The Superion Gambit

By Norm Stoker

Lamont like many eighteen year olds living in 2057 Boston has a convertible podcar, a girlfriend, and three good buddies. Unlike his peers he lives in a Genetic Research center, has a genetic mental disorder, and can shoot lightning out of his blade-staff. Lamont’s secure world is turned upside down when Grid-One, a podcar traffic relay station is hit by terrorists known as the Hakim killing one of his mentors along with thousands in a nationwide tragedy. The team vows revenge and is sent on their first mission to recapture the relay station. In the resulting battle his team is decimated by an unknown sun weapon. He and the only other survivor, his shy friend Mark are thrown into further disarray as they learn of two other Superion teams like theirs were also developed by the secretive Foundation. Fearing that they may be targeted for extermination they escape to the lunar resort of Nuevo Vegas. They both find jobs and are mentored by Jerry Hornish and Edwin Edwards, but both of these men have their own secrets and ties to the Foundation. As other Superion team survivors show up a makeshift team is formed they are mere pawns in a plot by a rival Foundation faction trying to wrest control from the true leader Osiris, an immortal alien who is reincarnated upon death. Are the inexperienced team members ready to take on their battle-hardened renegade predecessors? Will young Osiris arrive in time to help them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Norm Stoker
• Release date: Mar 14, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452346083

Norm Stoker

Born in Tallahasse Fla. in 1973. Currently lives in Connecticut with his wife and son.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lamont dived to the cold ground with a thud, letting the violent flurry of cool wind blow over him. He drew a heavy breath as he jumped to his feet and measured his opponent. His left hand shook uncontrollably as he concentrated on gathering all of the electric and static energy within and around him. He focused all of the energy into his blade-staff, which he brandished in his right hand. The metal staff glistened with a blue tinge as he raised it over his head in a demonstration of grandeur, like a shaman calling forth the wrath of nature. His body shimmered with blue and yellowish energy. With both his hands, he spun the blade-staff over his head, an even greater show of unnecessary melodrama. A sizzling, crackling sound echoed throughout the valley as a tight bolt of glistening blue lightning sailed towards Hector, who was also known by the appropriate nickname of Hurricane.

Hector stood still under a tree as the bolt sailed over his head and shot his friend a mocking smile. Way off on that one, Lighty. Lamont rested his blade-staff on the grass and leaned on it.He shrugged with apparent indifference. Hurricanes self-satisfied disposition quickly dissipated a moment later as a branch, Lamont’s true target, fell on Hectors’ head.

Hector was knocked down. He brushed the large branch aside, picked himself up, and dusted himself off. His eyes narrowed in furry and concentration.

Lets see some knife throwing, Hector, some dodging from Lamont, and then a little hand-to-hand combat. An anonymous voice echoed through the green valley.

Hurricane kicked the offending branch away. My pleasure, Doc F.

The two friends and rivals charged at each other with super-human speed. When Hurricane got within striking distance he dropped to his knees, skidded, slid five small razor-sharp throwing knives from a belt compartment, and tossed them casually into the air without any thought of direction or targeting.

The small, light knives sailed on gusts of wind, which Hector conjured up. Lamont knew he had total control of each knife as it obeyed his every directional command. Lamont dodged the blades one by one, twisting and turning, his face tight with concentration. The knives seemed to develop minds of their own as they circled back after missing, aggressively striking at their opponent. Lamont lost concentration and became more frantic as he began to run away from the shiny steel demons. They picked up speed; gaining on him, he dropped to ground. They sailed over his head as Hector reset them on his adversary with a mere thought. Hector smirked, he had him now.

Now, knock them out of the sky. Staff only, no powers!The authoritative voice boomed through the valley again.

A relieved Lamont readied his staff, firmly standing his ground now as he faced the knives as they sliced through the air, screaming with a whistling sound. He twisted his staff, extending the sharp ends from their housing. Dropping back into a martial arts stance his training took over as he measured each incoming dagger, swinging his staff with a precision learned over years of dedicated practice. As he connected with the first knife, a loud clang sounded followed by a bright flash as metal struck metal. He dodged another knife as it whistled its deadly tune. He caught it just as it sailed past him, catching it perfectly in the middle, slicing it in half and silencing it forever. Three more clangs later he had dispatched them all. He retracted the blades with another twist.

