Overdeveloped Amateurs Official

They didn’t attack. They just breathed. The air smelled of ozone and fear.

Leo, callsign Chimera, wiped a film of nano-sweat from his brow. He was seventeen. His body was a cartographer’s nightmare of hyper-developed musculature—deltoids that looked like cannonballs, a trapezius ridge that sloped into his neck like a mountain range, and quads so vast he couldn’t bring his knees together. He had never climbed a real staircase. He had never lifted a bag of groceries. But he could generate a 4,000-newton roundhouse kick, verified by LIDAR. overdeveloped amateurs

“One,” Priya whispered.

But he also knew that a week of feeling nothing was better than a lifetime of being a weapon for people who had never bled. They didn’t attack

“Priority strike to Nexus,” the AI said. Leo, callsign Chimera, wiped a film of nano-sweat

Then the failsafe engaged. The floor beneath them opened. And they fell into the dark.