The transparent elevator descended steadily into the lightless depths of the Atlantic. Tyler pressed his forehead against the reinforced glass. In his previous life, the sheer scale of the ocean would have triggered his bathophobia, but now? He'd stared down the warlord of the galaxy.
"It's not even half as terrifying as Vilgax," Tyler muttered, unimpressed by the crushing pressure outside.
Max, however, didn't share his confidence. "Donovan, building an underwater resort in the heart of the Bermuda Triangle is a death wish. The security here isn't just a challenge; it's a target."
Donovan Smith leaned back, a smug composure on his face. "Mark, I'm a businessman! Risk is just another word for profit. I've bet on the impossible my whole life, and look at me—I'm the richest man on the coast!"
Max sighed heavily. "Tyler, the land is chaotic enough, but the deep sea? That's where the Plumber Council loses its reach. There are things down here—ancient aliens and mechanical monsters—that have never seen the sun."
Tyler felt a chill. The ocean wasn't just water; it was an unmapped battlefield.
The elevator doors hissed open, revealing a futuristic resort encased in high-tensile glass. It was a marvel of engineering, but the wonder was cut short by a piercing, crimson alarm. The lights flickered, and through the glass, they saw a maintenance diver lose control of his thrusters, crashing into a support pylon.
"A malfunction in the electromagnetic pulse," Donovan said, his voice tense but practiced. This wasn't the first time.
Outside, the scent of blood or the hum of failing tech had drawn them: Sharks. Great Whites, circling the immobile diver with predatory intent.
"Grandpa Donovan, he's going to get killed!" Tyler shouted.
"If he dies, it'll set the resort schedule back weeks!" Donovan paced, his concern more for his bottom line than the man's life.
Edwin, meanwhile, tugged at Tyler's sleeve. "Hey, forget that loser. Let's talk more about your Rogue Predator watch—"
"Not now!" Tyler snapped, brushing him off. He huddled with Ben and Gwen. Ben was ready to transform, but Tyler stepped forward. "This is a deep-sea environment. I've got a specialist for this."
Tyler strode toward the airlock. As he passed Edwin, he looked the boy in the eye. "One more thing... the Rogue Predator isn't 'evil.' He's just the only one doing what's necessary."
Tyler entered the airlock and was flushed into the crushing cold of the Atlantic.
Outside the glass, a blur of red light cut through the dark water. The sharks lunged at the diver, but a massive, pale fist intercepted the lead predator, shattering its jaw and sending it tumbling into the abyss.
"What... what is that thing?!" Donovan stammered, staring at the monitors.
"It's him!" Edwin cheered, his fanboy heart racing. "The Rogue Predator!"
The diver looked up, expecting a rescue, but instead saw a nightmare. Standing before him was The Trench-Mauler. It was a towering, ghastly white merman with a glowing lure protruding from its head. Its jaw was a jagged mess of rows of serrated teeth, with two lower fangs elongated like a prehistoric saber-tooth.
"Don't scream," Tyler's voice gargled through the water. "I'm a mermaid. Sort of."
The diver took one look at the fangs and promptly fainted.
Tyler rolled his eyes, slung the man over his shoulder, and used his powerful, muscled tail to rocket back to the airlock. He shoved the diver inside and sealed the outer hatch.
The remaining sharks, driven into a frenzy, closed in on Tyler. He didn't swim away. His jaw unhinged, revealing a throat that looked like a meat grinder. In a flash of kinetic motion, he tore through the water. One bite severed a shark's skull; another sweep of his claws sent the rest fleeing in terror.
Tyler reached for the resort's entry gate, but it didn't budge. It was locked from the inside.
Inside, Donovan stood with his hand over the override. "Mark, are you crazy?! I'm not letting that thing in here! What if it's one of those mechanical squids in disguise?"
"Donovan, open that door!" Max roared, stepping forward.
Outside, the red light flared again. A massive, ghastly shadow phased through the reinforced glass as if it weren't there. The Void-Wraith materialized in the lounge, the temperature dropping instantly to sub-zero levels.
"Tch. Fanboy my foot," Tyler hissed, glancing at the trembling Edwin before looming over Donovan. "Why was the door locked? Were you trying to drown your rescue?"
"I... I can pay you! Just stay as my bodyguard!" Donovan stammered.
Tyler's purple eye flared. He didn't want money. He used a mental pulse to pull the truth from Donovan's mind.
"The mechanical squids," Tyler whispered, pulling out of the illusion. "You stole their energy source—a purple power core—to run your resort. You didn't just build here; you robbed them."
Before Donovan could defend himself, the resort groaned. The red alarms intensified, and a massive metal tentacle slammed against the glass lounge.
New Transformation Log
The Trench-Mauler (Ripjaws Variant)
Traits: A ghastly, translucent-white merman with hyper-evolved arm muscles and a prehensile tail. Its "headlight" lure emits a specialized frequency that dazes sea creatures.Ability: Megalodon Crush. Its jaw pressure is high enough to bite through the hull of a submarine. It possesses retractable, saber-tooth fangs that inject a paralytic neurotoxin.Passive: Pressure Mastery. Its body is perfectly adapted for the deepest trenches of the ocean, making it faster and stronger the deeper it goes.
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