Chapter 2


It was Friday, May 17, 2002, and Carter Stevens was king of the fucking world.

That wasn't an understatement, at least not around Chamberlain High School. And really, even around the whole area of Portland, Maine it held true. The best-known school was Chamberlain High, and the most famous sports team was the football team, followed closely by the hockey team. Carter played on and was captain of both.

Lying in this enormous four-poster bed, which Carter had alternately charmed and bullied his parents into getting for him, it was easy to feel like you were the lord of all creation. Rich, supremely popular, athletic as hell, lying in a bed that had cost well over a thousand dollars in sheets and blankets of the finest materials… it was heaven.

Carter sat up, grinned, then reached over and gently shook his girlfriend Mallory's shoulder. She was hotter than hell, a rich track runner girl with a stunning figure and a beautiful, pouty face. Carter had gotten buzzed and fucked her on Luke Davis' own bed a few months back during a party, and asked her out before he got up and left. Just like the little suckup freshman football player who'd so eagerly offered his home for the social elite of Chamberlain to utterly trash over just one night, Mallory, a haughty senior with a serious weak spot for strong boys with big muscles, had been happy enough to give Carter what he wanted.

That their relationship was empty of real love didn't bother Carter at all. Henry Evans had said a fantastic body and great sex was all you really needed in a girlfriend. Mallory provided that, making a horny teenager like Carter happy enough to shower her with all kinds of expensive dates and gifts. He gladly bought her whatever she liked so long as easy access to her body continued. Although Henry insisted that kings only used proper beds with the best sheets, Carter found he enjoyed hopping into the Cadillac Escalade that Mom and Dad had gotten him last year and getting a quick session in before, during, and after the school day.

Best part was, the whole school knew Carter was doing it. He'd sometimes even wave to his buddies while getting head in the backseat. But nobody ever snitched on him. Never. They knew better than to cross a guy like Carter, who was well known for his love for karate, football, hockey, and weightlifting- all things that helped him keep this magnificent physique that he'd tirelessly worked to earn and maintain over the past four years.

Mallory stirred and turned to look at him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, beautiful," Carter said, waggling his eyebrows at her. "You, uh, wanna do anything before we get some breakfast?"

"Last night wasn't enough?" Mallory asked with some surprise. She sat up, revealing her gorgeous chest. "Oh, who am I kidding?" She crossed her arms.

"Nobody."

"Carter-"

"Babe. Just suck a little at least. I got, like, an exam in 7th Period. I could really use this."

"No," Mallory said, turning away.

"Babe, I'll buy you something," Carter promised. "Anything you want. We'll go after school today. I promise."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"I want another purse," Mallory insisted. "You said you'd get me one and you still haven't taken me by the store I said has them."

Shit, did you really think I cared enough to remember? Goddamn! Okay, uh… fuck it. Guess I'll shell out on this one.

"Babe, we'll go right by there. It's the first stop we'll make."

"First one?"

"First one."

Carter lifted the blankets off himself and lay back, hands behind his head.

"And I wanna see you do it this evening," Mallory said.

"What, jerk off?" Carter asked, startled.

"It's so hot when you do it. I wanna watch you."

Carter hesitated a moment. "Yeah… okay. I guess. Okay, okay. Okay." He laughed, shrugging. "Alright. I'll do it. Sound good?"

Mallory smiled. "Okay, Cart-Cart."

"Damn it, don't call me that, I told you I don't- ohh… ah… shit…"

One thing always led to another in Carter's love life. After making Mallory swallow again, half-listening to her half-hearted complaints about it, and eating her out to get her to stop whining, Carter was hard as a diamond. He was so busy giving it to Mallory that he lost track of time, and was seconds from finishing round two when Mom knocked loudly on the door.

"Carter! Are you up, honey? It's past time for you to be downstairs!"

Carter froze, holding himself up with his palms flat against the bed. "I'm- yeah, I'm up, Mom!"

"Do I need to come in and help you out of bed again?"

"No, Mom! I promise, I'm up!"

Mallory, lying still beneath him, reached up and started brushing at his armpit hair with one hand, squeezing his ass with the other. Carter grunted. He loved it when she did that stuff, but right now, he didn't need that. He was busy.

"Honey, I want you downstairs in five minutes."

"Ten, Mom! I gotta shave and stuff!"

"Okay, honey, but make it fast. Did Mallory sleep over again?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Aren't you supposed to tell your dad and I when that happens?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Did the two of you behave yourselves?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Downstairs, ten minutes."

"Okay, Mom," Carter and Mallory said together. He looked down at her and grinned.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

With his balls still throbbing bad enough that it was tricky to walk normally, Carter came downstairs in a pair of new designer jeans and a white Nike polo, his way of continuing the ultra-preppy image that Henry and Mark Evans had gone for each and every day. The polo was just a size too small, so it clung lovingly to his broad-shouldered, well-muscled body, making him quite a distraction for the girls in class, in the halls, or anywhere, really.

Talking casually with his parents was easy, and so was pretending that he hadn't been screwing the pretty girl beside him all night and a good amount of the morning. Carter had been practicing the Art of Bullshit, tutored and mentored all the way from freshman year by the Evans brothers, to the point where he could have walked into Catholic Mass on Sunday and sworn on a Bible that he had not and would not ever have sex outside of marriage. Carter loved his parents, but he also understood that they were there for a purpose, and that purpose was providing him with everything he wanted and needed to be king of his high school. They did their job well, so Carter treated them generously.

Someday, when he started putting kids in some beauty one after the other, Carter wanted to teach any boys he had about the importance of wearing your hair just the right way. The neat yet stylish manner affected by Henry Evans was perfect, but you could go for Mark's wavy locks if you had brown or black hair instead of blond. Carter was lucky. He not only had the right hair color, he even looked like Henry a little. A rumor had been circulating for years that Carter was a cousin of some sort to Henry, and Carter did nothing to discourage that.

