The sound of silence brought Brown blinking to consciousness. Lewis was looking down at him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had pushed the HUD further up his head to allow his knuckles to massage his eyeballs. The rest of the squad were slowly stirring to consciousness, yawning and groaning in the process. Sergeant Lewis stretched, exposing his ribs and sucking in his stomach, and groaned as well. Brown's gut jumped, as he saw Lewis' body on full display. He wondered if the sergeant knew exactly how good-looking he was. He rubbed Fuchs' back to awaken him, and the thirteen-year old sighed, before his eyes flickered open. He looked around, disorientated, and accidentally dug his elbow into Brown's sternum, causing the private to gasp and suck in his breath, expanding his lungs.
"Ughh!" Brown grunted, as he had the wind knocked out of him. Fuchs immediately removed the perpetrating elbow, and began apologising profusely.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know! I..."
"Don't worry, Fritz. I'm not really hurt. Come on, there'll be plenty of time to sleep afterwards." He nudged Fuchs off himself, and rose, his stomach forming a six-pack as he returned to a sitting position without using his hands.
"God!" he screamed, as Lewis slapped a cold hand on his abdomen, jolting him to full consciousness.
"Glad that got you awake." Lewis grinned. The rest of the squad began hooting in laughter. Fuchs had not fully arisen yet, and rested his head on Brown's shoulder, trying to catch forty winks.
"Privates! File out!" Sergeant Lewis commanded.
The boy-marines resignedly complied, and exited the vehicle in order. Brown was the very last to exit, as he had entered first, and was being prodded on the back by Lewis, who muttered "Move, Michael. Before these punks get unruly."
Brown gasped as he stepped out. In front of him was an enormous A-10 Warthog. Its twin turbines had been replaced by afterburners, and its tail had been stabilised by support titanium. It lacked its full munitions; only the Gatling cannons remained. The weather had changed; it had fallen in temperature by a significant amount, and the occasional hailstone struck the privates on their bare skin, making them jump. Fuchs stepped closer to him, wanting to share the body heat.
"Flippin' `eck! That's one huge plane!" Lewis exclaimed, as he waited for the higher-ranked members of the squad to disembark. Brown now understood why it would take four hours, instead of the usual ten hour flight to get to Germany. That plane could probably fly nearly as fast as the speed of sound, he deduced.
"Privates, mount the transport!" Lewis barked. Brown rushed to the plane first, Fuchs in tow, eager to take advantage of Brown's soft skin as a pillow. The plane's doors had already been opened, and Brown stepped carefully up the stairway leading into the camouflaged plane. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he spotted two long benches at the rear of the plane. He walked to the very end and took a seat, fastening the seatbelts over his shoulders and around his waist. Fuchs hastened to sit beside him, and secured himself in a similar fashion. Lewis stood at the door, ushering squad members in. Brown noticed a pistol attached to his utility belt, and wondered if the sergeant had ever found a use for it out of combat before.
The higher-ranked members took seats opposite the privates; they looked much fresher than the rest of Brown's comrades. They looked around warily before they took their seats and whispered single-syllable words to each other. Brown rejoiced that he had been assigned Sergeant Lewis as his partner, and not any of the seemingly strict higher-ranked boys. The white haired boy was about to sit beside Brown, on the seat nearest to the rear, when Lewis barked "Hold up there, Silver!"
Brown wondered if the private's name really was Silver, or a nickname, judging by the sheen his hair gave. Silver raised an eyebrow at Brown, and patted him on his mole-infused chest, before moving away to another seat.
Lewis gave a "thumbs up" sign to the pilot, who was wearing red shoulder-pads, with a diamond encircled by an oval, signifying him as a airman. His body was bare below the shoulders like the rest of the pilots, and he lacked the self-regulating unit that Lewis and the other members of the squad possessed. Lewis hurried to the back the plane, and took the seat beside Brown. Fuchs was already dropping off to sleep, his head resting on Brown's shoulder and causing minor discomfort to the boy. He decided to turn his body toward Lewis, and allow Fuchs to rest his head on his shoulder blades. After a few seconds, he found the sensation unpleasant, and mimicked Silver's style, of allowing Fuchs to rest on his breast.
Lewis smiled, while shaking his head.
