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Andre looked down at the soldier lying on the floor and smirked. Then he pulled off his sweatshirt and took a moment to check himself out. He patted down his big, striated pecs. “Solid,” he said. Then he flexed both his giant biceps, turning his head from side to side to get a good look at the bulging, veiny masses of muscle. He grinned. “Fuck yeah!”

Then he planted one foot square on the chest of the solider and said, “Get up. Go on, try and get up. Try it.”

But the soldier just lay there petrified, eyes wide and looking up at the impossibly muscular 12-year-old.

“Tell you what,” said Andre, “if you can get up, I’ll let you live.”

That seemed to offer the soldier some motivation and Petersen began to struggle to get out from under the 12-year-old’s ponderously muscled leg. But it was no use.

“You’re gonna havta do better than that,” said Andre, laughing.

Petersen grabbed Andre’s leg with both hands and tried to flip the kid off him, but it was like the 12-year-old was bolted in place. He couldn’t budge him.

“Pathetic,” said Andre as he started applying pressure with his foot.

“UUUUUGGGGHHHHH!” shouted Peteresen, “You’re crushing me!”

“Who me?” said Andre, making his big pecs jump. “Is this little kid crushing the big bad soldier with just the tiniest pressure from his little kid foot? No. Couldn’t be.” Andre applied more pressure.

“AAAHHHHHHH!” shouted Petersen.

“You know,” said Andre looking down at his hulked-out legs, “I think you can see the muscle fibers in my humongous quads right through my jeans.”

Petersen, a pain filled grimace on his face, started pounding on Andre’s muscled-out leg with both fists. But he may as well have been pounding a tree trunk for all the good it did him.

“Are you done yet?” Andre asked Petersen as the soldier slowly gassed out and his hits became more and more feeble. “Yeah. I’d say you’re done.”

Then Andre pushed his foot down and crushed the man’s rib cage. He screamed and suddenly went limp.

“Oh, you killed him!” said Ethan. “I wanted a turn.”

“No worries, Bro,” said Andre. “We got another one.” 

The all turned and looked over at Blythe, who was just starting to come to.

Just then the door flew open and in thundered Nate, followed by Justin and Captain Pettigrew.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” roared Nate. “You can hear those screams throughout the entire school! You want everyone knowing we’re here?”

“Who cares?” said Andre. “They’re all gonna die anyway. I say we do it now and get it over with.”

“Stick with the plan,” said Nate. “Even though you just made it 10 times as hard. Look at you guys! What the hell did you do? You can't pass for normal anymore!”

“Fuck normal,” said Andre, flexing his enormous, carved, veiny bicep. “Who the hell wants to look normal? This is way better!” There was a general rumble of agreement among the boys.

“Well it completely fucks us. We need to take this place on the low down, under the radar, so we’ll have a place where kids can come and turn without getting shot at.”

“Why?” said Andre. “We’re doing OK without it.”

“We are?” said Nate. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” said Andre. “I’m sure.”

“Then you better come with me, but put your goddam shirt back on first.” Nate started for the door, but paused. “Stay here,” he said to Caleb. “No one leaves this room. Captain, Justin, you’re with us.”

The small group left the cafeteria and headed down the hall. They stopped just outside the gym doors. There was a guard there but he stood at attention and saluted as soon as he saw the captain. Then he stopped and stared open mouthed at Andre’s muscled out physique.

“Fuck,” said Nate. “Andre, take care of him.”

Andre walked up to the soldier, grabbed the startled man by the belt and just slammed him up against the wall. BAM! The man was stunned but quite clearly no more than that. Andre grabbed him again and this time rammed him right through the plaster wall. In a cloud of plaster and debris, the soldier flew a couple of yards into the next room and collapsed on the floor, clearly crumpled in an unnatural position.

“Oh,” said Andre. “Sorry about the wall…”

But he trailed off and he and the others peered through the hole into the gym beyond. There were rows and rows of body bags, all of them kid-sized.