The other thing Carter planned to teach his kids was that Adolf Hitler was honestly misrepresented in History class. Yeah, he did some stuff that wasn't so nice, but then, so did plenty of other world leaders. The main reason Hitler was depicted as the bad guy, Henry and Mark said, was because his side lost World War II. Of course the Jews, the Jew-lovers, and the people who had thought they were liberating Europe from oppression all wrote the history books their way. Of course they did. Carter kept a copy of Mein Kampf in his room at his desk, telling Mom and Dad it was for historical research or some crap.

He actually did it because Henry Evans had told him to.

After a few more minutes of meaningless chatter with his parents, Carter grabbed his backpack and handed Mallory's to his trophy girlfriend. He was on his way to Chamberlain High, to the place he practically owned. It was gonna be a good day.

On the way out to his truck, Carter's phone started going off, and he snapped it open to hear Michael Cadiz, his best friend and chosen successor as King of Chamberlain High, telling him to go fuck himself.

"Mikey, when you say that, it makes me feel like you don't respect me," Carter replied matter-of-factly.

"You would think that, you fuckin' pussy," Mikey answered. "Listen. I used my last pills last night and Michelle is putting out some more tonight after we work out and shit. Can you hook me up?"

"Goddamn, man, you used up what I gave you already?"

"Carter," Mikey pleaded. "Come on, man."

"I think you've been doing plenty of that."

"Oh, goddamn it!"

"I'll call my 'supplier' and have him meet up with you today," Carter told him.

"Thanks, man," Mikey said, relief clear in his voice.

"Anytime," Carter told him. He hung up, smiling to himself. None of his inner circle went without if he could help it. Whatever they needed in their lives as popular, prosperous high schoolers, Carter could get it for them. Favors from him were like favors from the king, and it was very good to be the king. Very good indeed.

"What was that about?" Mallory asked curiously.

"Nothing, babe," Carter told her, pausing to kiss her cheek. "My buddy Mike just needed something from me. You know, like everybody does."

"I'm so gonna ace that test in English today," Mallory said with a grin. "I think every girl oughta fuck her hot boyfriend before a big day at school."

"Good advice," Carter said, "but not every guy's like me."

"That's for sure."

As they got to his truck, Carter unlocked the door for Mallory and opened it, giving her ass a squeeze as she got in. She looked at him sharply, briefly annoyed, but Carter just winked, keeping a straight face.

"Sup, babe."

"You're lucky you're so hot," Mallory told him, trying to be reproachful.

"I know, babe," Carter told her smugly. "I know."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

People knew to leave the prime spaces in the student parking lot for Carter and his friends. As he reached his reserved space, the one with the shortest walk to the school's front doors, Carter adjusted his sunglasses and ran down the list of what he had to do today. Even with his reign nearing its end, Carter remained king, and that meant people were constantly coming to him for things. Not just favors, but advice, ideas, interesting news, all kinds of things.

Most of that Carter could safely ignore if he wanted to, but Henry and Mark had stressed the importance of keeping the school social network firmly on his side and under his control. That meant that Carter had to keep informed about practically everything, which meant he needed to retain a network of informers and use his inner circle to make sure he was always aware of the latest events and rumors going around.

Just after parking the Escalade, Carter noticed movement in the back of Mikey's Bravada. The tinted windows of his brother's old SUV weren't enough to obscure the sight of Mikey's bare ass, clenching and unclenching as he drew back his hips, drove forward, then repeated. Carter smirked, figuring he knew just what to do here.

"Hey, babe," he called softly to Mallory. "Come take a look at this."

"What?" Mallory asked, barely glancing up from her phone.

"This."

Carter opened the door and got quite an eyeful; Mikey was poised over his trophy girlfriend, groaning and rubbing himself with one hand, and he had left quite a mess on her smooth, suntanned belly.

"OhmyGod!" Michelle cried. "Mike!"

"Holy fuck!" Michael Cadiz yelled, twisting to look over one muscular shoulder, his blue eyes alive with fury. "Goddamn it, I'm gonna fucking kill- Carter!"

"Hey, Mikey? Sup?" Carter asked, barely containing his laughter. "Having a good morning?"

"I was! Hey, shut the goddamn door, man!"

Carter closed the door and waited patiently. After a minute or so, Mikey, the stunning redhead who ruled alongside Carter as Chamberlain's crown prince, emerged dressed in his navy blue shorts and white polo, an identical pair of Oakley's on his face. He brushed at his neatly-styled red hair and glared at Carter.

"Dude," he said, "what the fuck?"

"Is Michelle dressed?"

"You're a fucking asshole, Carter," Michelle told him, still fixing her straw-blonde hair as she came around the side of the Bravada. "And a fucking pervert."

"Why'd you date me most of last year, then?" Carter asked rhetorically. "Be honest. Is Mikey as good as I was?"

"Well, he sure doesn't open the door on other people's trucks while they're trying to relax before school fucking starts!"

"Mikey, how is it dating a senior?"

"I'm all about it, man," Mikey grinned behind his sunglasses. He raised his hand for a high-five and the two boys slapped palms. "So you got me back for last month."

"Like I said I would."

"Carter Stevens, right again."

"Fuck yes he is."

"Are you referring to yourself in the third person?" Michelle asked in disbelief.

"I can't believe you'd have time to notice that with so many guns around," Carter commented, his voice nonchalant.

"Guns? What guns? Oh, no-"

"These!" Carter and Mikey shouted at the same time, each pulling a sleeve up and displaying his powerful, bulging right bicep.

"God, I fucking walked into that," Michelle fumed. "Okay, Mallory, can we go inside now? These boys are just too full of themselves this morning."

"Okay, BF," Mallory agreed. "I just told everyone on my chat that Carter's being Carter and Mike's being Mike, so, everything's totally normal."

"You're assholes," Michelle told them both, flipping them off.

"Love you, too, babe," Mikey answered her, blowing Michelle a kiss.

"We'll talk, when your best friend's not around," Michelle said, still glaring at Carter.

"I miss you, too," Carter called to her.

"Fuck off, Carter."

"She doesn't really hate me," Carter said confidently. "Hey, Mallory!"