"I think he likes you, Michael." He said under his breath. "But don't tell him I said that. I'd lose my lovely reputation as the biggest "badass", as you Americans call it." He added. "Even to those guys." He motioned to the half-naked higher-ranked members of the squad, who were staring straight ahead. Brown heard a soft growling noise, and wondered if an animal was on board. He looked around, and Lewis burst out laughing.
"God, I'm so hungry." He rubbed his abdomen, running his fingers over his fourteen-year old six-pack. Brown smiled with amusement at the antics of the staff sergeant.
"Argh..." Lewis groaned, as his stomach lurched again. "I need to eat!" he said dreamily, drawing out a chocolate bar from the pouch attached to his utility belt. Brown's salivary glands began to water when he realised it was a Kinder-Bueno chocolate bar. He could not keep his eyes off Lewis, as the sergeant chewed his way through the bar, crunching it between his teeth. Finally, Lewis reached the last bit of the candy bar, and slowly moved it towards his mouth, eyes closed, mouth wide open. Brown almost could not bear the hunger and the temptation to snatch it out of his partner's hands, when suddenly Lewis grinned, opened his eyes, and said,
"Hungry, Mike? Here, have some chocolate. All you had to do was ask." He pressed the last bit of chocolate into Brown's right hand, and lay back against the cushioned harness of the plane, closing his eyes and nursing his stomach. Brown was furious at the way Lewis had tortured him with the candy bar. All that time, he was staring wide eyed at the sergeant, breathing in and out, drooling, when he could have asked for a piece. He crammed the chocolate bit into his mouth and savoured the taste for a long time, before he swallowed it. He looked around for a moment; the squad seemed to have fallen into a state of lethargy, even the higher-ranked boys were leaning on one another's shoulders. Silver had found the tanned blonde squad member from the APC and was talking animatedly to him, while the private seemed to be using his chest as a pillow.
He leant back, inwardly glad that Fuchs was here to share the body heat, along with Lewis, who appeared to be radiating it. He scratched Fuchs on the back, and the private sighed a little, leaning even more onto Brown. Lewis had lifted his arms and placed them behind his head, evidently trying to find some sleep. Brown stared at his partner, unable to tear his eyes off his wonderful physique. Freckles were etched all over Lewis' chest, and he even had a few moles on his abdomen, including one just beside his navel. Brown's gut lurched a few times as he admired Lewis' body. This, coupled with the exposure of Lewis' underarms and the form of his ribs, made Brown extremely tempted to touch the sergeant's body. He stayed the urge, and satisfied himself by rubbing his fingers over Fuchs' exposed back, feeling the sticky skin which indicated that sweat had dried, and gently massaging the German boy's shoulders, which caused Fuchs to groan and mutter softly in his sleep.
"Cayden."
"What?"
"Was I conscripted because my parents were killed by the terrorists?"
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, yes. You were. You see, what we're doing here is very illegal indeed, if there ever is such a word nowadays. You are being forced into this program, and although as blatant as it may seem, only a select amount of people are chosen for the gel. Not everyone out there is going to have the gel. Most are being trained to be soldiers to be used in the next decade, when they are physically fit. Forget what I said back then. You ARE going to have the gel injected into you, whether you like it or not. They're just waiting for you to grow to their standards."
"What sort of standards are they looking at?"
"When you become an adolescent. When the first stages of puberty strike you. You won't know when it's coming, but they will. The 21st Mechanised Infantry Regiment, or whatever you want to call it, is only a codename for your batch. Nobody knows we exist. Not until before they're killed, anyway. Our mission is not to engage in frontline combat, but it is to perform covert operations undercover wherever we are. Of course, we get much more rest than the other people in the army, but our operations place us at greater risk. You will undergo your training in Aldershot, in the United Kingdom. A former Special Air Service base has been altered to suit our requirements."
Brown nodded. The information was almost too much to process. How could he, regular schoolboy only a few days ago, become a secret agent for a multinational power? And in only a few months as well! Why were these people so interested in him and his body? He glanced down at his own torso, partially blocked by Fuchs' slowly rising and falling body.
There was nothing vaguely interesting in his body, he thought to himself. He looked with distaste at his developing breast, and faint six-pack. He knew that they paled in comparison to Lewis' half-developed, but perfect body. He decided to shift his gaze onto the German teen, who was slumbering on him, and decided to join him. He fell asleep almost immediately, the air-conditioner of the plane pleasantly cooling him.
