Monday morning dawned bright and clear, the early spring day that adorned Moon High's recruitment brochures. Jessica hitched her backpack higher as she shouldered through the double doors, where the percussion of metal lockers and teenage chatter hit her like a physical wave.

  "Jessica!" Camella's black ponytail bounced as she waved from across the hall, uniform crisp against the chaos. "You bringing that new tumbling sequence to practice?"

  Jessica's lips curved upward automatically, muscle memory from years of performance. "Wouldn't miss the chance to show Tiffany up."

  But as she threaded through the packed hallway, unease prickled across her scalp like static before a storm. Her heightened senses detected shifts in the atmosphere—sweat tinged with adrenaline, breathing patterns quickened by fear, heartbeats syncopated with anxiety.

  Fragments of whispered conversations drifted to her ears.

  "—totally freaked out—"

  "—like some kind of monster—"

  "—red eyes, I swear—"

  Jessica's insides twisted like a wrung cloth, acid rising at the back of her throat as the whispers about red eyes reached her ears. She quickened her pace, nearly colliding with Kevin as he rounded the corner, papers cascading from his arms.

  "Whoa, protect the evidence!" Kevin steadied himself, fingertips pushing his glasses back into place. Even in the crush of identical hoodies and branded backpacks, he popped like a paint splatter on a blank canvas. “Did you find the red monster?”

  "No," Jessica murmured, eyes darting to check for cheerleading witnesses. "Have you?”

  Kevin shrugged. "No, but I heard three more sightings since Friday." He thrust a wrinkled map into her hands. "Each attack happened within fifty yards of places Mark Turner frequents."

  Jessica's eyebrows knitted together as she traced the red X's with her fingertip, her pulse quickening with each connection she made. "That's... suspiciously specific."

  "Precisely." Kevin tapped the paper where the marks clustered. "The convenience store where he buys those protein monstrosities. The park where Coach runs extra drills. Behind the theater where he and Tiffany had made out before the cops caught them. It’s like the monster knows his every movement.”

  "Or he is the monster," Jessica countered, though the fine hairs on her arms stood at attention.

  Kevin nodded. "You saw him Friday. Those eyes. That's beyond normal, even by our particularly flexible definition of the term."

  "Keep it down," she hissed, shoving the map back at him. "We need solid evidence before we jump to conclusions."

  "Working on it," Kevin replied, stuffing the papers into his weathered messenger bag. "Library after practice? I hacked the feeds and sent them to Salina.”

  Jessica hesitated, gaze sliding down the hall where Tiffany and Amber huddled by the water fountain, heads bowed in conspiracy. "Can't. Championship rally practice runs late."

  "Right," Kevin said, his face a careful mask. "The pyramid awaits."

  Before Jessica could respond, the first bell shrieked, sending students scattering like startled fish. Kevin flashed a two-fingered salute and melted into the current, leaving Jessica with the familiar ache lodged beneath her ribcage—the weight of the life she'd abandoned.

  *****

  The sun hammered the practice field that afternoon, merciless and blinding. Sweat trickled down Jessica's spine as she balanced in the pyramid's second tier, muscles locked to maintain the formation. Across the field, the football team ran drills, their grunts punctuating the humid air.

  "Higher, Jessica! Lock those elbows!" Tiffany barked from the ground, her gaze surgical in its precision.

  Jessica strained upward, muscles quivering under the strain. From her elevated position, she commanded a perfect view of the football field—and Mark Turner as he prowled the sidelines, snapping orders at his teammates.

  Something in his movements set off alarms in Jessica's mind. Mark's usual catlike grace had vanished, replaced by jerky spasms that reminded Jessica of a malfunctioning robot. His voice carried across the field, razor-edged and raw as he berated a freshman who'd fumbled a pass.

  "What a world-class jerk," Camella muttered beside her, sweat glistening on her forehead.

  "Mark?" Jessica whispered, careful to keep her position steady. "He seems... different."

  "Different is generous," Camella replied through gritted teeth. "Nearly decapitated Jordy in third period just for borrowing a pencil."

  Jessica's focus narrowed on Mark as he stalked past a teammate, shoulders bunched like a predator's. Through her enhanced senses, she detected an acrid chemical tang that scorched her sinuses—synthetic, alien, wrong.

  "Hold firm!" Tiffany commanded. "Three, two, one... and down!"