"What?" Mallory replied, turning around. "Seriously, Carter, I gotta go catch up with, like, two dozen people about stuff. Lots of rumors going around. I even heard some kid's going around who looks just like you only he's in 9th grade."

"Hey, wait, what about- like, you mean my haircut or something?"

"Hair, clothes, everything. Karen said he's on the football team. Seriously, you haven't even heard of this guy?"

"I know about this kid," Carter blustered. "I just mean I don't know his goddamn name. Find out who he is and Mike and me will take care of him, you got me?"

"Jeez, Carter, so demanding," Michelle snickered. "Something got you stressed?"

"Babe. Can you take care of that for me? Talk to the guys, just tell 'em that's from me."

"I'll find the little twerp, Carter, now can you chill?"

"See you at lunch," Carter said, blowing another kiss to her. Mallory blew a kiss back and walked away with Michelle.

"Jesus, she's hot," Mikey remarked. "Fuck."

"That ass of yours, though-" Carter began, but Mikey shoved at him.

"Oh, fuck you!"

"Like I said-"

"Goddamn it!"

"How was it?"

"Awesome, right up to the end," Mikey sighed. "You weren't lying about her, man. She puts out and when she does, holy shit. I've never had ass like that before."

"Mallory almost caught me with Rachel Sanders at the last party," Carter said, lowering his voice. "I need her distracted for real next time. I can't have her start thinking I'm fuckin' other girls behind her back."

"But you kind of are, dude," Mikey said, pausing to light a cigarette. He offered one from the pack to Carter, who accepted the offered lighter and took a deep drag before letting it out.

"That's not the point, man," Carter replied. "We both know that, Mikey."

"Yeah? So what?"

"How many times did I make sure your girlfriend never caught you with anybody?"

"Andy taught me all I ever needed to know about that shit. He dated two girls at once all his senior year, two girls, two schools. They never, ever found out."

"But was Andy here covering for your ass all this year?"

"I think you just saw plenty of my ass, and it wasn't covered at all."

"Jeez," Carter laughed.

"So Kevin Jacobs told me to tell you that he's got his parents out of the state for their honeymoon anniversary, he got a guy to buy him all the drinks he told him to get and he's got the silk sheets all set up in your room and mine."

"Cool. Tell him if he doesn't fuck this up we'll make that request of his happen."

"He asked for, oh yeah, Danielle Beauchene. She's so far out of that kid's league it's insane. How're we gonna talk her into fuckin' him, again?"

"Like Henry did with Jennifer Dao. You call her up, tell her you miss her, confide Michelle just isn't like she was, hint that if she fucks the sophomore hockey kid she gets another night of heaven with you."

"That was straight out of Henry's playbook?"

"Yep. That's exactly what he did, he said so himself."

"Goddamn," Mikey laughed. "Okay, sure. I kind of already told her something like that, but just hints and stuff, you know."

"Well, go and just tell it to her straight. She'll do it. Just gotta be smooth, confident, and have lots of money and huge fuckin' muscles."

"Lucky you and me got all that, huh?" Carter said. He sighed and shook his head. "Jesus, I love high school. Pretty soon this whole show's gonna be yours, man. You'll own everything."

"I can't wait."

"I'll make it official-official on the last day of class," Carter promised. "Have the freshmen do a salute and all that shit."

"Cool."

"C'mon, Mikey," Carter said, clapping his best friend on his muscular shoulders. "Let's see if we can't go fuck with Jimmy the Jew some more before class starts."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Jeremy Goldstein, one of Carter and Mikey's favorite targets, was a skinny 10th grader who had drawn their ire by refusing to remove the Star of David necklace he wore all the time after he had transferred here from… somewhere. Carter had ordered the kid to get rid of the necklace, and he'd promised he would- and then immediately swapped his entire routine for getting around the school and all but made himself invisible to Carter and anyone publicly affiliated with him. It had taken a lot of investigation by Mikey to find out where the twerp had gone.

And now… now he was gonna pay. Big time. Carter knew Jimmy's new routine down to the minute, a delightful perk of how meticulously-detailed the kid was. Mikey eagerly tagged along as they went through the halls, and when Carter found the curly-haired kid at his locker, grabbed him by the neck and pulled him toward the nearest bathroom, Mikey almost giggled like a little kid as he raced to get the toilet ready.

Turned out this remote locker, located in an obscure corner of the school about ten miles from the office, wasn't the one the sophomore was originally issued. It had been his idea to request a transfer on some pretext, probably thinking that hiding away in a spot like this would make him almost impossible to find. He'd been right… for a time. But now his luck had run out.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Jeremy Goldstein didn't know anything was wrong as he stepped off the school bus, wandered off the bus ramp and into the endless labyrinthine halls of his high school, and headed for his locker. He didn't have any idea that he'd been discovered at last, or that those big macho jerks who ran the school, Carter Stevens and Michael Cadiz, had figured out where he'd moved his locker to.

And because Jeremy had gotten comfortable enough to let his guard down, and because Carter and Michael could be alarmingly quiet when they wanted to be, he didn't know anything was wrong until Carter's hand wrapped around his neck and he was dragged, choking and gagging, into the boys' bathroom just around the corner behind him.

"Good morning, you fuckin' Jew bastard," Carter Stevens whispered in his ear. "Did you think we'd forgotten about you?"

"Ha!" Michael Cadiz laughed from further inside the bathroom.

With his neck still firmly gripped in Carter's left hand, Jeremy strained for breath but could only make horrible choking noises.

"Yeah, I know, bitch, ain't it?" Carter said knowingly. "Mikey, you ready in there?"

"Oh, man, gimme a minute. Jesus, I'm just about there-"

"Lucky you, man, he's giving you- well, you'll see."

"Jeez-God-fuck!" Mikey groaned. "Shit- oh, oh, my God… okay, okay, it's ready. Bring him over now."

Jeremy kicked and flailed desperately, but Carter just closed his hand tighter. He was pulled further inside, toward one of the toilet stalls. Just as he began to black out, he was thrown to the floor in front of a toilet. He looked up, gasping for air, and Michael Cadiz stood there with his feet planted wide apart, grinning and waggling a large penis at him.