Hector’s smirk had stiffened into shock. He stood up to retreat when Lamont neared.

Lamont swung his staff at Hectors feet to trip him before he could escape. Seeing the maneuver coming, Hector jumped over the staff, sidestepped to the right, and tripped him with a judo tactic. Lamont dropped his blade-staff as he fell. Hector kicked the staff out of Lamont’s reach and took a second to rejoice in his victory with a pretentious walk over to his fallen opponent, which was all the time Lamont needed to recover. As Hector went in for a foot-stomp to the chest, Lamont caught his leg and pushed. Hector hobbled off-balance for a few seconds before crashing to the ground. Lamont rolled to his blade-staff and retracted the blades with a twist of the shaft.

Lamont stood over Hector like a menacing shadow. He had a foot on Hectors’ chest and both hands on his weapon, pointed directly at his temple. Confident in his victory, he allowed himself the opportunity to rejoice in his victory with a pompous smirk. Check-mate.

Lamont reached his hand out to Hurricane to help him up. Hurricane smacked his hand away as anger, humiliation, and resentment raged inside of him. I can beat you, Hurricane mumbled under his breath. Suddenly Hector the Hurricane lunged at his rival Lamont Lightning. Aided by a strong wind current Hector seemed to sail till he was positioned behind his opponent, locking his neck in a choke-hold with his right arm. Lamont started to lose his balance as currents of wind battered him. Black spots started to form in his field of vision. They both fell to the ground as Lamont tripped Hurricane in a desperate attempt to lessen his leverage and break his hold.

Hurricane was able to control their landing with the wind as his ally. He landed on his knees still squeezing Lamont’s neck, while Lamont's body was limp upon the ground.

Lamont can’t breathe. Stop the exercise, a distant, but robust female voice cried out.

ABORT! ABORT! ABORT! the amplified voice commanded from the hill overlooking the valley.

Hector the Hurricane Yates refused to relinquish his unrelenting grip on his opponent’s neck. Lamont Lightning King stared up at the sky. The black spots were started to grow, covering the bluish gray sky. He knew he had limited time before he blacked out totally. He clasped his hands together, pulled his left arm back with his right hand, and launched his elbow at Hurricane’s head with velocity charged by desperation.

The maneuver was sloppy and primal, but effective. Lamont connected with the side of his friend’s head with a jarring, sickening snap.

The blow left Hurricane reeling in pain as he released his lethal hold on Lamont’s neck and doubled over clenching his own head. The air around Hector became unnaturally still for a moment. Lamont rolled away from Hurricane, coughing and breathing the precious air, which Hurricane’s chokehold had denied him.

#

Two men dressed in suits and overcoats surveyed the activity from their vantage point on a small hill. The older of the two, Doctor Francois, put his pocket amplifier back into his pocket.Despite his age of over fifty, he still retained the muscular build that earned him a spot on the U.S. track and field team in the Two thousand and thirty Olympics. His graying brown hair and wrinkled forehead made him look distinguished and complimented his plain blue suit.

Doctor Michaels sighed, Francois, this team will probably kill each other before they even make it to the battle-field. Michaels was a good twenty years younger than his companion and Francois couldn’t help but feel the bitter sting of jealousy. Michaels had risen quickly in the ranks of the Foundation, while Francois felt that his laborious efforts on Superion project and many years of loyal service to the Foundation had gone unnoticed and unrewarded. Being both a Christian and a company man Francois did his best to turn the other cheek and trust the judgment of the Foundation, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was being kept away from the big decisions as he spent all of his time with his young wards.

It’s an isolated incident, I assure you. Lamont always bests Hurricane in competitions such as fighting, VR games, athletics, women, and chess. However, they are good friends. He just snapped a little. Y’know when you get the ol’ adrenaline pumping in a competitive game it’s hard to turn off.Hurricane’s on medication for his temper. Francois glowered defensively at Michaels.

I know, I prescribe his meds. I understand competition as well as anyone else. Still, I must admit that they play nicer than the L.A. team. That team’s compound is a zoo and their occupants are akin to animals. Francois wrinkled his brow, but didn’t laugh at his colleagues’ apparent attempt at joviality.

Francois took a deep breath. He knew that losing his head with someone who had the connections that Michaels did was far from a smart move. He composed himself and forced a smile. Once my kids get into the thick of things in a combat situation I know they’ll come together as a unit forged in the heat of battle, Francois wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Michaels or himself.