  The pyramid dissolved with choreographed precision. As Jessica's feet reconnected with the earth, chaos erupted from the football field. Mark had pinned Ryan Petalski against the goalposts, one forearm pressing into the larger boy's throat. Ryan's face had begun to purple.

  "You tried to sabotage me!" Mark snarled, spittle flying from his contorted lips.

  "Get off me, psycho!" Ryan clawed at Mark's arm. "It was a clean block!"

  "Break it up, NOW!" Coach Harris thundered, sprinting toward them.

  Before he could intervene, Mark's fist connected with Ryan's jaw with a sickening crack that carried across the field. The linebacker crumpled, blood spattering the white goalpost. Coach Harris seized Mark by his practice jersey, yanking him backward.

  "Turner! Principal's office, RIGHT NOW!"

  Mark tore free with unnatural strength, chest heaving like bellows. For an instant—so brief Jessica might have missed it without her enhanced vision—crimson light flared behind his pupils, identical to the glow she'd glimpsed at Friday's game. Then Mark spun and stormed off the field, leaving divots in the turf with each furious step.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Oh my god," Amber breathed beside Jessica. "Tiffany's going to implode."

  On cue, Tiffany's voice sliced through the stunned silence. "Practice is OVER! Showers, NOW!"

  The cheerleaders scattered, but Jessica remained rooted, tracking Mark's retreat. He veered away from the main building, bee-lining toward the abandoned auxiliary gym.

  "Coming?" Mia asked, water bottle clutched to her chest.

  Jessica shook her head. "Left my phone in the gym earlier. Catch you later."

  Before Mia could respond, Jessica set off across the field, measuring her pace to appear casual despite the urgency thrumming through her veins. Every instinct—both human and lupine—howled danger.

  *****

  The auxiliary gym enveloped Jessica in tomblike silence, harsh fluorescents casting corpse-pale light across neglected equipment. She slipped inside, rubber soles whispering against the floor. The chemical reek she'd detected earlier saturated the air here, mingled with the coppery notes of adrenaline and raw fear.

  The crash of metal against concrete jolted her pulse into overdrive. Jessica edged toward the sound, plastering herself against the cinder-block wall as she peered around the doorframe.

  Mark stood hunched in the center of the weight room, his body convulsing in violent spasms. Veins protruded beneath his skin like dark rivers, pulsing with each labored breath. He gripped a bench press bar with such force the metal warped beneath his fingers, emitting a sound halfway between a growl and a sob.

  "Mark?" Jessica stepped into view, instinct overpowering caution. "What's happening to you?"

  He whirled, and Jessica's breath solidified in her lungs. Mark's face had transformed—veins bulged beneath skin flushed an unnatural red, and his pupils had expanded into black pools that swallowed any trace of humanity.

  "Get out," he rasped, words slurring as though his tongue had swollen. "Can't... control... much longer..."

  Jessica inched forward, palms raised in the universal gesture of peace. "Let me help. Whatever this is—"

  "No!" Mark slammed his fist into the nearest locker. Metal crumpled like tissue paper, the door ripping clean off its hinges. "Need... more…”

  Before Jessica could react, Mark lunged toward the weight rack and seized a barbell loaded with massive plates. Jessica's mind calculated automatically—at least 400 pounds. Impossible for any ordinary human to lift without mechanical assistance.

  Yet Mark hoisted it overhead with one fluid motion, muscles rippling unnaturally beneath skin now flushed the color of fresh blood. Veins pulsed visibly at his temples, throbbing in time with his accelerated heartbeat.

  "Mark, set it down," Jessica commanded, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "You're going to tear your muscles apart."

  Mark's gaze locked on her, a flicker of recognition penetrating the rage. For a heartbeat, Jessica thought she'd breached the monster's defenses. Then his pupils expanded impossibly wider, consuming the last flecks of humanity.

  "Too late," he snarled, and hurled the barbell earthward.

  Jessica dove aside, her supernatural reflexes barely saving her from being crushed. The barbell struck with foundation-shaking force, concrete fracturing with a sound like a gunshot. Chips of cement peppered her exposed skin, one slicing a thin line across her cheekbone.

  Mark stared at the destruction he'd wrought, horror momentarily eclipsing rage. "What's happening to me?" The question emerged thin and childlike.

  Jessica eased to her feet, maintaining a distance between them. "Mark, whatever you're taking—it's altering your biochemistry. Let me help before it's too late."

  For a breath, vulnerability cracked Mark's monstrous facade—the frightened teenager trapped inside. Then his expression hardened into resolve, and he backed toward the exit.

