PROLOGUE
Apollo
The screaming never ended.
Apollo stared at the same gray concrete ceiling, every crack memorized, every inch mapped and logged.Eighteen years, one hundred and ninety-eight days, six hours, forty-two minutes, and thirteen seconds.The sum of his life so far had been spent caged in four concrete walls apart from the mandatory education he’d received at the hands of the facility.
One-on-one tutoring, no one else there but the tired-eyed teacher whose job was to help him grow up into a performing human being.Well, that was what they called it.
Apollo thought it was more like being a trained monkey with an organ grinder.There were no windows, no sunlight.Stale air was pumped in through small vents, undoubtedly recycled from other, more important parts of the facility.Places where decisions were being made about who lived and died, what subject would be cut open next, who would have their body, and DNA, sliced and diced in an endless search for perfection.Creating the perfect weapon.
Am I next?Apollo had been in and out of sterile operating rooms more times than he cared to admit.His only warning he was chosen came from those same vents carrying not only air but something more sinister.Nitrous oxide, a sedative.It was sufficient to incapacitate him long enough for the goons to come in and inject him with the hardcore tranquilizers.The bastards had learned early they couldn’t take Apollo head-on without risking themselves in the process.He waited for the first hints of that sweet-smelling gas and began his countdown.
How long can I stay conscious this time?Breathe.In, out.Slow, steady.I need to get my recovery time down.Apollo had been testing his body’s ability to withstand the gas while never allowing the guards to suspect he was still awake when they came into his cell.He’d use that to his advantage someday soon.Until then, he’d have to restrain himself from showing the extent of his newfound abilities, no matter how much he wanted to use them on those motherfuckers causing those screams echoing throughout this level of the facility.
Apollo knew he wasn’t the only one down here.Still, exact numbers eluded him because every time he was removed from his concrete cell, apart from his solo sessions of education, he was unconscious, at least until recently, as his immunity to the sedatives grew.Roughly seven months ago, Apollo began noticing a new sense forming alongside his human five.During periods of intense concentration, he swore he could feel or, better yet, sense the other mutants like him, being held here.
The screaming stopped.That meant one of two things.The test subject mercifully passed out or was dead, which in Apollo’s mind was an even greater mercy.
However, mercy would be the last thing on Apollo’s mind when he broke free of the Noah Group and their disgusting project.No, there’d be no mercy given to those involved.His only wish when it was all said and done would be to take as many of those assholes to hell along with him before being taken down.Hell didn’t scare Apollo.He was already there, and as the air around him took on that familiar sweet scent, he began to count and wait.
CHAPTER ONE
Rocko
“Put your motherfuckin’ hands up, or I’ll end you where you stand, you asshole cop,” someone slurred.
Rocko had to admit this might be a record for the fastest he’d been mugged getting off a damn plane, and he had to wonder how whoever this POS was knew he was a cop.But when he looked behind him, no one was there.
“I’ll do it,” the same voice slurred even louder.“I’ll fucking fill you full of lead.”
Turning slightly to the left, Rocko looked back at his rent-a-car, behind which the sign declaring the rental company wasn’t responsible for lost or stolen goods seemed past ironic.Beside the sign stood a man with half a handcuff dangling off his right wrist.In his other hand, he held a Glock 19.
The rootin’ tootin’ cowboy was wearing what had to be the most threadbare jacket Rocko had ever seen.In front of this joker stood a slender man in a police uniform.The kid was no more than five years out of puberty and barely out of the academy, which spoke volumes about his empty holster and his face full of fear and frustration.
“Great.Just fuckin’ great,” Rocko muttered under his breath before setting down his duffle and approaching the driver’s door of his rental as if he was oblivious to the situation unfolding behind him.
Not only had he sat through the flight from hell on his way to New York from Texas, but now he had to deal with some drunk idiot who decided to play tough guy.The rookie stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.If this was any reflection of how this trip to meet Apollo and his crew was going to play out, Rocko was inclined to head back to the terminal and suffer being pretzeled into another airplane seat.
He jingled the rental’s keys to make sure the man who’d likely already racked up enough felonies to keep him incarcerated for at least twenty years registered Rocko’s presence.The dude spun around and pointed the gun at him.
“Stay where you are,” the felon warned.
“Or what?”Rocko asked.
The guy’s glazed eyes widened, and it took him a second to register what Rocko had said.
“Better do what he says,” the rookie advised Rocko.“Don’t be a hero.”
“Yeah, that was never my strong suit.How long have you been on the job?”
“What?”
“Hey, over here,” the asshole shouted.“I’m the guy with the gun.You do what I tell you.”
“Again, or what?”Rocko twirled the keys around his finger, watching numb-nut’s pinpricked eyes zero in on the tinkling sound.Wasted, high, and stupid.The trifecta.
“Whatcha do?”Rocko looked up and pointed at one of the many cameras posted throughout the parking lot.
