Every worker in the bunker knew. They didn't speak of it. They didn't have to. When a yellow Overseer went looking for a slave, there was only one outcome: Someone was going to die. And today... everyone knew it was going to be Jackob.
But Jackob was not a normal worker. He had never been. Even as a child, he'd been cautious. Not ruled by rage. Not guided by fear. He listened. He observed. He survived.
So when the Overseer's body hit the floor - dead, twitching, oozing green - Jackob didn't celebrate. He calculated.
"If I return... and he doesn't... I'll be suspected. If I run... I'll be hunted. If I hide... I'll starve."
But then the glowing text still floated in his mind:
> DO YOU WISH TO SHAPESHIFT INTO: YELLOW BUG?
It was madness. It made no sense. And yet... it was his only option.
"That stone saved me," he whispered to himself. "It gave me strength. I don't know what this is - but if I'm dying today... I'd rather die with teeth."
And then, with calm precision... He chose: YES.
Instantly, the tunnel was filled with light. But not like before. This time, it was silent lightning - purple bolts arcing through the air, wrapping around Jackob's body like phantom chains.
He didn't scream. He didn't run. He stood still - eyes wide, jaw clenched - as his body began to change.
His spine cracked. His skin darkened. His hands split and reformed into chitinous claws. His chest expanded. His bones twisted. A pair of thin, membranous wings burst from his back with a wet snap. His face - his human face - melted into a new shape. Mandibles. Black eyes. Vibrating antennae.
And then... it stopped. The light vanished. Silence returned. And standing there, in the broken tunnel, breathing slowly... Was a Yellow Overseer. But not quite. Because inside the shell... was Jackob.
He looked down at his new body. Familiar - in the worst possible way. He had been beaten by these monsters. Starved by them. Watched them kill. Now, he wore one like a mask.
"I don't just have his body," he realized. "I have his voice... his scent... his clearance."
Jackob didn't know how long it would last. Didn't know if it would kill him from the inside out. Didn't care. Because right now... he had a way out.
And for the first time in seventeen years - no one would stop him.
Jackob stood over the corpse of the Overseer. The blood was still warm. The stone - gone. His body - no longer his.
He flexed his new limbs, four in total - six if you counted the smaller secondary arms curled beneath the main set. His chitin flexed with each breath. His eyes blinked in sequence. And when he spoke...
"Report," he hissed to the empty tunnel. It was the Overseer's voice. Smooth. Clicking. Inhuman. He shivered. Then he chuckled.
"Freedom... I'm coming, baby."
Before leaving, Jackob knelt down. He picked up the red stone he'd found earlier - the excuse he'd used when the Overseer first confronted him. It was meaningless now... but it felt like his. A reminder of who he was. Of what he'd survived.
He clutched it tight, then looked at the dead bug. He needed to hide the body. And so, he began to dig.
But as his new claws sank into the earth, something strange happened. He didn't dig. He shredded. His arms moved like a machine - soil, rock, debris all flying away in synchronized waves. In fifteen minutes, he carved a pit deeper than anything he'd ever made in four days of work. Not a drop of sweat. Not a tremble in his arms.
He stared at the hole, realization blooming behind black insect eyes. "We were never here to dig," he murmured. "Not for efficiency. Not for production. Just to suffer."
It made sense now. A dozen Overseers could dig out this mine in weeks. Why keep hundreds of broken humans underground?
"We were punishment. Not labor. Slaves of memory. Trash being taught a lesson."
He wrapped the body in a tarp. Tossed it in. Buried it. Flattened the dirt. Gone. As if it never existed. Then he turned back toward the tunnels. And for the first time in his life... walked like he belonged.