You sprint across the tarmac, the sound of your feet against the tarmac and heart pounding in your chest almost drowning out the muffled shouts and droning siren behind you. The mission had been going fine until a brief moment ago. The data core was exactly where intel said it would be, every keycode worked, it was all too perfect… up until you tripped an alarm on your way out.

       You pause a moment, ducking behind a car, steadying your breathing. Behind, you heard more footsteps. Not rushed like yours, but a heavy rhythm shaking the ground. Can’t be another runner, and not a clumsy group of hired mercs. A glimpse into the wing mirror confirms your suspicions: a security mech, prowling the perimeter of the lab behind you. You could outrun it for a while, try and lose it in the sprawling industrial centre, but you’d never make it to the public streets before it found you...

         Unless…

       A single thought was all it took to start the transformation that could save your life, every cell in your body starting to change, a subtle warmth spreading through your body… but such a radical change would take time to complete, and you had none to spare. You had to keep running.

       Every muscle in your body aches, both from the effort of running and the strain of the transformation already taking place, taking more of a toll on your body with every passing second. Your heartbeat grew irregular, your breathing ragged, a building sensation of heat… and weight. Something was taking shape inside you, heavy and solid, each step becoming more of labour just to keep your body upright.

       Pausing a moment, leaning against one of a dozen identical trucks, you feel your chest: something angular was pressing out of your skin, your ribs pushing and straining, sharp edges forming under your fingers. The heat grew stronger, soft flesh giving way to hard metal, the beginnings of an engine taking shape. Throughout your body, organic cells were converting to synthetic hybrids, a complex balance of nature and technology, keeping you alive while your organs transformed into the mechanical structures of your new form. Across your chest, you feel your skin stiffening, expanding outwards to make more room inside you, unnatural angles pressing out into your clothes.

       Even as your muscles continue to burn, your shirt stretched tight across your changing torso, you force yourself onwards, the sounds of your mechanical pursuer growing loader with each passing moment.

       You barely notice your breathing slowing, more preoccupied with the rumble building inside your chest, the muscles and valves of your heart expanding outwards, pistons forming, spluttering briefly into life as blood turns to petrol inside you. Heat flares in your chest, too much to handle, your clothes choking and stifling your body. You tear them off, your clumsy hands almost too stiff to manage, fabric tearing across the new angles of your torso. You risk a look down at your chest - even your neck feels stiff, protesting against the motion - dull, ashen looking skin pushing out unnaturally. Colour fades from your body, soft skin becoming hard composite, stretching and pulling away from what were once your organs, exposing a powerful engine. You close your eyes for a moment. It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable, the feeling of your body warping and splitting apart, becoming the thousand separate pieces that would form your new body.

       It was becoming harder to stand upright, the changes spreading further into your limbs, the weight of your growing engine pulling you down. You stagger from vehicle to vehicle, trying to keep yourself out of sight, still hearing the tell-tale thud of the robot prowling behind you. Glancing ahead, you spied the hole you’d made in the perimeter fence on your way in, the bare brick of buildings beyond, the faint glow of streetlights at the end of an alleyway.

       Your back began to push out, spine lengthening, pulling the flesh of your rear out behind you. Glancing back, your saw your skin start to push out at the edges, flesh turning to synthetic leather and padding; the beginnings of a seat. It continues to grow, a hump forming just below your shoulders, a hollow feeling inside your body as your fuel tank stretches out, a small storage pod above it. You glance down at the data core in your hand… how long would you still be able to hold it? Already you could see your fingertips turning tough and rubbery, a criss-cross of tread marks slowly emerging, a growing urge to spread your fingers. You reach behind you, clicking open the storage pod, shuddering a little at the strange echo, dropping the data core inside. It would be safe there… it had to be.

       The scent of fuel and oil fills the air, the sound of your own engine almost all you could hear. How far behind was the robot, now?

       You have to keep moving.

       Your legs protest with each step, ankles rolling slightly, knees locking into place. You tumble forward, barely catching yourself, a sharp shock as your hard chest digs into the rough ground.

       You awkwardly pull yourself up, dragging yourself through the fence, knees scuffing against the concrete below, pulling yourself behind a dumpster: if you couldn’t run, at least you could hide. Looking down, you watch your legs change, involuntarily straightening them, pressing your feet into each other. Flesh blurs together, feet flattening, gradually curling rounder and rounder, gaps slowly forming between new spokes as each toe spread out. You awkwardly shuffle on the ground, making room for your growing wheel, a stretching feeling in what were once your toes, inflating out into a thick tire. Flesh starts to withdraw, like water draining from a lake, revealing coiled shock absorbers that were once muscles, drive chains emerging along the swing arm your legs had become, wrapping around your ankle-sprocket. You could feel every part of you connecting, the tight fit of metal against metal, the slip of oil as your feet started to rotate, catching against the chain, tension growing.