Michaels stepped back, still not convinced, but respecting the strength of Francois convictions. Perhaps, but if they can’t... His words trailed off ominously.

I better go check on the kids… subjects.

Sure, Francois. I need to file a report anyway. Michaels unfolded his mini-computer’s pocket recorder and readied himself for a verbal report.

Francois felt that Stevens, his long-time partner on this project, didn’t trust Michaels. He always seemed to avoid him as much as possible on his frequent visits. Michaels was the psychologist assigned to assess the mental health of all of the Superion teams and had visited this Institute for Genetic Research and Cloning outside of Boston every few months for the last twenty years. Michaels performed similar duties at the two other institutes much like this one.

Stevens was a geneticist who had been working on the Superion project long before Francois was assigned to the task. Much of the projects history was shrouded in mystery even from Francois. Francois’ first assignment out of medical school was to aid Stevens in a creation of a team of super-powered squad of soldiers trained on weapons that were not dependant on technology and gifted with elemental powers. At first Francois did not believe that such things were possible, but he was enticed by an unlimited grant and Stevens exciting promise of new experimental research and discoveries.

Francois walked down the hill towards the five young people who he had come to think of as his children over the last twenty years. They were all miracles of modern science. The main ingredient for lack of a better term that put the super in the Superion project were secret DNA strands. Francois didn’t know where the strands came from. He had no concept of how powerful it would make the embryos that would later become the five children he would grow to love as his own. Perhaps, if he had known he would have poured the milky liquid DNA treatments down the drain, allowing the embryos to grow into normal people who would in turn have ordinary lives.

When he came onboard the project nearly twenty-five years ago he was only told about the two other teams, which were to be raised and trained separately. It took five years just to develop the genetic sequencing. Stevens was involved in creating the first Superion team over fifty years ago, but according to Stevens the team was too powerful and difficult to control. The first team was also cloned at adult age, a method called fast baking in scientific circles and known to be laden with problems. He wanted to start over from scratch with Francois as his new assistant to develop a team from birth.It was his hope that not taking the short cut would breed a more obedient team.

Francois had no idea how far Steven’s ties went with the Foundation. Francois himself attended many Foundation meetings on his own, but the organization was one of secrets and many layers. Was Stevens' clearance below or above his?He didn’t know and he knew better than to ask.

By the time Francois reached the practice field, Stevens seemed to have the situation well in hand. Francois stayed in the background and watched the older man pacify the youngsters with his gentle demeanor. Pete Psychosis was sitting with Hurricane and probably using his telepathy to calm him down. Betty Blaze, the red-haired maiden and the groups only woman was tending to her man, Lamont. Lamont looked well, but was milking his injuries a little to get some additional attention from Blaze. Mark Quake sat contently at his minicomputer under a tree, totally oblivious to everyone around him as well as the recent incident.

Blaze looked up at Stevens. Doc, everything’s alright. We’re not in trouble are we?

No one’s in any trouble. Hectors adrenaline just got the best of him, tempers can flare in contests such as these, Stevens smiled.

Mark, you want to join us, please? The feeble geneticist motioned to the young man of African-American descent under the tree.

Mark pushed a few buttons on the thin rectangular box, which he held in his lap and watched the holographic screen filled with mathematic equations and circuitry diagrams fade into thin air. Reluctantly he walked towards the others and sat between Lamont and Psychosis on the grass.

They were all wearing powder-blue jumpsuits, which was Francois’ idea, derived from his years as an officer in the Inter-National Guard. Stevens sat down on a folding chair that Hector fetched for him.

Thank you, son. He lowered himself into the chair. Stevens fought back his tears, I’ve known all of you your whole lives and it’s been my pleasure to watch each of you mature and learn to hone your respective talents while I continued my research here at the institute. You’ve all come a long way and I’m proud of all of you.Soon you will begin the work for which you have been bred and trained for. I know you will all make me proud as you protect this great country. Stevens turned away as tears trickled down his cheek.

Doc S, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that we couldn’t have done it without you, Betty said in a southern accent.

Francois couldn’t remember which one of her personalities was the southern belle. Apparently Stevens couldn’t either, because he just said Thank you.

You’ve been like a father figure to all of us, both you and Doc F, Lamont stated.The rest of the team nodded enthusiastically.

