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Chapter I: Forewarning

"This is so boring!" Eli cried as he slammed the book shut. A cloud of dust rose from the withered pages, sending the brunette 9th grader into a coughing fit. Across from him sat Simon, whose reading was immediately disrupted by this outburst. He was blonde and slightly taller, two traits that Eli secretly envied, if only because Simon was more popular with the girls in their class.

Simon sighed, "Would you please be quiet? If Miss Liv hears you-"

"She'll do what? Send me to the office?" Eli sneered. "I hope she does! We've been here for two hours looking for stupid books for her stupid research project, I'd rather be..." He paused, noticing a pair of hazel eyes staring from across the room.

"Hey! What are you looking at, dipshit?"

Startled, Mikey quickly crouched behind the bookcase and snuck away.

"That kid's such a freak, I swear," he muttered. Today was a day like any other at Darwin-Holt Junior-Senior High. The fall leaves had already changed colors and were falling in spades. Indeed, Eli and Simon had been working in the library, or lounging in Eli's case, for nearly two periods. Miss Liv, their freshman biology teacher, had dedicated this week to research. Some students took advantage of this time to work on their quarterly projects. Others did not.

Eli, in his tattered jeans and white t-shirt stained with day-old spaghetti sauce, did not.

Simon sighed, "Just ignore him. Maybe go back to reading? The project is due on Friday."

"I still have this whole week." He smirked as he sat back in his chair and placed his feet on the table. "You know I don't work on Mondays."

"Today is Wednesday, Eli."

"Really?"

Simon shook his head and removed his glasses, cleaning them on his blue polo. As the boys continued their directionless conversation, Mikey ventured into the reference section, glancing at the titles he passed. He paid no more attention to Eli, whose daily routine involved harassing him in and out of class. Whether he threw a rude insult or a carton of eggs, Eli seemed overly satisfied whenever he made his classmates suffer. Mikey often questioned how Simon, the smartest kid in class and his own brother, could remain friends with such a "terrific bastard." He never received a clear answer.

As he continued down the aisle, searching for a biology book, Mikey noticed several empty shelves lined up against the wall. The shelves contained no dust or mildew, unlike the rest of the library. The blonde boy concluded that the shelves, until recently, were filled. Reading the labels, he frowned; a large set of texts likely containing the information he needed was unavailable. He sighed, having exhausted the other encyclopedias in the library, and continued through the maze of shelves. Within minutes, the bell rang, and the class vacated the room. Mikey stayed behind for a moment, avoiding the inevitable stampede and the wild predator that was Eli Mason.

"'Bout time," laughed the brute as he pushed his way through the crowd. Simon followed, carrying both their backpacks.

Simon placed his tray on the hardwood table and sat down on his usual stool. The cafeteria bustled as always, with students chattering back and forth like parrots at a foul volume. The vibrant green and white walls of the café reflected the school's colors, as well as the natural light that fell in through the towering bay window. The young man squinted as light flashed through his peripherals.

"This is the assignment prompt," he said, placing a black notebook in front of Eli, who was engorging himself with BBQ chicken wings. With a sauce-covered hand, the boy flipped open the notebook and skimmed the pages.

"Thanks, I needed more napkins," Eli said while chewing. As pieces of masticated chicken landed on the lined paper, Simon quickly retrieved his notes.

"I'm trying to help you." He winced as he brushed off the pieces of projected meat.

"Dude, I read the prompt. I know what to do."

"And that would be?" Simon crossed his arms.

"Let you do everything," laughed Eli, grabbing a wing off of Simon's tray.

Simon grabbed a wing for himself. "As much as I'd like to do all your work...as usual...I can't do two projects right now. I'm busy."

"With what?" Eli's brow furrowed.

"It's not important. But I'm trying to help you as best I can here. You don't want to repeat biology, do you?"

"Hell no!" the boy exclaimed as he slammed his filthy hands against the table. "Miss Liv won't get another year out of me."

"Then get started."

"Okay, fine. I'll read, I'll write, whatever. Can we at least do the same topic?"

Simon's eyes rolled. "I'm comparing and contrasting the similar chemical and anatomical elements shared between both human and non-mammalian life forms. If you even attempt to write about that, Miss Liv will call you out for plagiarism...that means copying someone else's work."