"Got the oven ready, Carter," Mikey said proudly.

"Okay. Let's toss this one in."

"With pleasure, my dude."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

At lunch, with Carter busy with Mallory out in the Escalade, Mikey was the center of attention. He sat there at the place of honor, Michelle at his side, eating lazily and listening to what people were talking about. Carter had said it was important to hold court like you were above it all, like you just didn't give a shit. You could, of course, comment anytime, but you didn't need to, and just as important, you weren't supposed to. The king didn't take an interest in every single thing mentioned in conversation.

Michelle kept massaging his right thigh, going higher and higher. Mikey told her to stop, or was pretty sure he did anyway, but she just kept going.

"Ooh, cut that out," Mikey hissed. "Easy, easy."

"Don't you like it?" she whispered.

"Babe, I don't wanna change my fuckin' pants. Take it easy."

She eased off, but started pouting. "I thought you liked that stuff."

"I do, but time and place, you know?"

"Yeah, okay."

Mikey cupped her chin and kissed her. "I love you."

"You gonna take me out tonight?"

"Yeah, after I go work out with Carter and the guys."

"You promised-"

"Babe, c'mon. I gotta lift weights. I'll buy you dinner anywhere you wanna go, and we can go anywhere you want after. Just cut me a break, okay?"

"Fine."

He kissed her again. "Thanks."

A boy tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Mikey, I was just thinking-"

"What?" Mikey said, interrupting. "What did you call me?"

Mikey turned around, glaring at Trevor Stout, the tall, lean basketball player who was bucking for inner circle status with him. Bucking for it hard. He was a great dude to have at a party, he could lift weights and play a mean game of basketball, but he was getting careless. Mikey's cheeks heated with fury at the use of his childhood name. Not even his oldest friends used the name anymore. Just Andrew, his hero and big brother, and Carter, his best friend and, whether Carter knew it or not, second hero.

Trevor Stout wasn't either of those things. He was just a pampered rich kid who was forgetting his place. And Carter, Henry and Mark had all said some pretty stern things about keeping people in their place.

"I just said your name, man," Trevor said, visibly confused. He laughed. "What, you didn't change your name did you, Mikey?"

That does it.

Mikey stood up and put a hand on Trevor's left shoulder.

"Trevor, what did I tell you about using that name? What did I say? Nobody calls me that anymore."

Everyone at the hot-shot's table, and the tables nearby, suddenly went quiet as they noticed what was going on. Everyone stared expectantly up at Mikey, waiting to see what happened next.

"Dude, I've known you since fifth grade," Trevor blustered nervously. "I-I just called you what we all called you. I thought-"

Mikey slugged him then, a hard one straight to the gut. Then, while Trevor was doubled over, gasping for air, he hit him again, this time with an uppercut right under his chin. Trevor practically flew back and crashed against the opposite table, narrowly missing a boy who leaned out of the way just in time. Trevor looked up at Mikey, gasping for air, fear plain on his face.

"I'm Mike," Mikey told him. "You better not forget that." He turned to Luke West, one of the best-liked 12th grade boys on the varsity football and hockey teams. "Make sure he does all the cleanup at the party. Nobody else does anything."

"You got it, Mike," Luke nodded. He pointed to a freshman from the football team who was passing by. "Hey, kid. Pick Trevor up. He just had an accident."

"Yes, sir," the boy said. He instantly moved to obey, dragging a stunned Trevor away.

"He can tell me he's sorry next week, if he does the cleanup right," Mikey told everyone. "But he's missing the party this time."

Nobody at the table contradicted him.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

The boys on the freshmen football team were all hockey players this year; the seniors had 'suggested' that they join both teams, along with the juniors. The result had been a double dose of living Hell. They went through the cauldron of fire in the fall, then went again in the spring, enduring endless weeks of pain and misery, brutal practices and unforgiving games, barely allowed to live if they won a game and nearly hospitalized if they lost. They had learned to obey every order given by an upperclassman without question, and they had learned to become a hundred times more fit in a hurry. They lived at the gym, lived in the rink and on the football field.

At long last it seemed like they had finally made it. They had survived tryouts and freshman year. They would be among the ones tormenting the new kids next year as sophomores, still pitifully low in rank, but at least having earned their place.

Peter Lancaster was so happy to have made it. He'd kept his head down, obeyed every order, endured the pain and humiliation without complaint. He'd gone to bed shaking with pain, limped through the hallways, urinated in his uniform and even shit himself. He'd taken punches from Carter and Mike without a hand raised to protect himself. And now, having finally survived, he was openly dressing just like his idol, his hero, Carter Stevens. It was time to show the true depth of his loyalty at last. He'd studied Carter all year, learned his mannerisms, style of dress, favorite habits and music, even how he liked to fuck.

Carter was a living legend, a myth. Tall, strong, supremely confident, a star athlete and complete ladies' man, Carter had been hand-picked as a boy destined for greatness by Henry Evans himself, with the full approval of Henry's brother Mark. The pair had noticed Carter's flawless imitation of Henry's haircut and even more than a passing resemblance between the two and elevated Carter to be one of their friends and protégés. Peter wanted that glory, that success. He wanted to prove himself as a true follower of an heir to Chamberlain High's greatest athletes and alumni. He was even reading all kinds of books to try and understand what made the Nazis so cool, since the upperclassmen all said they were, especially Mike and Carter.

The plan was to walk up to Carter this afternoon and basically pledge loyalty to him. Dressing exactly like him and even looking a little like him, even dying his hair blond, hadn't gotten any special attention, so Peter was gonna just tell the king what he was and how he felt. He'd either be honored for his devotion or labeled a fag; it was gain or lose it all. Peter liked the idea of that. He wanted to take that risk.