Francois sighed. He knew he had reluctantly taken on the role as the authoritarian in the upbringing of their wards.

Francois observed the white-haired scientist as he hugged his pupils one by one. He saw Michaels walking down the hill and moved away from Stevens and the children to intercept the mysterious psychiatrist.

Do you want to car-pool up to the meeting tomorrow morning around six a.m.?

No, I’m going up tonight, Michaels answered.

You’re meeting with Sanderson aren’t you?

Michaels remained quiet and stoic faced.

Don’t try to sway her decision against me, Francois warned.

Stevens shrugged the threat off. We’re merely meeting to discuss the facts and the info I’ve gathered here and at the other institutes.

I should be there as well, then, Francois insisted.

Sorry, it’s a closed door session between the chairman of the board and myself.

He bet it was a closed-door session, probably in a hotel room. Sanderson enjoyed toying with men. It was a power trip for her to lure young men into her bed. She had tried such nefarious activities with him years ago, but he wouldn’t stand for it. That decision certainly ruined any chance he had of becoming a Supervisor or a member of the inner circle of five.

Damn, I’m the project leader. I’m the one who laid the groundwork for all the teams and the decision we’ll be making tomorrow can have a major impact on this project, Francois defended his position passionately.

Michaels sighed, It is your baby and the special projects board is grateful for your service to our cause and you will have a chance to present your case and have your say tomorrow. I will not sway Sanderson in either direction; merely give her my professional opinions and the information I have gathered.Good day, he reached out a gloved hand, shook Francois’ hand with a mechanic, perfunctory motion, and started to walk away.

Who’s replacing Paulson on the board? Francois asked casually to the man’s back.

Crenshaw, the answer came back and resonated through Francois’ mind.

This was not welcome news! Crenshaw was a Senator and a well-known crony of Supreme Court Justice Barbara Sanderson, who was also the head of the Foundation’s decision makers on defense projects, commonly called the board of twelve in Foundation circles, of which Francois and Michaels were members.

Francois slowly descended down the hill as he wondered what tomorrows judgment would be.He had given the last twenty-five years of his life to this project. He would have to fight to save his children.

Francois cornered Stevens near his golf cart.They’re ready for you.I’m going back to the institute. Stevens slowly loaded himself into the golf cart.

You were right to say your goodbyes, Francois said, trying to push back his emotions.

Ralph, I know you have some big meeting tomorrow that will have a lasting effect on the team.That much is apparent to me from your interaction with Michaels.I wasn’t able to have children of my own, you know. Even my wife thinks of them as her own. Can’t you tell me what’s going on?

Curious, Ralph Francois thought to himself.How could the man who created the first team be further in the dark than he was? The Foundation had an unusual rank system derived from a pursuit for absolute secrecy he surmised. It was not impossible that he outranked Stevens as Michaels certainly outranked him. What did a title matter anyway with Sanderson and her cronies strangle holding the board through threats, bribes, and sexual persuasion?

Francois kneeled by the golf cart, bowed his head, brought his head back up, looked Stevens in the eye, and put his hand on the scientist’s shoulder as he fought back a tear, I can’t.I know you’ve had to put up with Foundation secrets for the last twenty-five years and I know how much you care for our children. I do too.Still, all I can say is that I will do everything I can to look out for them.

Stevens looked Francois in the eyes. That does bring me some comfort. After a hearty handshake Stevens zoomed away.

Francois stood and paced as he addressed the team. My Superions, my children, you’re progress has been admirable. You all have completed your training phase and at any moment may be called into service for your country. I’m sure you will make both Doctor Stevens and myself proud.I have a meeting tomorrow and as a treat have decided to give you the whole weekend off.

Hoops and hollers erupted from the team.

#

Lamont smiled. This was just what everyone on the team needed. Morale had been low as of late. They were always told that when they reached eighteen they’re training would end and their service would begin. That time had come.

After a few hugs and handshakes with their mentor, the team raced each other at super-human speed through the woods and back to the sprawling three level complex they called home, the Institute for Genetic Research and Cloning. Lamont pressed his thumb against the scanner and the metal door slid open. The team made their way past the labyrinth of laboratories, offices, and cloning chambers to the elevator that they rode to one of sub-levels, which contained their living area.

