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  “Hey,” she whispered and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. “How are you doing?”

  He sighed and leaned back on the pillows. “Thanks to Slightly’s mad medical skills and the antivenom you gave to him to counteract the morphling poison, I guess you can say I’m fine.”

  “Fine as in good? Or fine as in, ‘I don’t want to tell you I’m miserable’?” She helped fluff the pillows to give him better support.

  “No, I really am fine. I’m just—” He tried to sit up and winced. “It was stupid, what I did. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was angry. I left the group, endangered everyone, and now I’m paying the price.” When she was done, he leaned back and wore a relieved smile.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked.

  “I blame myself for not stopping the Red Skulls, for not being strong enough. If I could just replicate myself more, I could be the only army we would ever need. No one would have to sacrifice themselves in the war against Neverland. I could be an army of one.”

  “That’s a heavy burden to carry alone. Neverland isn’t just your enemy. It’s the enemy of all of us. Don’t try to rob us of our retribution, Ditto. We fight together, or not at all. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Wendy,” he smirked.

  She understood she sounded motherly in that moment, but he didn’t seem to mind. She did seem to mother the boys since they didn’t have one.

  The door opened and John came in with Ditto’s backpack. Ditto visibly brightened, and despite the pain, he sat up. “Did you bring my bag?”

  “Of course I did. It’s extremely heavy. What’s in it?” John asked, placing the large pack on Ditto’s bed.

  “Tink said bring only the necessities.” He unzipped the bag and held up the Xbox console and the green video game case.

  “Warfare 8? All right!” John said. “I heard they’re coming out with a new live update that’s only available for the top gamers.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it.” Clutching the cord, Ditto considered the distance he’d have to travel from his bed to the TV on the wall to plug it in. “Do you mind helping a brother out?” he asked sheepishly.

  “Only if I get first dibs on battle royale,” John answered.

  “Sounds good to me.” Ditto pulled out the rest of the cords while John set up the system.

  Chapter 9

  Jeremy was thriving in the Red Skulls. Never before had he understood the need or the drive to succeed. He’d just floated through his classes, picking up cute girls and partying on weekends. Essentially passing time until he could graduate and pick a four-year college where he would do the minimum to get a bachelor’s degree and then work for his dad’s company.

  The high he got from the PX drug they gave him was better than any street candy he could find. Though the greatest thrill he’d had thus far came from when he showed his allegiance to Captain Hook by hitting the button to kill his rival—the one called Peter.

  He grinned just thinking about the look in Peter’s eyes when he slapped the button and he went deathly still. It didn’t even seem to faze Hook. He just nodded his head in approval, then took him down to the bunks, and Jeremy was quickly assimilated into the group. They would wake up every morning for breakfast, and then train in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. They would line up after lunch for their shots, where they were given the PX drug. A few of the soldiers had their own injector pens they kept in their pockets; he was told he would get one down the line, that his first few weeks of injections needed to be closely monitored.

  The one thing that he didn’t like, finding it to be very similar to high school, were the obvious factions that had already formed within the ranks. There were the general hired guns, or mercenaries that made up the Red Skulls, who taught the classes and led the combat fighting. These tended to be older men in their thirties and forties and were there to keep the recruits in line. The younger teens, some having been recruited, others forcibly kidnapped, were called the Dusters. With enough treatments, they developed gifts, powers akin to any comic book hero sans spider bites or toxic waste spills.

  He heard the talk, about how the drug only worked on kids who had a special PX gene, also nicknamed the Darwin gene. PX gene allows the genetic code to be altered by the PX drug to gain super powers.

  Jeremy squeezed his fists and felt the burning sensation in his veins and he just knew that he was a special one. He had to be, needed to believe that it was so. Because on his second day here, he saw what happened to those whose bodies didn’t adapt. Burn out, it was called. When the drugs didn’t work anymore and the soldier’s internal organs would just shut down.

  No, he was a special one. He would survive.

