Brendon sat in the dim glow of his lab, shoulders tight. The Omnitrix pulsed on his wrist like a constant reminder: green, steady, alive. His company's latest prototype hummed nearby, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Everywhere he went, Morpher followed him. The name was on headlines. On lips in cafés. In hashtags he couldn't escape.
He thought of the video from last night — Diamondhead form, standing in the middle of traffic, forcing two cars apart with a shriek of metal. His voice echoing: Go home. This city doesn't need you.
That was supposed to be a private moment. A necessary intervention. Instead, it was viral content.
The Omnitrix chirped. A subtle alert. Warehouse breach.
Brendon froze, then stood. His company's warehouse wasn't just holding materials; it was where he stored prototypes too advanced for public eyes. If Hammer's people got even a glimpse—
He slammed the dial. The faceplate spun, icons blurring, until it locked with a sharp clack.
Green fire erupted. His body shifted, fur bristling, claws lengthening. Wildmutt's primal senses flared, drowning him in scent and sound.
He ran. Faster than human legs could carry.
By the time he reached the warehouse, smoke billowed into the night sky. Figures in hulking exosuits stomped through firelight, weapons sparking. They weren't stealing — they were destroying.
Brendon roared, the guttural sound of Wildmutt rattling windows. The mercs turned, startled, before opening fire.
Bullets pinged harmlessly off diamond a heartbeat later, as Brendon shifted mid-leap into Diamondhead. Shards of crystalline armor erupted from his skin. He slammed into one suit, sending it crashing through a wall.
Another raised a cannon, charging. Brendon pivoted, crystal shield expanding across his arm. The blast ricocheted into the ceiling, showering sparks.
Civilians gathered outside, phones raised, catching every moment. The legend of Morpher grew with each shaky frame.
Finally, the last exosuit retreated, stumbling into the smoke. Brendon froze as he saw the spray-painted "H" emblazoned on its chestplate.
Hammer.
He let the diamond form dissolve, chest heaving. Human again, but not calm. Not safe.
Hammer wasn't guessing. Hammer was declaring war.
And Brendon knew, standing there in the wreckage, that the game had just shifted. No more shadows. No more whispers.
Morpher had enemies now.