Chapter 22: Aggression

“Who are we?” Lance Corporal Brody screamed as Leo finished his snatch and jerk.

“Reapers!” Leo shouted back with a growl before easing the bar back down to the ground. The bar had two hundred fifty kilograms of weight on it and he had just finished the eleventh rep of his twentieth set. They’d been weight lifting all morning, pushing Leo’s newly enhanced musculature to its limit.

“What do we do?!?” Brody screamed as Leo finished his final snatch and jerk.

“Kill the bugs!” Leo screamed back, his arms feeling like noodles as he let the weights return to the ground with a loud thud.

Leo knew the weightlifting wasn’t strictly necessary – the nanites in his muscles were doing their job and increasing his muscle mass on their own – and he resented having to lift. He’d been ordered to the weight room, though, and he had to obey orders. Brody had explained to him Reapers were better than the rest, and it started with better training than the rest. Sure, the job the nanites did was ‘good enough’ – but Reapers weren’t satisfied with good enough.

Brody didn’t quite understand why Sarge had ordered him to personally train Gunter, but he figured the Sarge had his reasons. None of the other Reapers had gone through this – but there was something about the situation that told him Gunter wasn’t a normal recruit. He wasn’t sure what the plan was – but both the Sarge and the Lieutenant had done more than enough to earn his loyalty. If they wanted him to drive Gunter’s strength and fitness training, complete with idiotic slogans constantly chanted at him – then it was what he’d do.

“Let’s hit the bag,” Brody directed Leo.

Leo was tired. He didn’t want to do any more. He wouldn’t quit, though. He figured quitting’s what this was about – it was just like boot camp all over again. The assholes had to break him down before building him up. Well, they had another think coming – he wouldn’t break. Gunter was planning to show them he already had the right stuff.

He glanced at the mirror as he moved to the bag. The man he saw was barely recognizable. The nanites had ‘grown’ him another fifteen to eighteen centimeters and started upgrading his muscles. While he wasn’t yet the wall of muscle Brody was, he was definitely much bigger. The AIs had done good.

He reached the heavy bag and threw a hard punch at it, moving the bag slightly backwards.

“Weak,” Brody chided him. “Put your hips into it. Like this.”

Brody demonstrated, cocking his hips and then following through on the punch. The bag swung backward a good distance. He did that a few times, demonstrating how he got his hips involved in the punches and then had Leo try.

“Better,” Brody grunted as Leo started hitting the bag, using the new technique. “Who are we?!?”

“Reapers!” Leo grunted out the reply loudly.

“What do we do?!?” Brody yelled.

“We take what we want and shit out the rest!” Leo responded, driving his tired arms into the bag. He would not break. He would show this whole chicken-shit outfit what he was made of.

“Who are we?!?” Brody yelled again.

“Reapers!” Leo growled, slamming his fist against the bag again and again.

“Who are we better than?!” Brody screamed.

“EVERYONE!” Leo screamed right back, his arms beginning to be more of a blur. They’d been at this for hours, but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t quit. He’d show them – he’d show everyone.

“Good!” Brody barked. Strangely, he was beginning to enjoy this – maybe a little too much. “Now, pound the bag for thirty minutes and then go bang your bitches or get some chow or whatever. It’s almost noon – I want you back here at eighteen hundred hours to work out some more. Remember – Reapers work their ass off to be the best, we take what we want and shit out the rest.”

Brody felt stupid spouting the lame motto – but whatever the Sarge wanted, the Sarge would get. He didn’t see the big picture yet – but then, he wasn’t a big picture guy. There had to be a reason to work this guy to death – maybe he had shit for aggression or something and the Sarge figured he needed a boost. It didn’t matter – his was not to question why, his was but to do or die.

Shit. Now they had him thinking those stupid fucking slogans.

Leo worked himself up into a rage. He had to. He was tired and his muscles felt like jelly, but he couldn’t dare show any weakness. He had to show them he was better than all of them.

To help, he started putting faces on the bag - faces he wanted to pound. Those fucking Asian bitches of his – too stupid to do anything right. They’d just lain there last night, making him do all the work. Stupid fucking whores. They’d been better pieces of ass at the fucking pick-up.