After being run all over the field for two hours straight in the growing heat by the upperclassmen, the freshmen had been forced to wait while the 10th, 11th, and 12th grade players all went in and showered and changed first. Then, in honor of the last practice of the year, the freshmen had to strip naked and make their way through a jeering, shoving crowd of older boys all the way to the showers. Peter resolutely made sure his hair was still styled just like Carter's before making the run. He wanted everyone to see it.

But nothing happened, yet again. He didn't even see Carter. Disappointed but trying not to show it, Peter came back from the showers to get his stuff and go. He'd just go for the backup plan tomorrow.

"Hey, Pete," William Sanders, Peter's best friend and the only football tryout with glasses who'd lived, said in greeting. Like Peter, Will was skinny but extremely fit, adding muscle all the time as his body grew. Unlike Peter, he wore a shaggy mop of curly black hair and was half-blind without his glasses. He'd taken some especially severe mockery to get where he was and it had only bonded him and Peter more closely.

"No luck today," Peter sighed, grateful that his friend was still here. The seniors had been brutal with him for some reason, made it a nightmare just to make it to the showers. He'd just gotten in when most had already changed, and so the locker room was nearly empty.

"Just try the backup plan tomorrow," Will said. "You're the best player we have, especially on offense. How many games have we won because of you? Just tell them what you really think and they'll respect it."

"Nice speech."

"Fuck you."

"You always say that to me."

"Cause you fucking deserve it."

"Friendships are weird, dude."

"Only a best friend will tell you to go fuck yourself."

"Well?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Both boys set aside their towels, fumbled with their locks, and opened the lockers.

"I was just g-" Peter began, but he dropped his clothes and snapped to attention as the imposing form of a heavily-muscled upperclassman came into view. He performed an about-face and stood rigid in front of the bench and lockers behind him. Will, to his left, had done the same thing.

"There he is," Carter Stevens said to his best friend, Michael Cadiz. "I told you that kid was still here."

"Yeah, man, he took forever getting to the showers. What's with that, anyway?"

"I don't know. But he better have a good explanation because Coach will cut him from the team if I say so. Coach knows my word is good as fuckin' gold."

"Hell yeah, bro."

"So?" Carter demanded.

"No excuse, sir," Peter answered quickly.

"Yeah, you better believe there's no fuckin' excuse," Mike laughed. "Hey, four-eyes."

"Yessir!"

"Take your shit and get the fuck out."

"Yessir!"

Will snatched all his things from his locker and fled the locker room, still naked. Peter only hoped he was able to dress quickly in the side hallway the locker room was located on.

And then the locker room door swung closed with a snap, announcing that Peter Lancaster was alone with the two coolest, most powerful guys at Chamberlain High. His life for the next three years would be decided right here. As terrified as Peter was, he knew he had to have some chance here. Maybe he could still explain and he'd get out of this okay. Better yet, he could swear loyalty and be named a protégé, a future successor, as Carter and Mike had been.

Those two were the coolest of the cool, the last boys who'd personally known Henry and Mark Evans while they were still in high school and who had remained friends with them up to the present day. No other 9th or 8th grader had ever accomplished that. No one.

Peter stayed silent and motionless, still naked and still at attention. The two older boys stared at him, arms crossed, and for a time the locker room was silent apart from the sound of the air conditioning fans.

"So this week I just found out that some kid has been dressing like me, even wearing his hair like me," Carter said. "I asked around and everybody said it was you. So what's the fucking deal here? You gay for me? You a fag or something?"

"Sir, I only fuck girls," Peter announced.

"Yeah, I heard about that, too," Mike told him. "Congrats on popping your cherry this year. We're all impressed. So stop lying. You've done a good job but we found out the truth."

"Sir," Peter said, terrified this situation was about to take a nosedive. "I had to protect my rep. I had to do it. I was gonna get laid. I will."

"Okay, okay. We get that. Now, why're you trying to look just like Carter?"

"Sir, I want to be just like Carter."

"That so?" Carter asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And why's that?"

"Because he's the best, sir. I want to be the best, sir." Deciding to really go for broke now, Peter blurted, "He's my hero, sir. I'd give anything to be just like him."

"You charged through my guys like it was nothing," Carter said. "I specifically told them who you were and to make it tougher for you to make it to the showers than anybody, but you still got there all on your own. Two guys even threw you into a locker and you just hit the floor and crawled under them and kept going."

"Yes, sir."

"You're one tough motherfucker, you know that?"

"Sir?"

"Mikey, gimme a few minutes here. I need to talk to Peter, just me and him."

"Sure thing, Carter."

When they were alone, Carter sat down on the bench and motioned for Peter to sit. He immediately did, still otherwise frozen in place.

"Relax, man."

"Yes, sir."

Peter did his best to sit in a more relaxed manner, as casually as he could being stark naked in front of his idol, a guy who could destroy his whole life with just a word to his friends or put him in the hospital with a few well-placed blows. Carter feared no one, was feared by everyone. He was everything Peter wanted to become- popular, bold, strong, successful, supremely confident.

A heavy, muscular arm fell around Peter's all-too-bony shoulders and he almost jumped.

"I haven't missed everything you did this year," Carter said, smiling at him. "You've been doing everything you could to impress me. Tryouts, all those practices and games, shitting on the weak kids that nobody likes. And here you are looking like you could be my younger brother. Did you seriously think I didn't know what you thought of me?"

"N-no, sir," Peter said. "Well, sir, I wasn't sure."

"Just tell me. Don't be a pussy. Tell me what I am to you."

Peter looked his idol right in the eyes. "You're my goddamn hero. Sir."

Carter laughed. "Peter, my name's Carter. Try that, okay?"

"Sir?"

"You can call me Carter, dude. It's cool. Okay? And, you're officially invited to the party this weekend. And I already told Rebecca Cardiff about you. She's really looking forward to hanging out with you at the party. I told her some stuff and she wants to know what you're really like."

Holy shit. She's the hottest girl in 10th grade. Jeez, what'd they even tell her about me?

"Yes, si- Carter."

"Listen, I know you're busy, but you wanna come by the gym to meet the guys later today? They've all heard about the badass freshman who wants to be a black-belt just like me and Mikey. They'd like to meet you before the party."