Eli groaned, burying his forehead into his palms, "Of course, you pick some nerdy crap." He had few options available, short of bull-shitting an entire research paper, and Miss Liv had an extremely low tolerance for his debauchery. Thoughts of repeating bio swirled in his head like a vicious whirlpool. Fortunately, from the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey walk into cafeteria, a lunch box in hand and two large textbooks under his arm. Eli smiled devilishly, poking Simon from across the table and gesturing to the 9thgrader behind him.

Sipping from his milk carton, Simon glanced over his shoulder and saw Mikey sitting alone at the adjacent table. "Leave him out of this," he warned, setting down his drink.

With a growl and a scowl, Eli rose from his seat. "You're a chicken, Simon! Okay, I'll do the work, as usual." He stormed off, leaving Simon alone at the table. Hesitant to interfere, the boy remained seated.

At the other end of the café, Mikey unlocked his Transformers-brand lunch box and opened the black encyclopedia the librarian had found for him in the storage room. Though he found the lack of a title on the cover strange, he paged through blank sheets until he reached the title page:

Encyclopedia Animus: Vol. IV

Not for public or private use.

He found the print difficult to read, though the words were neither faded nor smudged; instead, they curved awkwardly, like they were hand-scribbled with a broken, feather pen. He stopped on a page containing da Vinci's Vitruvian Man and started taking notes. However, the drawing somehow seemed off. Before Mikey could examine it further, Eli slammed the book shut.

Without looking up at his the aggressor, Mikey muttered, "You really don't like books do you?"

"You're weird enough when you're quiet, so don't start talking. I need your help with a biology project because your brother is writing bullshit that I can't follow. So, I want your notes instead, and they better not be in 'herographics' or some crap like that."

"Hieroglyphics, you mean?" Mikey asked.

"I said shut up!" Eli bellowed. In response, the cafeteria grew quite. Simon, still sipping his milk, ignored the confrontation. "Now hand over your stupid work and your stupid books...or do I have to take them?" He leaned in close, hovering over the smaller boy's form.

Mikey looked up, analyzing his hostile face, the lines trailing down his flaring nostrils and the curves of his flustered eyes. Eli's hot breath, which reeked of BBQ sauce, beat down on his forehead. This was the bull ready to charge. On any other day in the midst of fall at Darwin-Holt High, Mikey would have surrendered without protest; he despised the feeling of pasta running down his pants. But today, he felt inexplicably confident; perhaps the few chest hairs he discovered that morning were to blame. After years of abuse, Mikey was going to return the favor. Today would be different from every other day. Today something was going to change.

"Be my guest," Mikey started, "but I write in Swahili."

He hocked a loogie right in Eli's face.

"You little shit!" The beast roared, climbing onto the table. Mikey jumped back off the stool and stepped away from the table. He moved to an open spot in the cafeteria, avoiding anything that could be used against him. Attempting to vault over, Eli laid his left hand on top of the black encyclopedia and propelled himself forward.

But a stabbing pain rushed through Eli's palm, and needless to say, he didn't clear the table.

The clad-in-white nurse wrapped Eli's left hand several time before grabbing the phone. He coddled his injured palm, rocking back and forth in his seat.

"Ms. Mason? Hi, this is the school nurse...No, it wasn't a fight again. He stabbed himself with a fork."

"I did not!" he interjected.

"He's a little wound up right now, so I need you to pick him up...thank you." She hung up and retrieved a bottle of painkillers from the back room. "You can stay in here until she arrives," she said, handing him some pills. He brushed her hand away.

Eli bit his lip in rage, contemplating a myriad of ways to take revenge on Mikey Holt. Never before had the boy retaliated, so why start now? No matter the reason, Eli thought, that freak would regret it. The bell rang for the next period, and the halls flooded once again. As a group of students passed, Simon entered carrying two book bags, one of which he tossed at his injured friend. Eli failed to catch his bag, and it promptly smacked him in the face.

"Simon!"