“What the fuck?” said Andre.

“Still think we’re dong ok?” asked Nate.

Furious, Andre grabbed the Captain and lifted him up over his head.

“Stop!” yelled Nate. “We need him!”

“Need him?” said Andre. “The guy who did this?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna run this place. Only this time, for us.”

“How can you trust him?”

“Because his son’s one of us. You think he wants his son to wind up like that?” said Nate, pointing to the body bags.

“I guess not,” said Andre, lowering the Captain to the floor. “But I still don’t trust him.”

“We don’t have to trust him,” said Nate. “We’ve got Justin watching his every move.”

“I don’t trust Justin, either,” said Andre.

“I do,” said Nate. “So you just have to trust me. You trust me, don’t you?”

Andre thought for a second before he nodded. 

“Good,” said Nate. “First thing we need is a bunch of guys who can pass for normal.”

“Where are we going to get those?” asked Andre.

“Are you kidding?” said Nate. “This place has got to be full of ’em.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well,” said Nate. “The cafeteria workers probably saw all the shit that went down in there. You’re gonna have to kill ’em. So, I hope you can cook.” 

Nate sent Andre back to the cafeteria to do –quietly-- what needed to be done. And he instructed the young juggernaut to stay out of sight in the cafeteria kitchen with the rest of the guys. As consolation, Nate gave them permission to eat as much as they wanted. Since they were no longer any use for stealth, they may as well complete the transformation.

Their next stop was one of the science classrooms. It had been converted into a lab for extracting the mutating Double Y hormone. Dr. Rosenberg, a grey harried man of about 50, was sitting and staring into a computer screen, but rose as soon as they entered.

“Captain,” the doctor said, “what’s happened? Why have we suspended operations?”

Justin looked around the lab and saw an unconscious 12-year-old boy strapped to an examination table. He was only wearing a hospital gown, but Justin could tell, from his shredded, corded forearms alone, that this kid had started to turn.

“A change in orders,” said the Captain. “They seldom tell me why.”

“How will we control the mutation?” asked Dr. Rosenberg. “Don’t tell me we’re going to start gassing them again. That would be a tragic waste of material.”

“A waste of material?” roared Nate. 

Whoa, Justin didn’t think he’d seen Nate this angry since before he changed. His face was beat red. The wide pulsing veins were sticking out of his thick corded neck. He walked right up to the Doctor and before Justin realized what was happening Nate had thrust his fist right through the doctor’s chest. There was a gush of blood as a second later Nate pulled his fist out. Only now it was holding the doctors crushed and mangled heart.

He showed it to the still conscious doctor and said, “You don’t mind, do you? You weren’t using it anyway.” And then as the doctor toppled over, he added, “It was just a waste of material.” Then he threw the bloody organ on top of the Doctor’s corpse and turned to Justin. 

“Make sure he’s ok,” said Nate, indicating the unconscious boy on the table. Justin still sickened by what he’d just witnessed moved over to the boy to check him.

“Did you have to do that?” Asked Captain Pettigrew. 

“Yes,” said Nate. “I did.”

“Are you going to kill all my staff?” asked the Captain.

“Not immediately,” said Nate, “Only the ones we don’t need, like the butcher, here.” Then he turned to his brother. “How is he Justin?”

“He seems ok,” said Justin. “Just asleep, drugged or something. There aren’t any marks on him so I doubt they’ve extracted anything.”

Nate joined his brother and looked down at the boy. “He’s barely started changing,” said Nate. “He could be really useful. We need someone to look after him.”

“I’ll do it,” said Justin.

“No,” said Nate, smiling. It was an odd sight, again something Justin hadn’t seen in a while. It was particularly at odds with his blood soaked right hand. “You’re the Captains new assistant. We need you to stick with him. If he tries anything, kill him. Or if you can’t kill him, tell one of us and we’ll do it.”

So much for the smile.

“Now,” said Nate, “for the next item on the agenda, let’s meet our new recruits.”