"Sure," Peter agreed, smiling. "I can go. I can't really drive, though."

"That's no problem. I'll drive you there."

"You will?" Peter asked, scarcely able to believe his luck.

"Let's go right now."

Peter hurriedly dressed without being told, the first time he had ever done anything in front of Carter without waiting for orders. Carter, who waited patiently in the meantime, high-fived him and steered him to the door once he was dressed.

"You've impressed me," Carter said. "You've impressed Mikey. Now let's see how you do from now until Saturday night. Think you can impress everybody who's somebody in the junior and senior class?"

"Fucking drive me to the gym and get me to that party and I'll show you," Peter told him.

Carter laughed. As Mike Cadiz came into view in the hallway, Carter said to him, "Hey, man. Peter's cool with going to the gym with us. And he says he can hold his liquor and fuck like a champ."

"Nice," Mike agreed. "Good work this year, Peter. Your last days in 9th grade are gonna kick ass."

Peter looked up at the two older boys as they headed for the commons area, then out the front doors and on toward the parking lot, striding a little taller, a little cockier with every step. His plan had worked. Not only worked, but succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. And Carter… he was even cooler up close than he was from a distance. Way cooler. This weekend was going to be awesome.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Carter was passed out in bed at noon when someone started banging on the door. He sat up and wished he hadn't; his head throbbed even worse than his balls did. Holy shit, he'd had a lot of beer last night. And he'd humped Mallory until the sheets were soaked with sweat. He'd finally gone to bed at, what, four or five in the morning? He'd been fucking Mallory one last time, so drunk he could barely stick it in right, and as soon as he was done he'd pulled out and turned off the lights.

Mallory, beside him, was still out. Carter got up, swearing as the headache hit him harder when he noticed the sunlight coming into the room. He staggered over to the door and yanked it open, then looked down to see, of all people, Peter Lancaster, who looked almost as fucked up as he did.

"Jeez, Peter, I'm gonna have to break your neck, man," Carter sighed in exasperation. "I gotta kill you for this."

"Carter, you left your phone downstairs last night."

"So the fuck what?"

"Henry Evans has been calling and calling. I answered and he said he wants to see everybody at the football field."

"Jesus, we're all- we're all fucking fucked up," Carter groaned. "Are you fucking with me? Because I'll snap your neck. You better not be fucking with me."

"No. Henry told me to get up here and give the phone to you."

"What?"

Peter promptly thrust a familiar cell phone towards him, and Carter took it gingerly, not quite sure what was happening.

"Hey! Carter, dude, you there?" Henry Evans called. "Talk to me."

"This is, uh, Carter," Carter answered. "Jeez, Henry, what- uh, what's up?"

"You sound fucked up. So does that freshman."

"He's cool," Carter replied. "I'm his fucking hero. He dresses like me, wears his hair like me. He's cool. He drank a ton before he threw up last night."

"Okay, bring him along. Actually, make sure he's with you."

"Bring- who? What?"

"Carter, Mark and I just got back from Annapolis. How about you get the hockey and football team together over at the field at school?"

"Uh… how long? I mean, when?"

"Let's do 2pm. Get your clothes back on and get everyone over here."

"Okay, Henry," Carter said, a little more awake now. "Sure."

"I'm counting on you, man. Get everyone there. Everybody."

"Sure."

"See you soon, Carter," Mark Evans said, and he hung up the phone.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Carter went into the most desperate kind of overdrive he'd ever known in his life for the next few hours. He dressed, woke everyone up that he could before leaving Peter behind to continue the process, got Mallory up, dressed, and back to her house, then drove back to the site of the party, where Trevor was already busy cleaning up. He grabbed Mikey, who had been asleep in his own reserved room with Michelle when Carter first woke up but was now dressed and shaved, and the two of them drove to Chamberlain High to wait while everyone got moving. They sent text message after text message, made call after call.

Luckily, years of rigid, unforgiving training in obedience and timeliness meant that the entire football and hockey team successfully dropped everything and made their way straight to Chamberlain in almost no time at all. Carter and Mikey quickly assigned some sophomores to direct traffic and get everyone headed toward the field, then sat around on the bleachers, smoking and waiting for their teams to arrive.

"Can't believe how scared I was of them," Mikey laughed softly, exhaling and flipping his latest cigarette away. "When I first met them."

"You were a little kid, man. It's cool."

"I was scared of everything, dude."

"Yeah, and how about now, Mikey?"

Mikey grinned. "I'm the king of the fuckin' school," he said. "Thanks for sharing the throne this year."

"I wouldn't have shared it with anyone else."

"You know, some of your 'best friends' in the senior class don't like you moving me up like this."

"Fuck them. They're jealous of me, too, but they can deal with it until graduation. You're the biggest badass in this school besides me."

Mikey nodded. "Pretty sure I get more pussy than you, too."

"Oh, yeah?" Carter demanded. "Now, how about we count-"

"Hey, man," Peter Lancaster said, coming up the bleachers toward Carter. "Everyone's here. I got some guys to do a count. We got everybody out in the parking lot."

"Well, who told them to wait out there?" Mikey demanded irritably.

"The King," Peter said, half-bowing to Carter. He grinned. "Or that's what I told 'em."

"You're an asshole, Peter."

"Yes, si- er, yeah, dude. I don't know any better."

"God," Mikey laughed. "Dude finally gets his cock wet and he thinks he's John fuckin' Wayne."

"I just learned from the best," Peter said. He paled before the two seniors, briefly nervous again, then quickly went on, "I'm gonna run this school one day."

"We'll see," Carter said, nodding. "You just might."

"Off to a good start?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Not bad. Not at all. Smoke?"

Peter wordlessly accepted the Camel, held it toward Mikey's lighter, then took a drag and instantly doubled over coughing.

"Lookit your boy," Mikey laughed. "Were we ever that new?"

"Yeah," Carter said, looking down at his powerful body, his heavy, well-muscled arms and shoulders, thinking of the thin little sticks he'd had as a freshman a long time ago. "We grew up, though. Peter will, too. He's gonna work out with us for the rest of the school year, and he'll hang out with us all summer, too."

