Mechamorph in DC

The interior of the warehouse was far from welcoming, but it was exactly what Ethan needed. The air was thick with staleness, and the dim lighting from flickering overhead bulbs only added to the oppressive atmosphere. Dust blanketed the floor and clung to the remnants of old machinery, relics of the warehouse's long-forgotten purpose. Its isolation, hidden location, and distance from the city center made it ideal—perfect for a base of operations.

Ethan paused, taking in the environment. "Not exactly five-star accommodations," he muttered, his glowing eye cutting through the dimness. "But I've worked with worse… I think." That last part gnawed at him—a remnant of the memory loss he couldn't shake. Still, he felt a strange comfort in the warehouse's emptiness. It was like a blank slate, mirroring his own uncertain new existence.

Parking the car in a secluded corner, Ethan shifted his form, the vehicle's sleek surface rippling as he emerged. His metallic fingers brushed over the hood, a faint hum following the gesture, almost as if the car were responding to him. "Good job," he said softly, a chuckle escaping him. "Not bad for something I whipped together."

His glowing eye swept across the warehouse as he ventured further inside, illuminating the shadows like a flashlight. Every creak of the floorboards, every drip of water echoing in the silence heightened his awareness. "It's quiet," he murmured. "Too quiet. But that's a good thing… for now."

Ethan's light fell on a cluster of industrial crates stacked in the corner. Running a hand over their metal surfaces, he felt the cool sturdiness beneath his touch. "Heavy-duty stuff. This will come in handy." Cracking one open, he found disassembled conveyor belts and other industrial components. "Jackpot," he muttered, a flicker of excitement in his tone.

He moved toward an old forklift, its rusted form barely recognizable as a machine. Ethan crouched to inspect it, his glowing eye scanning its inner mechanics. "Ugh, this thing's been through hell," he said, shaking his head. "But it's salvageable. I'll turn you into something better."

Shelves along the walls revealed a mix of mechanical odds and ends—gears, switches, wiring, and more. Despite their disorganized state, Ethan saw potential in every piece. "This place might look like a junkyard, but it's got everything I need," he remarked, his circuit-like markings glowing faintly with excitement.

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Ethan wasted no time setting up the warehouse's security system, knowing that protecting his base was his first priority. Scavenging electrical panels, broken monitors, and old cameras, he set to work upgrading and merging the components.

With his Mechamorph abilities, the process was fluid and seamless. "Never thought the expression 'I am the machine' would literally apply to me," he said, his voice tinged with amusement as his body morphed into tools to assist his work. "But hey, if it works, it works."

Within hours, a fully functional system was in place. Cameras monitored every corner of the warehouse, while motion detectors covered the entrances and perimeter. "Now I'll see them coming before they see me," Ethan remarked, watching the monitors light up with live feeds of the warehouse.

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Upgrading the scattered electronics came next. To most, the old computers and broken machinery were just junk, but to Ethan, they were treasure. "Junk to most, gold to some," he said with a smirk as he began dismantling and merging the pieces.

As his form flickered between humanoid and tool-like shapes, he worked tirelessly. "This is… incredible," he mused. "I don't even have to think about it—my body just knows what to do." He couldn't help marveling at the innate precision of his abilities.

In hours, he had assembled a supercomputer—sleek, compact, and powerful. Standing about two feet tall and wide and three feet long, it housed processing power that matched Gotham's Batcomputer. The holographic interface sprang to life with a flick of his finger, displaying real-time data streams and projections. "Now this," Ethan said, admiring the interface, "is what I call a computer."

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Turning his attention to the larger machines, Ethan's biggest challenge was transforming the forklift, car, and a old shipping container. "All right, let's see what you've got," he said, rolling up his metaphorical sleeves.

After countless hours of work, the transformation was complete. The vehicle stood as a massive, mobile base, the size of a small home—17 feet wide, 75 feet long, and fully equipped for his needs. Its sleek silver and gunmetal-grey exterior gleamed in the dim light.

Inside, the space was divided into a few key sections: the driver's area, a workstation with integrated storage, the supercomputer, and a power station. The walls were reinforced, capable of withstanding heavy impacts. "Not bad for a day's work," Ethan said, running a hand over the polished interior.

The centerpiece was a arc reactor—a prototype that had tested Ethan's limits. "Took way too long," he muttered, shaking his head at the memory of trial after frustrating trial. "But it's worth it." Now, the reactor hummed softly, providing limitless power to the vehicle. 

With a quiet pride in his voice, Ethan leaned back and admired his creation. "If this doesn't scream 'high-tech lair,' I don't know what does." His glowing eye flickered, a sign of both exhaustion and satisfaction. "Still, this is just the beginning."

"Now I can at least relax and surf the internet for all the information I'll need," he said, just as a notification from the security system interrupted him. Three cars were heading toward his location.

Ethan quickly entered his new vehicle, maneuvering it into a shadowy corner of the warehouse. Activating its basic camouflage, he ensured it blended seamlessly with its surroundings.

Turning his attention to the security cameras, he observed as the cars burst through the rusted fence, speeding toward the warehouse.

Four burly men exited the lead vehicle, making quick work of the main door and pushing it open to allow the cars to enter.

Once inside, the occupants of all three vehicles stepped out, their movements purposeful as they surveyed the dimly lit space.

Ethan watched with growing unease as the men began unloading equipment from the vehicles. Within minutes, they had set up portable lights, a camera, and a chair in the center of the warehouse. The scene felt disturbingly methodical, and Ethan's glowing green markings flickered with agitation as he tried to piece together their intentions.

Moments later, one of the men opened the back door of the last car and roughly pulled out a teenage girl. She stumbled slightly, but her captor yanked her forward, dragging her to the chair and forcing her to sit down. Her wrists were bound, though she didn't struggle. Instead, her expression was a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, as if she were more frustrated by the inconvenience than frightened by the situation.

Ethan's markings pulsed brighter as his emotions flared. It didn't take long for him to deduce the situation—this girl had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. The men moved with practiced efficiency, positioning the camera to record what was likely a demand for money. Ethan's eye narrowed, the glow intensifying as he whispered to himself, "Better now than never to get involved." He began formulating a plan, knowing he couldn't sit idly by while a life hung in the balance. After all as someone once said with great power comes even greater problems.