  He grabbed a tray and stepped in the food line behind his bunkmate, Brillo, nicknamed because his skin could turn to steel and his crazy curls looked like a Brillo pad whenever he changed. Very carefully, Jeremy stalled and reached behind another duster, pretending to grab a muffin, but with his nimble fingers, he stole an injector out of the other soldier’s pocket. He tucked it under his tray, then slipped it into his own pocket. He then proceeded to fill his tray full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes and followed his bunkmate to their table, but he passed a familiar brown-haired girl, who looked to be drowning her sorrows and pancakes in syrup.

  “Brittney?” Jeremy paused and looked at the former cheerleader who was from his school.

  “Jeremy?” She blinked up at him in confusion. Then her eyes flew wide in panic and she stood up, grabbing his shirt. “You’ve got to help me. I don’t know what’s going on or how I got here.”

  “Shh, chill.” Jeremy put his tray down and grasped both of her wrists in his hands, forcibly removing them from his uniform. “Everything will be fine.”

  Her head swung side to side, her brown ponytail half fallen out; she looked to have barely touched her makeup in ages. The old Brittney would never have let anyone see her without her makeup on.

  “N—no, I’m not fine. The injections. It hurts. I shouldn’t be here.” Her hands were trembling, and she tried to wrap them around her waist in an attempt to comfort herself.

  Jeremy didn’t have time for this. He leaned forward, picked up her fork full of pancake, and held it out to her. “Eat and you’ll feel better.”

  “No, I don’t want to eat. It makes me feel weird,” she hissed, smacking his hand away. The fork flew across the room, leaving a trail of pancake and syrup. Heads turned their way at the commotion, and Jeremy saw a few of the Red Skulls move away from the wall in their direction.

  Frustrated and letting his temper get the best of him, he grabbed her by the elbow, pulled her out the door and into the hall.

  “Listen here, Brit. I’ve got a good thing going here, and I won’t have you spoiling it with your whining.”

  “Wendy,” she said, not paying him any attention. “Is she here? Have you seen her? I was in the library with her, and this monster came out of nowhere and attacked me. I woke up here, and no one will tell me where here is, or if I can go home.”

  Jeremy’s irritation rose at being reminded of Wendy—the cute blonde he had hoped to score with until Peter sabotaged their date. But he couldn’t be too upset about it. It’s because of that sabotage that he’d ended up chasing Wendy into an alley, where, like Brittney, he’d met a scary monster and woke up here, but they clearly had different reactions. She hated it here, but he loved it—and the drugs they continually gave him for free.

  “Relax Brittney, you have a chance to be a part of something great. If you just give it a try.”

  “Give it a try?” she scoffed. “What’s wrong with you? We’ve been kidnapped. Shanghaied.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to leave.”

  “You have Stockholm syndrome bad. Do you not see what kind of place this is? It’s a—”

  He needed her to stop yammering. Instinctively, he grasped her around the throat. He didn’t even realize he was choking her until she started turning red and clawing at his hand. A powerful thrill cour
sed through his body as he watched her squirm. He barely applied any pressure, and he knew with a flick of his wrist he could kill her. His grin grew wider.

  “I know exactly what kind of place this is, and so do you. If you know what’s good for you, you will stop your complaining or you will never see your home again. I have two pieces of advice for you. Are you listening?”

  Brittney’s eyes grew wide, her mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. She attempted to nod her head yes.

  “Adapt or die.” He thrust her away from him, her head smacking hard into the wall, but he didn’t care. He left her there shivering and shaking in the middle of the hall while he headed back into the dining area to finish his morning meal.

  He knew she wouldn’t last long. He could tell already that she wasn’t like him; she wasn’t taking well to the drugs. She wasn’t one of the special ones.

  Brillo looked up from his oatmeal. “Problem?”

  “Nah,” Jeremy answered. “Not anymore.”

  “Today you get to meet the Primes,” Brillo informed him, shoving a bite of eggs into his mouth and chewing.