"I will?" Peter gaped, looking thrilled beyond description, scarcely able to believe his good luck. He quickly recovered, however, and added in a 'cool' macho voice, "Well, yeah, like- of course. It's not cool if I'm not there."

"Any friends of yours call you Petey, or Pete?" Mikey asked.

"Well, yeah, a few," Peter allowed. "Why?"

"Better keep that to just your best friend," Mikey went on. "Used to be I was Mikey to all kinds of people. Now I'm Mike. Only people that can call me Mikey and live now are Carter, 'cause we're best friends, and my brother, 'cause he's awesome."

"Okay," Peter nodded. "I guess making everyone call me Peter helps, for respect and stuff?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Peter took another drag and struggled to suppress his coughing, but he managed to exhale properly at least. "Okay," he said at last. "It's almost two. Want me to get everyone in here?"

"Sure, man," Carter said.

"You got it." With that, Peter left, off to carry out the king's will.

The seniors and juniors started in a minute or two later. One senior, Jake Lysander, looked to be arguing with Peter, but Peter gestured to Carter and Mikey, seated high above the gathering crowd of boys, and the two rulers of Chamberlain High offered a thumbs-up in return. Peter looked thrilled, and Jake shook his head in disbelief, but reluctantly shook hands with the freshman.

"Train 'em young," Carter said to Mikey. "Never forget that. Find that one kid who's really got balls, who'll do anything to be just like you. Promote him and make him feel special. He'll revere you like a fuckin' god. And never forget to shit on the freshmen hard. Their lives need to be so fuckin' bad that they'll wanna die every day of tryouts. Shit on them all year. Run them until they can't take it anymore and then run them again. It's how you make them into killers. We take cubs and make them into wolves."

"They're well-trained this year," Mikey noted, watching as Peter moved around, shouting orders until the freshmen were rigidly at attention in a ragged, but recognizable formation.

"They're always well-trained. Remember what it was like for us. It was hell but we lived. And we're tougher because of it."

"I can't believe we got to be friends with Henry and Mark Evans when we were little kids," Mikey said in awe.

"Speaking of," Carter said, flipping open his phone. "Heil Hitler."

"Everyone there?" Henry Evans asked.

"You bet, Henry."

"Mark and I will be over there in a couple minutes. Tell Mikey if he's not at your graduation with us I'll kick his ass."

"You'll be in town 'till then?"

"Yeah. Congratulations, the reign's almost over."

"I learned everything I know from you," Carter told him reverently. "Everything."

"You did good, man. I'll see you in a minute."

Carter got to his feet as Henry hung up, and Mikey did the same. "Okay," Carter said to his best friend. "Get these assholes in formation. Everyone."

"Done," Mikey answered.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Henry and Mark Evans strode onto the football field twenty minutes later, both dressed head to toe in designer clothes, each of them wearing stylish wraparound sunglasses. They were each smoking a cigarette, each too detached, too cool to give a shit that they were late. It didn't matter whether they showed up late or not. The entire show was about them. Every athlete out on the field waited motionlessly in the late May sun, watching out of the corners of their eyes as a pair of living legends walked into view.

Carter snapped his arm up in the Party salute as the Evans brothers approached, a gesture that had become regarded as pretty cool among the football and hockey boys in recent years. They all knew the Nazis weren't as bad as their teachers tried to say, and nobody wanted Jews or weaklings on the team anyway. Besides, the identical grins the brothers sported as they returned the gesture from the elbow, like Hitler himself did, showed that they were clearly pleased.

"Hey, Carter," Henry said warmly, extending his hand.

"Henry," Carter smiled. "It's fuckin' good to see you."

"You turned out to be a pretty cool guy," Mark noted. "Both of you did. Goddamn, man. All you needed was four years."

"Still didn't win every game," Mikey admitted with some reluctance. "We got close."

"You tried to be us," Mark said easily, "but you failed 'cause you can't be us. You can get close but you won't be us. It's cool, man. You did better than anybody else could have."

"Good discipline," Henry noted with pleasure, turning toward the freshmen and sophomore formations. "Looks like your boys follow orders."

"They know what Mikey and me'll do to them if they don't. They know what to do in the presence of their king."

"Check this out," Mikey whispered, then shouted at the 9th graders, "HEY! Freshmen! Bow before your king! Bow, you fuckin' losers!"

Instantly, every 9th grader, including Peter, who stood front and center, bowed at the waist, turning towards Carter, Mikey, Henry and Mark.

"They'll strip naked and piss in the parking lot if I tell them to," Carter boasted. "They'll do anything they're told. They don't think. They obey."

"As it should be," Mark nodded.

"Good-looking bunch of seniors and juniors, no fuckin' homo," Henry added. "You guys obviously got people going to the gym."

"Everyone's into martial arts, like Mikey and me are," Carter said proudly. "Most of us do karate. We get to use it on the nerds and the losers sometimes. Once in a while someone fights back, or we run into some kid from another school in town and he wants to fight, and we kick their asses."

"Got a picture here from Prom this year," Mikey added, taking a moment to brush at his stylish cut of shaggy red hair. "My idea."

"Don't listen to this asshole," Carter said. "It was my idea."

Carter handed over the picture after glancing at it a moment. Henry and Mark looked down.

"Is that the Party salute?" Mark asked.

"It's a bunch of guys in Prom suits doing the fuckin' Nazi Party salute," Henry laughed incredulously. "Mark, how come we never thought of that?"

"We were too busy winning another undefeated season on both our teams," Mark replied smugly.

"Carter, that's you and Mikey, huh? Right in the center of the group? Man, and here I thought you guys liked Jews and retards and shit."

"Hell, no, man," Mikey laughed.

"Someday we'll put 'em all in their place," Carter said, "but at least we got 'em under control at this school."

"Still got that signed football, Mikey?" Henry asked.

"It's in a locked case in the hallway on the second floor of my house," Mikey responded proudly. "Bulletproof glass."