He gasped awake as Lewis' hand lightly descended on his shoulder. The plane was devoid of any noise and movement, so Brown was sure the A-10 had landed without any difficulties. The rest of the team was in various states of dishevel ness or in slumber. "Welcome to Aldershot, fellas." Lewis announced to the waking boys.
"I thought we were going to Munich!" Silver said loudly.
"That was a cover-up. I'll explain later." Lewis unbuckled the seatbelt and stumbled out of the plane into the open grassy plains of Great Britain. Brown groaned and nudged Fuchs awake, while the rest of the team followed Lewis out into the field. The autumn wind blew very strongly over all of the boys, and Brown shivered once more in the cold air. Lewis beckoned to the troops.
"Follow me." He headed through the long grass of the meadows to a bunker that was hidden so well that any ordinary person would not have been able to find it unless they knew exactly where it was. He rapped on the metal door and it whined open, seemingly of its own accord. Brown was surprised; he had not expected such a low-levelled in technology structure to still be utilised. He was expecting the high-tech computers and tracking systems that he had seen in the recruitment office for the past three days.
Lewis headed inside, not bothering to order the team to follow him. The higher-ranked members filed in after him, and Brown hastened to enter the complex before he became too cold. The covert operations team gripped themselves with their arms to warm themselves up. Lewis appeared from a side door with five combat jackets and tossed them to the new members.
"Here, wear those until we can find shirts that suit your size." He said.
He turned and walked into another room. Brown could hear him busy fussing over some contraption, and waited with the other members, shivering slightly. He donned the brown camouflaged jacket, zipped it up, and immediately felt warmer. These were old military-grade jackets from the time of the USA and UK Coalition, from the time the United Nations had the power to perform peacekeeping operations. This must have been some derelict, disused outpost of a military force. Military Intelligence, that is. A hand tapped him on the shoulder.
He looked around, expecting Fuchs. Instead, there was an oriental boy, with spiked up black hair, matching black eyes that were shaped in the orthodox Chinese form and tanned brown skin. The insignia that stated his rank could clearly be seen on his chest, as he had not zipped up the jacket, merely allowing it to hang over his shoulders. He had a slightly muscular torso, but was devoid of moles and freckles of any sort.
"Hey there. I'm Joshua."
"Hi, Joshua, I'm Michael. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm good. I'm a little jet-lagged, though. They had to fly me all the way from London to the USA and back here again. I wonder what's going to happen to us."
He spoke with a near-perfect British accent, rivalling Lewis', except that he had a more educated tone to it, while Lewis used various slang that signified that he was born in the East end of London.
"You have a very British accent, you know?"
"So they say." He replied, not mentioning who "they" were. "I can't help it. I was born here, so I'm a British Born Chinese. My roots, of course, are in China, but I can't for the life of me remember where I've descended from. I would fail, miserably, as a good citizen of the Chinese People's Republic."
He grinned, exposing brilliantly white teeth. Brown liked him instantly. Unlike Fuchs, who was more of an introvert, Joshua was unafraid of expressing his opinion, and bridging connections. Joshua stretched himself, and leant against the stone wall of the bunker. Brown looked around, trying to memorise the features of the people with whom he would be planning operations, as well as participating in them. He recognised the ruddy-bodied blonde, which had leant onto Silver, the platinum-blonde headed boy, who was idly chatting with Fritz, who looked uncomfortable at being asked questions, the jacket zipped up to the top.
There was a sudden clang of machinery, and radiators hummed on. Lewis strode out of the room, looking obviously pleased with himself. His body was mildly splattered with slicks of oil.
"There! The radiators are functioning perfectly now. Feel free to remove your jackets, but bear in mind that they are your responsibility now. You don't have the implants that I, or your "senior" members have, so it will be cold when you step outside. Very cold. Especially since it's in the middle of winter here. This is not the United States, privates. It will be cold, I repeat. Now, this bunker was used by the SAS... that's Special Air Service to you, the special tactics team of the UK that used to hold this country together. Now, they're just a bunch of old sods sitting round a desk in a computer room." He paused for breath. "This facility contains all the necessities that you will need. First of all, this is your training camp for the next few months, and also your home. You will learn how to fight, handle Coalition weaponry efficiently, develop the instincts of a competent agent, and finally to plan and execute operations successfully. It will not be easy."