"What? You're not left-handed," he stated matter-of-factly. He slung his own bag over his shoulder, noticing the thick layers of bandages wrapped around the brunette's hand. With a tone of condescension, he spoke, "I told you not to bother him. He's not as shy as you think."

"Yeah, I noticed. Smartass was lippin' off to me, so I reached for his neck."

Simon's eyebrows furrowed. "And you slammed your hand down on his fork?"

"I did not!"

Simon smirked, "Well, _he_certainly didn't stab you with it."

"There was no fork!" Eli glared.

The blonde looked down at his own hand. "Maybe you should stick to sporks from now on."

"Listen!" Eli stood up and approached him--trying to look intimidating, but failing completely. He whispered, "I put my hand on his book, and it stabbed me."

"Eli," Simon said incredulously, "Books do not stab people. It may kill you to read anything that's not comic books or porn, but-"

"Just come by after dinner and I'll show you," he growled, gesturing towards his hand. "And keep away from your brother. I don't want you to catch his weirdness. Or his rebellious streak."

On top of his bed, Mikey sat in gym shorts and a gray, Linkin Park t-shirt as he continued taking notes from his textbook. He had tossed the black encyclopedia underneath his bed, unable to look at the dried-up bloody mess left on the cover. He remained uncertain of the day's events and assumed Eli was just as confused. After all, Mikey stood up for himself for the first time. He would later regret it, surely, but the temporary satisfaction brought a smile to his face. A faint knock came from the door.

"It's open," Mikey shouted.

The knob turned slowly, and Simon entered, zipping up his black jacket.

"Next time use a butter knife, it is not as sharp."

Mikey chuckled, "They think I stabbed him?"

Simon shook his head, "They think you're too timid and automatically assumed it was his own dumb fault."

"It was," the younger brother affirmed.

Simon nodded. "I'm going to see him now. He wants to show off his battle scars, I guess. Knowing Eli, his ego is in worse condition than his hand. It's probably-"

"'Tis but a flesh wound!" Mikey cried out in a nerdy fashion.

Simon laughed, "Right, my lord." He grasped the knob, but did not turn it. "What book did he want, exactly?"

"Just an encyclopedia," said Mikey with reticence.

"On what subject?"

"Anatomy." Mikey swung his legs over the bedside and pushed the book further underneath with his heel.

"Gray's?"

"No, it's black, actually." He smirked.

Simon chuckled before opening the door and leaving without another word. Mikey looked down at his feet, his curiosity peaking, and slowly retrieved the black book. Carrying it and his notebooks to the wooden desk, Mikey organized his workstation. The night was young, and the class project was nearly completed. Might as well finish it, he thought. Reaching for a pencil, however, he noticed the cover of the book had changed. Now, beveled words rose from the hard cover:

Animus

Dolor

Satus

The bloodstains were no longer visible, though a large metal diamond distended beneath the words. Mikey opened the book and found the formerly-blank pages full of the hand-scribbled text.

Eli lied on his couch in his jeans and muscle shirt, which highlighted his non-existent muscles. He yawned and flipped through the channels with his good hand. Whatever pain medications his mother gave him proved super effective, though they were causing excessive drowsiness. If not for the ringing of the doorbell, Eli would have fallen asleep with his notebooks unopened.

"Eli?" A familiar voice called from the other side.

With an exasperated sigh, the teenager dragged himself to the door and opened it.

"Took you long enough," Eli yawned, walking back to the couch.

"Oh, did I miss something important?"

Eli spun around. "Hey, watch the lip. I told you to stay away from him."

"And I did."

He scoffed, "You're a damn terrible liar."

"I suppose I am," Simon muttered. "Now why am I here?"

"To finish my project, duh."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Besides that. I believe you had a point to prove."

"Oh, right. C'mon" He walked groggily to the bathroom, his bare feet smacking against the tile.

As Simon walked further into Eli's den, he caught a strong whiff of alcohol. He gagged. "Dear Lord, have you been drinking?"

Eli glared. "Hey, you know I don't drink."

Ignoring his friend's dagger-armed glare, Simon glanced at the stained bandages wrapped around the boy's hand. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, removing his coat.

He shook his head. "I'm loaded up on painkillers. The only thing I feel is drowsy."