Pete Psychosis Phelps emerged from the shower room as he worked gel through his thick black hair, This is so cryogenic!Usually we only get Saturday night and Sunday off.It’s only Friday and we don’t have to be back until Monday morning. I’m going over to my girlfriend’s place.She just got her own apartment off campus and her roommates’ visiting her folks. I’m gonna get some tonight, he seemed to sing the words.

Yeah, right, ladies man, Hurricane countered sarcastically.

I can read her mind, you floppy.Plus, she can’t resist the car. The S.T.I. three-thousand GT, Pete said the words as Lamont and Hector mouthed them mockingly.

Pete snapped his towel at the both of them playfully.

He glanced at the clock, I better wait awhile, Beth thinks I’m interning at Storm-Tech Industries in Boston and I don’t want to call her too early. What’s everyone else doing?

Probably just hanging around here with Blaze, maybe download some movies to watch with her and Mark. Lamont stated.

I’m not sure what I’m doing. Hector said.

You’re welcome to come with me.Beth can hook you up with someone.She has lots of spicy friends, Pete offered.

Cryo, Hector accepted his friends offer.

Mark, you’re invited too, Pete said as he buttoned his shirt.

T-thanks f-for the offer, b-but I have this new circuit I’m w-working on, Mark stammered out his reply.

Suit yourself, but I’d rather look at some girls than stare at a mini-com display all my life.Pete grabbed his duffel bag.

Mark looked irked, but the comment was soon forgotten as he switched his ever-present mini-computer on and unfolded the collapsible keyboard.

Hurricane and Pete darted out of the shower area, heading to their private quarters.

Lamont started to walk out, but stopped abruptly. You can go with them.It might be good for you, not that Blaze and I don’t want you around…

I don’t feel comfortable going out, Mark said without stammering.

It’s your call, Lamont said as he left the room, leaving Mark clenching his mini-computer as if it were his last and only true friend.

Lamont was ambushed as he walked down the hallway. He found himself trapped in a hug.

Are we gonna have a chance to be alone tonight, honey, Blaze whispered delicately into his ear.

Lamont took a minute to discern which personality was currently in control of his girlfriend’s mind. By the aggressiveness, blatant sexuality, confidence, and street-wise attitude he knew it to be Jessica, the teenage runaway.

Mark’s gonna’ hang out with us for awhile, but knowing him he’ll want to work in his laboratory for half the night. He’s still going on about his telepathic microchip. He claims he can make a television remote respond to mental commands. Says he found partial plans in a boiler room, of all places. Maybe Chad Storm himself left it for him, he chuckled.

Blaze ran her finger down Lamont’s chest, We’ll just make what time we got count then.I’ll see you in the recreation room in an hour she said with a wink and a licking of the lips.

I’m heading their now to play a game with Doc S.

Oh, chess, she said with ecstasy. I’ll be there in ten minutes," she whispered in his ear, letting the air linger for a moment as she licked around his earlobe.

Lamont took a moment to compose himself as Blaze walked away.

He never did get used to her sensual personalities, but part of him did enjoy it too. Stevens once asked him which of Blaze’s personality he liked best.He said he liked them all equally.He loved everything about each one of her separate personalities. He thought that going out with a schizophrenic was pretty cool, because it was like having a dozen girlfriends and it kept things from getting boring.

Lamont was also worried about his best friend, Mark.Mark had always been a bit shy and everyone had thought that he would eventually grow out of it, but this did not seem to be happening.If anything he was getting worse.All he did was throw himself into his technological projects.

Everyone on the team had suffered some type of physiological problem due to the extensive genetic engineering that they were all subjected to. Ironically, everyone considered him to be Mark’s best friend, but even Lamont felt distant from him. He always felt that Mark was holding back his feelings from him. He wouldn’t admit that he even had a stuttering problem, even though he would lock up so tight around authority figures like Stevens and Francois that he couldn’t even get one word out sometimes, but when the two of them were alone Mark’s speech was almost perfect. Lamont knew that he would have to confront his friend on this issue one day, but didn’t want to rock the boat with the unknown future looming on the horizon.

Lamont was torn from his thoughts by the sound of someone clearing his throat. It was Hector. Lamont’s teammate was all set for a night on the town with his shiny silver shirt and jeans.He nervously fiddled with his short, spiky hair as he spoke, Lamont, I just wanted to apologize for today. I know I already said that in front of everyone, but I’m really sorry.There’s no excuse for that. Lately, I’ve been having more trouble controlling my anger. Doc Mike’s been switching my meds, but it hasn’t been helping me much.

