OP Absorption

Later that day, Fin was out on his usual scrap run. The safe zone’s edge was a mess of twisted metal and broken concrete, leftovers from when the first Gates opened. He lugged a heavy bag over his shoulder, his boots crunching on gravel. The air smelled like rust and something faintly sour—probably a dead rat or worse.



“Yo, Fin! Hurry it up!” his boss, Greg, yelled from the truck parked a hundred yards away. Greg was a squat, sweaty guy who acted like he was king of the scrap heap. “We ain’t got all day!”



“Yeah, yeah,” Fin muttered under his breath. He bent down to grab a jagged piece of rebar, his fingers brushing the cold metal. His power kicked in—useless as ever.



He could feel every nick and dent in the steel, like it was whispering its boring life story to him. 'Wow, so thrilling,' he thought sarcastically.



That’s when he heard it—a low, guttural growl.



He froze.



His head snapped up, eyes darting around. The safe zone wasn’t *supposed* to have monsters. That’s why it was called safe. But the sound came again, closer this time, from behind a pile of rubble.



“Greg?” He called, his voice shaky. “You hear that?”



No answer. The truck’s engine roared to life—Greg was bailing. “Fin, move your ass!” the man shouted before peeling out, dust kicking up behind him.



“Seriously?!” Fin dropped the rebar and bolted. He wasn’t a runner, but fear made his legs move faster than he thought possible.



The growling turned into a snarl, and he risked a glance back. Something big and scaly was charging after him—green skin, claws like kitchen knives, and a mouth full of teeth that didn’t fit right.



A monster. A freaking monster.