Eli slowly unraveled his bandages, turning away slightly. Simon looked on with boredom. As he unraveled more and more layers, dried blood stiffened the gauze. On the last roll, Eli pulled off the wrap, only to find his wound had completely healed.

"What the hell?" Eli stood there, mouth agape.

"Am I missing something?"

Eli examined his hand, front and back. No trace of the wound remained except for three small dots on his palm. "But the damn thing went right through my hand!"

"Well, if that is all, I'll start up your computer." Simon returned to the living room and set his coat down on the couch.

"Argh, shit!" Eli groaned, bending himself over the porcelain sink. His temperature escalated, and his heart struggled to pump blood through his body. He broke out in a heavy sweat, moisture perforating his shirt. Hastily, he threw off the tank top. His head jerked to the right as his left shoulder snapped backwards.

Simon rushed back to the bathroom, unnerved by his friend's cries. "Are you alright?"

Spontaneously, the Eli's spine cracked and expanded, forcing him to arch his back. His head smashed against the mirror, splintering the glass. The snapping of bones resonated through the bathroom. His vertebrae forced their way outwards, stretching the skin of his back to its limit. Flesh rippled and tightened around his ribs, which expanded with his spine, increasing the size of his chest. Simon stood in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed.

Eli cried out as his nails split, making room for the thick claws pushing out of his hands and feet. His toes flexed involuntarily, causing his newfound claws to click against the floor. Wide-spread cramps assaulted his legs, knocking Eli down onto the cold bathroom tile. Weakly, he sat up against the wall, starring in horror at his clawed toes, which continued to twitch uncontrollably.

"What is this?" he shouted, trying to control his rampant muscle spasm. With a multitude of cracks, the bones in Eli's feet began to lengthen and expand. His arches extended, pushing his toes away from his heel. The skin of his soles stretched in an effort to keep the boy's feet in one piece. His big toes, however, retreated up his feet, creating a large divide between them and the balls of his feet. Looking down, Simon could see the bottoms of Eli's feet blacken, as if the skin was charred. With a sickening crack, his toes curled inward and shortened. "Argh, God!" The boy shouted in pain, his voice noticeably deeper than moments ago.

In fear, he reached out with hesitation to touch his new, fleshy paw-feet, only to have his hand stretch forward without warning. Never before had Eli been able to reach past his toes; now the accomplishment seemed even more astounding, considering his hands and feet measured at ten inches a piece. He retracted his mutated hand, terrified of what it had become. Padding grew on his palms and fingertips, thickening continuously.

His head fell back against the wall. "S-Simon, help me," he muttered, reaching towards his companion with a freakish, lengthened hand.

A spastic pain emanated from his lower back as his spine pulsated and muscles twitched. Eli quickly sat forward, his hairless foot-paws flopping about. A small, bony protrusion rushed violently from his spine, wiggling about on the floor. He let out a pained whimper as the new limb lengthened, pressing against the cold tile. Curling into the fetal position, his elongated hands wrapped around him, Eli cried while his organs caught fire. Whatever fat sat on his stomach dissipated, as his abdomen tightened, constricting his organs as they grew to fill his chest cavity.

As if he received a left hook to the face, Eli fell fast onto his side. A tremendous bout of anguish hit his jaw, which dislocated immediately, bringing forth a cry from the boy's throat. Unable to manipulate his writs or ankles, he lied on the floor helpless. Pressure built behind his face, as though his skull would explode forward, eviscerating his flesh. Unfortunately for the boy, his skin followed suit. Eli released a perturbing cry as his face slowly, painfully pushed forward, carrying with it his nose and lips, now blackened like charcoal. His eyes clenched shut and turned at voluminous amber. Teeth sharpened, slicing through gums and forcing his mouth wide open. Drool and blood frothed from his mouth as it continued to expand. His nose rested several inches in front of his face, which jerk forward one last time.

Lying before Simon was a large, amalgamation of fleshy, inhuman parts, shivering and contorting itself on the floor as a sea of pitch black fur erupted all over its body. His former friend let out a guttural moan from his newly formed muzzle, and being a sound, logical young man, Simon forced himself to accept the preceding events as fact and directed himself towards the nearest door.