       Not much longer, you think, desperately willing the changes to speed up.

       You look forward, not sure whether you really meant to, or if your neck was starting to lock in place. In front of you, your arms stretched outward, awkwardly pushing against the ground in front of you. Desperately, with your last bit of movement, you awkwardly shuffle your body against the dumpster, not willing to take the chance of falling over. Hands press together, fingers spreading out into new spokes, drawing a rubber tire out between them. Brake callipers emerge, arms drawing thinner into straight suspension, now stuck straight out ahead of you. You feel the change pushing deeper inside you, forcing your shoulder blades out, bones reworking into handlebars, twinges of discomfort as switches and brake levers emerge. A tension grows under you, a part of your body emerging, pushing backwards, growing thicker and harder as it settles alongside your legs, forming a gleaming exhaust.

       Another crash. Closer. Had it seen you?

       Not long left, you reassure yourself. Your head is the one organic part of you remaining, awkwardly stuck on the front of a powerful motorcycle. If you could just get yourself moving, speeding away from your pursuer, you wouldn’t need headlights…

       It was never easy getting used to a new body. All the muscle memory you relied on, even for basic things like walking, was lost in the transformation. For smaller changes, one human to another, you could adapt quickly enough, but the more you changed the harder it became. Even becoming an animal, you could rely on faint instincts, honed with practice. Becoming something mechanical was the hardest, requiring years of practice to even complete the change, let alone control your new form... you just hope you remember quickly.

       You tentatively wobble your legs, wheel spinning a little in front of you, catching against some rubbish, sending a bent can clattering across the ground. No matter what, you were going to make noise. You had to be quick.

       Your face starts to push out, features smoothing, mouth sealing over.

       You awkwardly roll yourself forward, delicately balancing, your front wheel wobbling from side to side. At least that was easy.

       Your hair slicks back, stretching out behind you, turning shiny and smooth, colour fading as it solidified into a transparent windshield.

       You tried your ignition, shoulder twitching, a fierce rumble and flash of heat inside you. The sensation filled your body, every inch of you shaking, a brief flare of pleasure and power inside you.

       Your ears stretch outwards, shifting either side of you, flattening into wing mirrors, glinting in the light. Something shifted in your mind, senses adjusting to your new body, sensors in the mirror showing what was behind you. There: a shadow, looming by the gap in the fence, a flash of light reflecting off its claws, rending the fence apart like it was nothing.

       You try the ignition again, your engine firing briefly again, feeling the slosh of fuel inside you as your body shakes.

       A pressure grows in your head, a dull ache inside, a strange squeezing sensation against your eyes. Your jaw starts to push outwards, away from your body, your teeth aching as your mouth clenches shut. Looking down, you can see your nose extending out in front of you, gleaming black like the rest of your bodywork, forming a smooth triangle blocking the sight of your fore suspension.

       As your face continued to change, stretching out into aerodynamic bodywork, your vision started to distort. Your eyes shifted, the shape of your head forcing them to look sideways, the world around you blurring slightly as your retinas transformed into an array of powerful LEDs. Your eyelids grew heavy and sluggish, closing briefly, sealing over your new headlights. When your vision returned, the world briefly shimmered with rainbows, eyelids now forming myriad lenses directing your vision - and headlights - ahead of you. You try to blink and feel an electric tingle, the brickwork ahead of you illuminated in brilliant light.

       A deep klaxon sounds behind you, red light casting a shadow of the motorcycle you had become across the ground, the robot swivelling to look right at you, sounding the alarm for others to follow.

       Now or never.

       A final surge of effort, ignition firing into life, a brief rumble inside you turning into a powerful roar that fills your body.

       Switching into gear, you feel your drive meshing into place, a brief tension as everything locks together, your drive chain engaging, tugging your rear wheel forward.

       The robot looms in your wing mirrors, an arm reaching towards you…

       A flash of heat beneath you as rubber skin digs into the cracked concrete below, debris flying behind you, a moment of wheelspin before you suddenly jolt forward.

       The speed catches you almost by surprise, front-wheel wobbling as you steady yourself, racing down the alley. Another klaxon sounds, the robot pounding against the concrete as it races to catch you. Ahead, pedestrians cry out in alarm, jumping out of the way as you speed past, weaving your way into the evening traffic.

       Your engine sings. Wind plays across your face. Vehicles flash by beside you.

       The robot fades from view.

       You’re free.