Lamont gave him hug with a firm pat on the back. Don’t worry about it, bro. No harm done. Wanna’ watch me beat Doc S?

Hector chortled, You’ve never beaten him yet and you’ve played at least once a week for the last ten years.

There’s always a first time, Lamont smirked.

I’ll be there… just in case. Hector winked.

The team had gathered in the recreation room. The recreation area, like the rest of the complex was arranged in a simple and clean fashion consisting of an off-white tile floor, off-white walls, two black sofas, three armchairs, a few reading lamps, a VR gaming station, a holo-television unit, and a glass table with six chairs.

As Lamont walked in Stevens was carefully lowering himself into his chair, leaning on Pete for support.Hector rummaged through the closest where they kept board games and various hobby supplies.

Pete set the board and pieces up as Lamont and Stevens stared silently at each other.Doc S is playing the black side.Lamont’s white. Let the game begin, he said with the gusto of a sports announcer.

Wait for us, two voices sounded in unison. It was Francois and Betty.

Lamont smiled to himself, trying to hide his joy from his opponent and remain as stoic faced as possible, just as Stevens had taught him.

The room was charged with electric excitement. These games had become something of an event. Stevens was an avid and successful chess player. In his youth he had won the right to represent the United States at the World Chess Championship in London. He emerged victorious, but never returned to defend his crown, opting instead to start medical school at Yale. Lamont could tell that Stevens regretted leaving the world of chess. These little expositions gave him a chance to relive his past glory he guessed. Lamont always thought that Mark would have been a better challenger than himself, but he removed himself from any unnecessary social situations.

The room fell silent as Stevens moved his pawn two spaces.Lamont mirrored his move.

The game went on for nearly an hour. Quite an achievement, since Lamont could tell that Stevens was not holding back, like he did when he taught him the game over ten years ago.

With a click of metal Stevens knocked down Lamont’s last rook with one of his pawns. The piece bounced off the cardboard playing area and landed on the glass table with an almost inaudible clang that seemed to resound through the room.

Stevens broke the deafening silence. Chess is a lot like life.Strategy, patience, and distraction utilized to outsmart your opponents. In essence all the same qualities are involved, but unlike life there are rules.Chess is easy compared to life. The team was used to Stevens spouting out such wisdom while playing. Lamont knew they came for his comments on life and chess almost as much as the game itself.

Lamont made a desperate move using his Queen.

Stevens sighed, breaking the vacuous silence that gripped the room. You’re using your most powerful piece to attack me, making it vulnerable. You should utilize your pawns and your other pieces more, because they are expendable. It takes a little more strategizing to lure your opponents out and distract them enough to capture with pawns, but otherwise you can lose your most important piece. In life that could be yourself or a loved one.He tapped his knight to Lamont’s Queen with unnaturally steady hands. I had you focused on mating my King, you must remember defense. You rely on the Queen too much offensively.

Lamont looked at the board.He only had a rook left.Both of his bishops were gone as well.He had most of his pawns left.Stevens had left them, since they were of little threat with their limited moves. All he had managed to capture was one Stevens’ knights, a rook, a bishop, and four of his pawns.

Lamont made a perfunctory move, stalling for time, unable to accept defeat.

Stevens slid his bishop across the table. Lamont saw it coming, but didn’t have any powerful pieces left to protect the King. With his Queen gone he knew this was the end.

Check-mate, Stevens’ words came upon Lamont like a deafening roar.

They shook hands, Well played, Lamont.I was playing to win. There are master players that couldn’t have kept me at bay that long. Your mistake was sacrificing your power pieces. You should have used your pawns to protect those pieces. That’s what they are there for. Most players don’t adequately use their pawns. They are sacrificial pieces and should be used as such.His tone was compassionate, but he seemed to be alluding to something else, Lamont’s job as a team leader. He would soon lead his team-members into combat. No, not Team-members, they were his friends.No, they were more than that, they were his family: Hector, Pete, Mark, and Betty.

Lamont let the advice sink in.

Betty consoled him for a few minutes before leaving for her room. Pete and Hector bounded down the hallway, their barely restrained libidos causing whooping laughter to explode off the granite walls as they raced to Pete’s car and a weekend of debauchery.Francois