  "Need to fix it," he muttered, gaze unfocused. "Need to restore the balance."

  He bolted before Jessica could stop him, footsteps receding down the corridor.

  "Jessica!" Kevin's voice echoed from the hallway.

  He burst into the weight room, Salina on his heels. Both froze at the scene of carnage—the mangled locker, the spiderweb fractures in the concrete, the scattered weights.

  "Holy hell," Salina whispered, kohl-rimmed eyes wide. "Mark did this?"

  "How'd you find me?" Jessica asked, probing the cut on her cheek.

  "We tracked the Incredible Hulk," Kevin gestured toward the hall. "Figured you might need backup."

  Salina crouched by the crater, tracing its jagged edges. "This transcends steroid rage, Jessica. Whatever's corrupting Mark, it's something new."

  "No kidding," Jessica dabbed at the blood on her cheek. "He tossed 400 pounds like it was styrofoam. And those eyes... pure predator, nothing human left."

  Kevin produced his phone, fingers dancing across the screen. "I've been investigating those attacks on the internet again. The witness accounts match what we just witnessed—inhuman strength, erratic behavior, reddish skin tone."

  "So, he is the creature?" Jessica asked, though certainty had already settled in her gut. “But he doesn’t have any red skin.”

  "Not now," Kevin replied. "But the question is: what transformed him?"

  Salina rose, brushing concrete dust from her black jeans. "Whatever it is, it's accelerating. He's losing his grip on humanity."

  Jessica's mind assembled the puzzle pieces—Mark's explosive strength and speed, his episodic rage, the alien chemical stench that clung to him like a second skin.

  "He said he needed to 'fix it,'" she recalled. "Like he recognizes he's becoming something inhuman."

  Kevin's phone chimed, and he inhaled sharply. "I think I found our smoking gun." He turned the screen toward them. "Hacked the school's security footage from last week. Watch."

  Jessica and Salina huddled around the small screen. The grainy image showed the boys' locker room, deserted except for a lone figure—Mark, positioned before his open locker. As they watched, he extracted a small vial containing luminous crimson liquid from his gym bag.

  "What is that?" Salina whispered.

  On screen, Mark glanced furtively over both shoulders before rolling up his sleeve. With practiced movements betraying repetition, he filled a syringe from the vial and plunged the needle into his forearm. His body seized immediately, back arching as though electrocuted, before he collapsed against the lockers, gasping for air.

  "There's a pattern," Kevin added grimly, swiping to another clip. "Before every game. Each practice session. He's been injecting that stuff for weeks."

  The footage revealed multiple identical scenes—Mark, isolated, administering the mysterious serum. With each successive video, his reaction intensified, his recovery time lengthened.

  "That substance must be rewriting his DNA," Jessica said, dread coiling in her stomach. "And the changes are becoming permanent."

  "We need to identify the compound," Salina insisted. "And its source."

  Kevin nodded, tucking away his phone. "His father works at PharmaTech, doesn't he? The pharmaceutical research facility on the forest perimeter?"

  "Executive scientist," Jessica confirmed, recalling the sleek glass building she passed during her moonlight runs. "You think his father engineered this... transformation serum?"

  "It's our starting point," Kevin replied. "But first priority: locate Mark before he hurts someone else—or himself beyond repair."

  Jessica surveyed the devastation surrounding them, and the implications crystallized. If Mark had indeed become the red creature terrorizing Moon Valley, they faced something exponentially more dangerous than adolescent rage. A being capable of lifting 400 pounds effortlessly could inflict catastrophic damage to anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

  "We divide and conquer," she decided. "Kevin, dig deeper into PharmaTech's current projects. Salina, track down Tiffany—she might know Mark's hiding places when he's distressed."

  "What about you?" Salina asked, already moving toward the exit.

  Jessica's gaze returned to the shattered concrete, resolve hardening like steel in a forge. "I'll shadow Mark, make sure he doesn't destroy himself—or anyone else."

  As her friends vanished down the corridor, Jessica closed her eyes, extending her senses beyond human limitations. The acrid chemical signature lingered in the air currents, mixed with sweat, blood, and primal fear. Drawing a deep breath, she locked onto Mark's trail, ready to follow wherever it led.

  Whatever creature Mark Turner was becoming, Jessica possessed unique qualifications to confront it. After all, she understood better than most what it meant to harbor a monster beneath one's skin, fighting for release.