He clapped his hands.
"Time to settle down. Warrant Officer Harrison here will show you your living quarters, and there you will make room for yourselves. There are only seven beds, so you'll need to choose your sleeping partners, if you feel so inclined. Any private who does not have a bed and a sleeping partner will bunk on the ground." He pointed to the dusty, damp floor of the compound. "I mean it. Harrison, if you please."
Warrant Officer Harrison, a red-head with green eyes, with a five-foot three frame, beckoned to the boys, and they lined up behind him. He led them down the corridor, and made a left turn. Brown followed obediently, and tailed Joshua into a room at the end of the passage. Despite what Lewis said, there were only four beds. This meant that each and every person had to have a sleeping partner. Thinking fast, he decided to ask someone, anyone, if they would be willing to share a bed with him. He certainly did not want to end up on the floor, as there were ten people and four beds.
Two shouts of "Michael!" were heard, as Fuchs and Joshua called out to him. The two boys stared at each other, green eyes challenging black. Fuchs timidly turned to Michael and said uncertainly
"Please...?" while Joshua repeatedly jabbed a thumb at his chest, waving at Brown. He was in a dilemma here. He certainly did not want to hurt Fuchs' feelings, as the boy would probably end up on the floor with his introvert characteristic. On the other hand, he found Joshua an extremely likeable person, and most certainly did not want to end the friendship with such a harsh note. What was he to do?
"Michael." Lewis' voice startled him from behind. He turned around and faced the staff sergeant with a stiff back.
"Why don't all three of you sleep in one bed? There's more than enough space." Brown nodded. "I'll probably share one with Matthew Silver. Someone's going to have to keep him in check, or he'll probably burn down this entire place. Central Command wouldn't be too pleased with me." He chuckled.
"Excellent!" Joshua launched himself at the bed, throwing his jacket at the bedpost. There was no inherent response from Fuchs, but Brown knew that he was pleased.
"Alright, people." Lewis' voice echoed strangely around the small room. "You've got till six o clock Greenwich Meridian time, to do whatever you want. Then, we'll have the icebreaking session. A very good idea would be to start introducing yourselves during the..." he glanced at his eyepiece. "Three hour break you have. Now, I'm going to have a cup of tea with your training officers." He strode out of the room, boots making a clopping sound as he walked down the passage.
Brown sighed. He felt extremely tired, although he had had a rest in the plane. He removed the jacket, exposing his body to cooler air, which he revelled in, and hung it over Joshua's jacket, before sinking slowly onto the bed. Fuchs followed suit, carefully avoiding touching him. He laughed.
"Don't worry, Fritz. I'm not gonna kill you if you touch me. Well, not unless you've got some poison hidden in your skin." Fuchs smiled nervously, and shyly stroked Brown's arm, which sent them both laughing again. Joshua rolled over, oriental body exposed to Brown's view. He gazed with curiosity at the Chinese boy lying with his hands behind his head. Everything seemed so... smooth, compared to his body. Joshua had a hole in his stomach, which announced the presence of his navel, and a slight bulging of his abdominal muscles.
Brown looked at Joshua's chest, which was clearly developed. He gazed at the Chinese boy's nipples, and nearly let out a gasp of amazement. In the area where there were supposed to be the nipple, surrounded by the areola, there was a cleft! Before he had time to marvel at this spectacle, Joshua opened his eyes, and spotted Brown's expression. He looked down at his own chest, and laughed.
"I've always wondered why I've got inverted nipples. It's not that I'm obese or anything like that. It's really weird." Brown nodded, and slowly extended his finger to touch them. Joshua made no sign of protest as Brown slowly stroked the area around the "hole", and admired the firmness of the breast.
"Wow... do you actually feel anything?" Brown asked, as he ran his finger over the cleft. Joshua shook his head.
"Not at all. Not unless you touch inside it." The oriental boy blushed, his tanned skin being made even darker. Fuchs leant over, eyes wide open with curiosity. The fluorescent lights flickered momentarily, stopping all chatter for a split second. Fuchs nudged Brown on the shoulder, and pointed to Silver, who was striding nonchalantly toward them. The platinum-haired boy rested his five foot three frame on the bed post, skin making contact with the metal, and forming goose bumps. He had small eyes, which were brilliantly blue, along with a long nose and almost invisible pink lips, which supplemented the characteristic of being "angelic". He grinned at them, and sat at Joshua's legs.