  “Finally,” Jeremy replied with enthusiasm. He had heard of them but hadn’t seen any so far. Primes were what the recruits called the original PX-1 group, those chosen years ago and who had grown up in the program. They were the elite of the Dusters—the strongest and the toughest. Most were girls—pity. But there were a few boys that had slowly been added into the mix. He didn’t mind fighting girls; he liked being in control and showing them who’s boss.

  “I wouldn’t be excited. They’re going to mop the floor with you,” Brillo said with a mouth full of food.

  “I’d like to see them try,” Jeremy said confidently.

  “That’s because you never had your body rearranged in pieces and handed back to you on a silver platter. They’re not a joke.”

  “Do you see me laughing?” Jeremy said, growing irritated. Brillo acted like he couldn’t take care of himself and that he was going to be beaten. Just wait until he showed them. He would show them all. He just needed an extra push.

  After cleaning up his tray, he avoided his roommate and headed to the restrooms, locking himself in a stall. He pulled out the stolen injector and gave himself an illegal dose. He knew he could handle more than they were giving him. He would become stronger and faster than anyone else. He would prove them all wrong.

  Jeremy’s eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure. He sighed and looked at his hands, and he could see his veins, normally blue, glow red and pulse with his heartbeat before settling down again. He grasped the metal toilet paper dispenser and crushed it like it was tinfoil.

  He wouldn’t lose today. He very well might kill a Prime just to prove that he was a force to be reckoned with. Yes, he would do that. Kill one of them. Jeremy almost felt sorry for the unlucky Prime who was about to be paired with him.

  Chapter 10

  Peter was distracted as he lined up in the training room with his roommates. This was a big deal, a real sparring session between the newer recruits and the more experienced ones. Everything in him was screaming to run and save himself from getting beaten to a pulp—or killed. But even without the threat of inevitable pain, he had a thousand other reasons to not want to be here, wherever here was.

  Wu Zan seemed anxious too; his fingers kept flickering in and out of view as he tapped them against his thigh in super speed.

  “Is something wrong?” Peter asked him.

  “I’m just going to meet my maker. Literally.”

  At Peter’s blank stare, Leroy leaned back and explained before Wu Zan could, “The Primes.”

  “Primes?”

  “It’s the nickname for the first generation of Dusters. The injections we get are built from their DNA, and most of the time we develop the same traits. Wu Zan’s injections of super speed, come from a Prime named Pilot. He just returned from a successful mission where he helped rescue a bunch of the kids from the enemy.”

  “We have enemies?” Peter asked.

  “Yeah, didn’t you know? Years ago, one of the doctors kidnapped a bunch of sick kids that were part of the D.U.S.T. program. Barrie and his team have been hiding them for years and brainwashing them into believing we’re the enemy. When in fact, they were sick and Neverland was treating them.”

  “So Pilot rescued these kids?” This Barrie must be involved with the people that killed Wendy. Peter could feel his fists clenching as he listened.

  “They retrieved most of them. They’re in the freezer going through testing, to make sure they’re healthy. Once they come around, they’ll join us.”

  “I take it Pilot had super speed like you?”

  “You got it. By the way, I’d kill for a taste of whatever Prime gave you your DNA. So we now are matched up to fight the Primes, and Hook doesn’t like it when we lose to them,” Wu Zan said.

  “But someone has to lose,” Peter said.

  “Yeah, but losing doesn’t mean death. Your best chance is to kick the your opponent’s butt and try not to die in the process. Winning means you start the next round of injections from a different Prime.”

  “More injections?” Peter prompted but Leroy didn’t have a chance to respond before the room became hushed and everyone looked across the empty room to the double doors.

  Hook was first through the doors and on his heels were two female Primes; one tall with tiger-like eyes and one petite with curly red hair and freckles. A few other boys entered, led by a slim boy with an air of confidence so thick Peter could almost feel it. The boy had a cocky smile that bore even white teeth, and though his eyes hardly strayed from Hook, who stood directly ahead of him, Peter was quick to notice the boy crook his head subtly at Wu Zan.

