Sam Hyde's Intel

A little over two months had passed since Mandrew and his group arrived at the training facility, and their changes were incredulous.

Under the constant tempering of military training—and the more prominent gene altering effects of the Super Soldier Formula—their physiques had miraculously evolved.

From their heads to their toes, the entirety of their body was toned with muscles. All of them were qualified to partake in the Mr. America contest, except maybe Ivan Rodriguez.

Of course, the SS Formula had much stronger effects than just toning their muscles. Their skin was stronger, more flexible, and not even a knife slashed across their body would leave a mark. Beneath their skin, their flesh and bones had strengthened, nearing the level of steel.

Internally, their organs operated beyond the levels of the ordinary man. For instance, they could hold their breath for over an hour. Furthermore, they needed barely an hour of sleep per week to operate.

Considering all these changes, they couldn't help but cast weird glances at Sam Hyde. After all, he had consumed far more SS Formula than any of them; they could only speculate for how long.

All this while, Mandrew and the others pondered silently, 'We should start receiving some actual training soon, right?'

Sure enough, Sam Hyde headed in their direction accompanied by the pitter-pattering of his unhurried footsteps, while him his overgrown bestial body cast a shadow, its monstrous form echoing his movements with a horrid fascination.

"It's time," Sam Hyde started, his visage glowing with intense interest. "You've all experienced the wondrous effects of this formula, and today you will begin specialized combat training."

Sam's eyes locked onto Mandrew before moving on to the next, and so on. Regardless of who it was, each of them felt shaken up by the sparkling glare in his eyes.

Ever so innocent should this sparkling be, if not for the palpitations of the growing blood vessels in his cornea. This was one of many possible side effects caused by the SS Formula—interstitial keratitis.

Naturally, Mandrew and his group were unaware of what possible effects this formula had. Even the professionals behind this formula were unsure of every side effect, considering the strict supply and limited range of test subjects.

Taking into account their limited consumption, Mandrew figured they wouldn't reach anywhere near Sam Hyde's level of "evolution," and he feverishly thanked God for that!

Sam continued promptly, "You know, anybody can use the gun. It's quick, silent, efficient… and in the hands of someone like me, quite frankly, devastating at long range."

"But… I prefer something a bit more—personal." Sam paused suddenly, his smile widening as blood bubbled from between his teeth into a froth-like substance and even leaking from the seven apertures of his head, "That's why I like the knife."

The atmosphere was dead silent as the others struggled to carry out even the most basic of functions such as breathing, with nothing but Sam Hyde's eerily hallowed voice to act as proof that sound still existed in what felt like an otherwise vacuum-sealed space.

"I like to look into his eyes, as I twist it deeper… and deeper… watching the life drain out of him. And then I just smile—stabbing him with my knife."

Mandrew felt like an explosion went off inside his head as Sam continued to speak, his words like tiny shrapnel, tearing at his mental state.

Just when they thought it was going to get worse—

"And, uh, I think I'd make a great addition to your team!"

Mandre was aghast, this man had nary a single thing right with him.

He was simply… simply insane!

No, he was well beyond the realm of insane! The madness in his eyes, the emptiness in his voice… This man was devoid of any and all emotion, and even the slightest bit of what remained of his reasoning seemed to be teetering on the verge of collapse.

He was a time bomb, a ticking time bomb.

And the worst part about this? They were stuck with him.

Mandrew and the others felt a deep sense of powerlessness, begrudging to say anything.

Sighing, Mandrew asked, "Sam, why do you want to join our team? We are kind of a suicide squad at this point… you know?"

Sam smiled whimsically, "I have to go. And with me on your team, your chances of survival are much higher. I also have some contacts in Afghanistan. There's a group of mercenaries in particular who will be of great aid to us on our mission."

Mandrew felt his inner curiosity was much stronger than his fear, pushing him to reiterate, "Alright… but why do you want to go with us?"

Pressing his lips together, Sam Hyde took a moment to collect his thoughts as he fidgeted his hands together. Pulling his thumb to his mouth, he started to bite his nail in irritation, "There's a man, not just any man, but Joe Rogan."

"Joe Rogan?" Mandrew asked in bewilderment.

"Yes, Joe Rogan. And yes, that Joe Rogan. He's in Afghanistan, well not just Afghanistan—according to the intelligence I've gathered, he's a head researcher in the nuclear facility"

"I know it's hard to believe, but this is much more than a simple nuclear facility. Well, erm, no nuclear facility is that simple, but you know what I mean. So, how about it? I have many connections over there and your chances of survival will be much higher with my assistance."

Without bothering with the others' opinions, Mandrew quickly agreed.

Yes, Sam was a time bomb and staying with him wasn't something Mandrew was interested in. But seeing the intense emotion that flickered in his pupils, like candles on the verge of blowing out, shooting him down right now would be setting that bomb off.

There was no other choice. Not to mention, there were plenty of benefits that outweighed the risk.