"Hi there! I'm Matthew. Matthew Silver, but you probably know that already. The sergeant's been on my case for the whole day. I'd be surprised if you didn't know me."
"I'm Michael, nice to meet you. This is Fritz." He motioned to the dark-haired German boy sitting beside him. Fuchs waved a timid hand at him, and looked down immediately.
"Michael, Fritz. Pleasure." He replied. "And who's this?" he poked the dozing Chinese boy in the stomach, causing a tensing of the muscles.
"Oh, he's Joshua. I don't know his last name."
"It's Leeeee..." the prone boy groaned.
"Excuse me?"
"Joshua Lee. I don't have a middle name."
"Oh. Nice to meet you, Joshua Lee." Brown grinned. Lee tried to sit up to extend greetings, but Silver pushed him back down to the bed, hand on his stomach.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't wanna interrupt your trip to la-la land." He chuckled. "Hey, Martin! Get over here!" he called out. A few of the senior members (although they did not look a year older than thirteen/fourteen) frowned at the sudden breach of the quiet chattering. The blonde boy with a flushed body hurried over from the conversation that he was involved in with three of the senior members.
"Meet my twin." He motioned to the slightly panting youth. Brown gaped. They looked extremely different from each other. He had originally thought them to be friends, but he was mistaken. Even though Martin had a different body from Matthew's, he still had the arched eyebrows and the round chin of his brother.
"Don't look so surprised." Martin said. "We're fraternal twins. Mom popped out two eggs instead of one, so I gotta make do with this idiot over here. You know, he was born thirty seconds before me, thank god. Maybe being the second one out gifted me with more intelligence. And do you know..."
He was cut off as Matthew pulled him onto the bed viciously and began digging his fingers into his ribs, creating a tiny "bed-quake", as its springs groaned from the pressure that Martin was exhibiting on it. He let out silent peals of laughter, mouth wide open, as Matthew relentlessly dug into his torso.
"I-I-I'm gonna.. ki-ki-Kill you!" Martin tried to voice out, as his body disallowed him to function normally.
Eventually Matthew ceased the attack on his brother, and left him panting, atop Lee's body. The contrast of colour between the two bodies; Asian and Caucasian, were almost non-existent, Martin's body being extremely flushed as well. Lee blinked his eyes at the red shoulder that was directly in his line of sight.
"Do you live near a beach or something, Martin? You're really, really..." he struggled to find the words, and settled for "Dark." Martin flinched.
"Oh, I dunno. I've been like that ever since I can remember."
"You wanna know why? It's coz he's always stressing and stressing about little things, like when you're in the bathroom, taking a crap, you stress, and your whole face goes red. Well, my bro's different. He stresses all the time. You can see that, eh?" he motioned to his brother's red torso. Martin glared at him.
"Very funny, Matt."
Fuchs let out a sudden yawn, and blinked his eyes, clearing them of tears. He looked around, and went red.
"Sorry."
"What? You're saying sorry because you yawned? Get outta here!" Matthew exclaimed. Fuchs permitted himself a small grin, before he settled on the bed beside Lee, once again subtly resting his chest on the unsuspecting shoulder of the sleepy Chinese boy.
"So where are you all from?" he asked the blonde brothers.
"Oh, we're from Kiwiland." Martin replied. Amidst raised eyebrows, he sighed.
"Fine. We're from New Zealand. North Island." He referred to the islands as if they were close to one another, whilst, in reality, the South Island had had half its body blown off by a nuclear device planted by one of the terrorists from the same group that killed all their parents.
"Right. You ever gone surfing before?"
Surfing was an old sport, which was discontinued due to the high toxicity of the sea. The environment had the governments of the developed countries to blame. China, being one of the world's most eminent manufacturers, siphoned over three hundred million gallons of waste into the oceans. This was after the discovery of the use of platinum to dramatically enhance the productivity of machines, but which also meant that the pollution created was tenfold.
"Oh, we actually went last year, change of subject, tsk tsk." Matthew said, before he stared briefly into space.