"Expensive bulletproof glass," Andrew Cadiz added, coming up behind his brother.

"Andy!" Mikey shouted, spinning around and grabbing his brother in a tight bear-hug.

"Hey, m-oof! Holy shit! Goddamn!" Andrew gasped. "Fuck, you're strong!"

"You didn't tell me you were coming back," Mikey said. "I thought it wasn't until next week."

"Aren't I allowed to surprise my brother?" Andrew asked in mock astonishment.

Mikey let go and grinned at his older brother. "Okay, I'll let you have this one. Did Henry and Mark put you up to this, dude?"

"I don't know who that guy is," Henry grinned.

"Never seen him before," Mark added.

"He got inside our truck somehow," Henry went on.

"Decided we'd drive him over here so he doesn't spend the summer in New York fucking more college girls."

"How many'd you get this year?" Mikey asked eagerly.

"About eight," Andrew replied casually. "Pills, Mikey. Always keep your pills on you."

"I ran out again but Carter fixed me up."

"Good work, drug dealer," Andrew said.

"No problem," Carter answered.

"Hey, who's this fucker here?" Henry demanded. "Hey, freshman! Stand up at attention! You, blond guy! Get over here!"

While his classmates went rigidly to attention again, Peter Lancaster sprinted over and stood in front of the greatest rulers his school had ever seen, openly staring at them in awe even as he snapped to attention again.

"Kid looks like he's trying to copy you, Carter," Mark noted.

"We're friends," Carter said. "I let him know on Friday. He's a good kid. Best football and hockey player we had this year on the JV team. He follows orders. He lives for football and hockey and he hates weakness. He's got a lot of potential."

"Pretty fit for a 9th grader," Henry observed. "Looks like he comes from strong stock. He get laid yet?"

"Just last night. He told me about it."

"Okay, kid, tell us about it," Mark challenged.

Peter started talking in a calm, steady voice, graphically describing his night with a sophomore beauty. He got more and more descriptive as Henry and Mark ordered him to add more details, until finally he was talking about every possible aspect of what he did, what she did, how it all went, and how he felt about his first time then and now. His cheeks heated but he didn't stutter or halt once.

"What's your name?" Henry demanded.

"Peter Lancaster, sir."

"Sir!" Henry laughed. "I like that."

"He called you sir!" Mark chuckled. "Good job, kid. You get to live today."

"We once broke a freshman's neck because he didn't call me sir," Henry explained. "Just grab, twist, snap. It's okay. Kids that age are disposable anyway. Your life doesn't really matter until you're in 11th grade. Until then you're fodder. You agree?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You like being friends with Carter and Mikey here?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Carter likes you," Mark went on, "and that says a lot. How about you join Andrew, Mikey, Carter, and some of the other upperclassmen at our house? We have our own gym in the basement."

"I'll drive you over there," Carter laughed, clapping the freshman on the back. Already over-awed by getting so close to a pair of living legends, Peter almost fell over as even a casual blow from Carter hit him with considerable force.

"Go stand with the other freshmen," Carter told him. "You're their king. Stick with me, then with Mikey next year, and you'll go far. Nothing will ever stop you. Understand?"

"Yes, sir- yes, Carter," Peter nodded fervently. "I understand."

"Okay, boys," Henry roared, raising his voice effortlessly to carry the entire length and breadth of the crowd of high school athletes. "Mark and I are back to see how our old teams are doing. Have Carter and Mike done a good job?"

"YES, SIR!" the boys roared back.

"I agree! Only they didn't bring in an undefeated season! Only Mark and I did that, and we did it year after year after year! That's perfection! We are perfection! But you people obviously haven't listened to Carter and Mike close enough, or maybe you'd never have lost! But because you guys still kicked the shit out of the other teams, because you won State again for football and hockey, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do."

Henry pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing his massive chest, the rippling, bulging muscles that decorated his entire frame. Numerous pairs of eyes widened and Carter smiled, knowing that yet another reason had been added as to why this visit would be remembered forever.

"Football game, right now, shirts and skins!" Henry announced. "Carter, you're with me. Time to pick teams. Mark and I're gonna show you little girls how to play some real football."

"Peter, get over here!" Carter shouted.

The tough little freshman sprinted over and promptly yanked his shirt off, flexing his pectoral muscles impressively. Or trying to, anyway; Carter gave one quick flex and humbled the younger boy, only to have the same done to him by Henry, who laughed and clapped him on one shoulder.

"It's okay, Carter," Henry said. "You and Mikey, you're the strongest of mortals. But just remember that Mark and I are gods."


A/N: 5-9-2020.

And finally, I managed to update this story! A second prologue chapter is now done. Chapter 1 was posted on 10-14-2019, so it's been almost 7 months to the day. Pretty incredible how fast time flies. As AM83220 can tell you, though, I've made plenty of progress with getting my ideas lined up for the story, establishing the lead-up to the main events of this work, which will take place starting in 2009.

Egalatarian Helper sent me a PM back in February 2020, asking when I'd be updating this story. Lack of access to a working laptop got in my way at the time, but I resolved that problem finally in late April 2020. I am now back at it and making good progress getting Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 outlined. Ironically, I started working on Chapter 4 recently, alternating between it and Chapter 2, so 2 and 4 are both done and nearly done respectively. But I need to write 3 before I can post 4! I'll have plenty of time for editing at any rate. No guarantees about when Chapter 3 will be posted, but my goal is to get it posted by the end of, say, June 2020, which gives me more than a month to work with.

AM83220 is very much the reason this story exists, as it was him that contacted me back in 2012, if I remember right, asking me to write a sequel to "The Second Face." And here we are. So make sure to send him a PM if you liked my work, and consider looking at his writing, too. It's excellent.

There are two other authors/users on this site I should mention; fear2breathe and phorosz. They're both eloquent and generous readers/reviewers and I have enjoyed reading their own work on this fandom. I sincerely hope they are able to read this sometime, because they deserve the praise. Thank you both; you make this small fandom a great deal more fun and satisfying to post work in.