Which was probably the problem. Now they’d been taken off Earth they thought they could slack off. Well, he’d show them how wrong they were. They were nothing but property now, not even worth a pot to piss in. He could fucking beat the shit out of them – first with his massive cock and then with his massive hands – and there wasn’t fuck-all they could do about it.

Then he imagined that pansy-ass motherfucker’s face on the bag and his punches got even harder, even faster. Calix. Even his name was fucking gay. Well, he’d show that motherfucker what was what. He’d beat the ever-loving shit out him – stomp him until he could barely fucking move. Then make the cocksucker watch as Leo fucked all his women, ruining them for that motherfucker forever.

Fuck that, maybe he’d bang Calix, too. The stupid cunt probably liked it up his poop-chute. He’d fuck the boy’s ass one last time, make the stupid fucking gay-ass motherfucker suck the shit off his cock one last time, before killing the bitch and taking all his whores.

Fire-pussy was next. He was gonna love pounding the shit out of her and then, when he’d finished ruining her pussy, he was going to choke her out while punching her face to mush. Say ‘no’ to him? Fuck her – she was going to die for that. She was going to die, and he’d fuck the shit out her sisters, too. He deserved all the young pussy.

He felt even better when he finished. He was barely fucking tired anymore. Fucking nanites were doing their job. He was un-fucking-stoppable. All the little pussies on this base better stay the fuck out of his way.

His dick was hard. Stupid fucking fire pussies – constantly teasing him and making his dick hard. He knew what they wanted, what they needed. Well, the time was coming – the time was coming soon – for them to get what they’d been craving. No fucking fudge-packer was going to stop him, either. Let the piss-ant try to sucker punch him now. He’d make sure there was nothing left for them to fucking sweep up. Mop up, maybe.

The AI announced when Leo was almost to the apartment. Although Leo didn’t know about it, it was one of the few concessions he had made. He’d allowed Jimin and Seoyeon access to the AI – so they could replicate food and clothes for his kids when he was gone – and to open any doors in the apartment except his. He’d even given them their own room – just in case he got tired of fucking them and wanted them out of his hair.

The twins weren’t stupid. Far from it, they were exceptionally bright. The first time Leo had left without them, they’d probed the AI to see what they could do with it. They were delighted when the AI had confirmed it could tell them when Leo was on his way back to the apartment and again when he was close. It allowed them to have his meals ready and be in their submissive positions by the time he walked through the door. They knew they just needed to endure and wait for some chance to escape.

Madeline, Leo’s ten-year-old daughter, felt sorry for the twins. She knew how her Dad could get – she and Travis, her four-and-a-half-year-old brother, had often been on the other end of his anger. He’d not bothered to hit her or Travis since he picked them up, but she knew it was only a matter of time. So, she felt sorry for the twins and tears filled her eyes when she saw their bruises or the strap marks on their backs and butts and legs but she was also happy it wasn’t her and her brother getting beat on any more.

Madeline also felt sorry for what her Dad had done to the twins. She thought they looked fine before, but her Dad had changed them in those terrible machines. They’d come out with red hair and green eyes. Looking at the twins, she shuddered to think what her Dad might do to her.

Leo wasn’t happy when he walked through the door and the twins were waiting for him on their knees, asses on their feet, arms held behind them and heads lowered. He had been looking forward to beating on them a bit, venting some of his fucking anger out on their red-fucking-heads.

He walked right by them, not saying a word, to the kitchen where he found a thick steak and some mashed potatoes waiting, a cool glass of whiskey on the rocks sitting in front. He touched the steak and potatoes. They were still hot, and he could tell by the ice cubes the whiskey was freshly poured.

It only angered him more. Fucking slopes, he started but realized he had to change his tune. They weren’t slopes anymore, they were redheads now.

FUCK! Leo screamed in his mind. The bitches can’t do anything right. He was fucking angry and looking for something wrong so he could punish them and beat the living fuck out of their asses – and they’d done everything right for once. This was fucking BULLSHIT!

His mood didn’t improve as he ate. The steak was done exactly right, the potatoes tasted like the ones he made at home and the whiskey burned as it went down his throat. It tasted like shit, but it was whiskey. The longer he went without finding something for which he could lash out at the twins, the angrier he got.