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A valve bursts open after ceaseless years of pressure. A rich bioactive fluid thrumming with centuries of microscopic growth pours in a torrent into a bare glass chamber. The nutrient powder waiting below dissolves and the chamber seals, its automatic locks clicking on at last. A chassis of brass and steel, alien and pock-marked, begins to shudder as banks of muscle and bone grow to fill its cavities. A computer system begins to beep and a screen lights up in the dust-cloaked room.
You begin to wake - brain growing and roiling in the sealed Becoming Chamber and coming to be aware of itself - of the inescapable wrong of your own being. The conditions were improper, the fluid was not sterile - you have grown wrong. Eventually the Becoming Chamber senses its mistake - it's starved biological parts flicker awake and the machinery begins to chatter with the hunger of its flesh. A warning light flashes. There is a sound of wrenching metal and rust.
You are a mistake - the last mistake this facility will ever make. You will be disposed of, as the drain opens beneath you to vent the failed experiment of your body. Though the sedatives runn through your newfound flesh rebel, and the rust of your cybernetic mantle digs into your fresh nerves, you know before fear can tell you that you must not die.
>Attempt to hold on through the disposal cycle - once the fluid has drained you can break free.
>Let yourself be disposed of, but hold your body tight to your mantle. Survive through the flushing system and you may find escape.