  Wu Zan’s fidgeting became worse, and Peter knew the cocky boy must be Pilot.

  “Greeting, recruits,” Hook announced. “I have some news. Our testing has almost reached a pivotal goal, and we are done recruiting. From among you, our future will be determined, but there is only room for the best. Our buyers only want the strongest. So it is time for another culling.”

  Peter didn’t like the sound of that word at all. He wasn’t nervous before, but now he was . . . terrified. The Primes didn’t look any different from the recruits. Like the recruits, the Primes, all looked to be between the ages sixteen and twenty-two. Except the Primes had an air of confidence and seemed to enjoy flaunting their power at the recruits. Winking, nodding and smiling.

  He hung back and watched as Hook pointed to one of the Primes.

  “Amber, you first,” Hook said to a redheaded girl about seventeen. She stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest, a smug smile on her face. Then he motioned at two of the recruits—a male with long hair touching his collar, a nose a little too long for his face, and glasses, and a female with a tight black ponytail and bright green eyes. They both stepped up to the mat, stopping just short of a line drawn on the floor in chalk and began to stretch and jump up and down in place.

  Hook’s hand pointed at the ground and he lifted his arm in the air, signaling the start of the first fight.

  Amber shifted, her body becoming a blur and remolding first into a short woman with shoulder-length hair and bangs that covered her face. The other two recruits quickly shifted to look just like the same short woman as Amber.

  Peter didn’t recognize the woman the three combatants had shifted into, and he nudged Leroy. “Who?”

  “She’s a famous singer. The shifter battles are always the coolest to watch because the fighters try to mimic celebrities. Dude, that’s Ed Sheeran!” Leroy exclaimed in excitement, his hand covering his mouth.

  Peter turned and saw three redheaded men with glasses shift, one into a man in a suit, another into a tall muscular man in a jersey.

  “No, you don’t mix basketball with politicians,” Leroy hissed and booed.

  The battle continued as LeBron James, Ariana Grande, Tom Cruise, three American presidents, two senators, and a plethora of other famo
us musicians crossed the mat. Peter had gotten so involved that he quickly lost track of who was who, but he could see that one of them was slowing down, unable to keep up with the other two.

  A sheen of sweat banded across the brow of two of the shifters. Finally, one collapsed on the ground, holding his chest. Not able to keep the form anymore, the famous late-night host shifted back into the boy with glasses. It was down to two.

  The battle didn’t slow, and it quickly altered. One of the two remaining fighters changed into an elephant. Their trumpet raising in the air, blasting a call of triumph, the other fighter followed suit, but just as quickly, the Prime, had shrunk down into a furry white rabbit.

  “They can’t keep this up,” Leroy whispered. “Shifting takes a lot energy but going from an elephant down to something that small is a killer on the nervous system. They’re asking for a burnout.”

  Fascinated, Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away as the second fighter became a rabbit and they hopped toward each other. A flash of light and the recruit with the tight black ponytail was on her knees in her own form. Sweat was dripping from her forehead, and she stumbled as she tried to get to her feet.

  The other rabbit, the Prime known as Amber, didn’t move. She hopped around, her nose twitching and squealing a high-pitched cry. Never had he heard such a noise from a rabbit.

  The ponytailed recruit kneeled in front of the rabbit. “Can’t change back, can you? Too bad, you should have practiced and studied zoology harder.”

  She grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of the neck and held it up in the air like a trophy.

  Scattered applause traveled through the room, the loudest from the recruits.

  The tiger-eyed Prime stormed over to the recruit. “Give me Amber,” she demanded.

  “Yes, Sgt. Lily,” the ponytailed recruit said, handing over the animal. Sgt. Lily, spun on her heels then disappeared out the double doors. Peter wondered briefly where she was taking her.

  “Very good . . . er.” Hook waited for the winner to announce her name.