"Our parents were alive then. It was during December, a nice hot summer. We went to a marine park with artificially created waves. I had so much fun there. And then, mom and dad had to go and watch that stupid cricket match. I wish I could..." his face went red with exertion. "I wish I could tear out those bastards' hearts and feed it to the dogs. Why did this happen to us?" he ranted, viciously slandering the Liberalist terrorist cell.
"Matt, take it easy." Martin gripped his shoulder.
"We could have had a good life. All that's about to change now."
"It will be better. I promise. This place, the sergeant, all of them aren't as bad as I thought they were. I even spoke with our leaders, and they said that we'd be able to live normal lives, except when they call us to do missions. We'll get to go to school, and we'll get our life back. Isn't that what mom and dad would want us to do?"
"You're right, as always." Matthew sighed. "Geez, I guess all that stressing does a world of good for you."
"Shaddap, you idiot." Martin snapped. "I'm trying to comfort you here."
"So who else is joining your bed?" Brown asked.
"Oh, my partner." Matthew immediately replied. "His name's Mark Roberts." He motioned to a black-haired boy, who was conversing animatedly with the rest of the higher-ranked "squad" members. Curiously enough, Brown was unable to ascertain as to which ethnicity the boy belonged to. He had the high cheekbones of the European people, but there was something amiss about the shape of the face and the nose. Oh, never mind. He would figure that out after dinner. Now was the time to rest.
"You know what, Matt? Martin?" he gave a genuine yawn. "I'm really sleepy as well. I think I'll take a little nap before dinner."
"Yeah? Okay, then. We'll see you just now, then." They hopped off the bed and rejoined the rest of the team, contributing to the ongoing conversation.
Fuchs lifted himself on his elbows immediately, a hopeful look in his eye as Brown lay on the bed, right arm rubbing against Lee's ribs. He gazed longingly at Brown's torso, hoping and hoping for the offer that he dare not make. Brown suddenly spotted Fuchs' expression and laughed.
"Oh, come on, Fritz! You don't even need to ask."
"What...? I wasn't gonna ask for anything..." Fuchs began earnestly, but trailed off Brown glared at him, making him quail.
"Come on. Just lie down."
Fuchs very slowly rested his chest on Brown's body, and could not resist letting out a small sigh of relief as his chest once again was devoid of any irritation and pain. He adjusted himself so that his torso was perpendicular to Brown's.
"Thanks, Mike." The German boy groaned. "You don't know how much..."
"Shh... I'm trying to sleep. I know what you're gonna say anyway."
Lee mumbled a few words in his sleep as Brown eventually managed to fall asleep amidst the talking and laughing of his peers. Fuchs occasionally shifted, sighed, and groaned, as sleep moved him, making the bulges of his chest and stomach apparent against Brown's torso.
He awoke with a jolt, bedsprings creaking. For a split-second, he wondered where he was, but a small grunt along with a weight on his chest brought him back to his surroundings. He had unconsciously laid his arm over Fuchs' body, and was hugging him as he would a bolster. A brown arm across his chest announced Lee's presence, and that he was still deep in slumber.
"Time's up!" Lewis' crisp voice echoed through the room. Fuchs started violently, tensing his body. The dark haired boy rolled over onto the bed with a groan, rubbing his eyes. Lee stretched himself, sighing with release. Lewis' face appeared above Brown suddenly, with a slight grin on his face.
"Don't make me give you the `cold treatment' again, Mike." Lewis warned. Brown's eyes widened and he scrambled to a sitting position, placing his hands on his torso to stop Lewis from touching his body with his hands. To no avail, however. Lewis pressed his palm onto his back, behind his stomach, and he yelped with the extremely cold sensation, arching his back forward and attempting to shove Lewis' hand away. He then felt Lewis' other hand press onto his front and howled with anguish as he tried in vain to escape. Fuchs and Lee chuckled as they watched him suffer his torment.
"We're going to have tea in a couple of minutes. There won't be any radiators in the room where we're eating, so wear your jackets if you don't want to freeze. I mean it." He said, in a final tone.
Lee still lay on the bed, issuing shallow breaths in sync with the rising and falling of his chest. Brown patted him on the shoulder, and he awakened immediately with a gasp. They followed Lewis down the corridor into an unusually large room that looked too big to fit in an underground bunker.
"This will be your last day of rest for a long time." Lewis announced to the team. "You too." He motioned to the senior team members. "Your training begins after today. Now eat."