beneath the wrappings, Tyler looked like a flayed, raw-muscle humanoid—a creature of exposed nerves and wet, crimson fibers. The "bandages" weren't clothes; they were his externalized, shed skin.
"What... what are you?" Animo's voice broke. His heart hammered against his ribs. The sight of the raw, skinless demon standing before him snapped his sanity. He scrambled backward, falling off his mount and hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The people who hadn't fled yet looked at Tyler's raw-flesh form and promptly fainted, their eyes rolling back in sheer psychological shock.
The monster is real.
Without Animo's commands, the bullfrog went into a blind panic, crashing into aisles and sending shelves toppling toward civilians.
"Time to sleep," Tyler rasped.
The rest of his bandages flew out like a swarm of cobwebs. He performed a "Binding Play," wrapping the massive bullfrog from head to toe until it resembled a giant, green cocoon. He exerted a sudden, crushing force through the bandages, and the beast's limbs went limp. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, unconscious.
"Done," Tyler said, his flesh-red face contorting into what he thought was a reassuring smile as he turned to the survivors. "Everyone okay?"
"Tyler... man," Ben's voice came from the next aisle. He was shaking, refusing to look directly at his friend. "Before you ask if we're okay, maybe look in a mirror. You're... you're literally a walking anatomy poster."
Gwen stood with her back to him, her eyes shut tight. "I'm contemplating my life choices," she whispered.
[Ding! Host has defeated the Mutant Bullfrog. Dr. Animo has fled the scene in a state of psychological collapse. Progress: +1%]
[Template Mastery: 5/100. Critical Node Reached.]
[Unlocking Carnitrix Protocol: Apex Predator Mode!]
Tyler tilted his head, his raw, lidless eyes narrowing. Apex Predator Mode? Sounds like things are about to get a lot more violent.