Chapter 4 Demons Are Real! Repent!

The parking lot of Millbrook High was now a crime scene. Yellow police tape cordoned off the area where students had huddled in disbelief only hours ago. Now, officers stood guard, ensuring no one else entered the building, their radios crackling with dispatch updates. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the lawn, where small groups of students lingered, whispering in shock.

In the center of it all, Troy Milligan's parents stood in a state of silent devastation. Mr. Milligan's large, calloused hands held his wife tightly as she wept into his chest, her sobs muffled but heart-wrenching. He stared ahead, his face stony and distant, barely moving as the world fell apart around him. The body of his only son was already being transported to the morgue, but the bloodstains on the pavement near the entrance still hadn't dried. He couldn't bring himself to look at them.

Nearby, clusters of students murmured to each other in stunned whispers. Many had been there—had seen the fight, seen the impossible.

"Yeah, Troy was a jerk," one boy muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But he didn't deserve that. No one deserves to die like that. What the hell even was that?"

"I mean, I hated the guy," another girl said quietly, biting her lip. "He was always such an asshole, but... he was still a person, right? You don't just... kill someone. Not like that."

"Peter's a freak," a voice cut through the crowd, bitter and venomous. "I always knew there was something wrong with him. That guy? There was something off about him."

"Doesn't matter," the first boy shook his head. "I hope they catch him. I don't care what Troy did; nobody should go out like that."

The conversation around them was filled with the hum of disbelief, but not everyone was so morose. The internet had already gotten its hands on the horrific footage, clips of Peter dodging Troy's punches and, ultimately, the fatal blow. It was going viral.

Online Reaction

On Twitter, Reddit, and countless other forums, posts and videos exploded within minutes of the incident.

A popular gaming influencer had tweeted:

"Lol we got a mutant before GTA6. #PeterTheFreak"

Within seconds, the tweet had amassed thousands of retweets and likes.

A video clip on TikTok, one of the first to capture Peter's final punch, had already garnered over a million views with the caption:

"Fake as f—, this is clearly AI-generated. There's no way this happened IRL."

But the darker side of the internet had picked up on the footage too.

"This is the apocalypse. Demons are real. Repent! Christ is your only salvation," read one ominous post on a Christian forum, echoed by several like it across platforms.

And then, the conspiracy theorists were already working overtime. A new thread emerged on an anonymous forum claiming the government had secretly engineered "super-soldiers" and that Peter was the first of many. Theories genetic manipulation, and alien interventions filled the comments section.

---

Inside the still chaotic halls of Millbrook High, Detective Connors was finishing up with the teachers. He was a seasoned investigator with thirty years on the force, his sharp eyes missing nothing. He stood in front of Mrs. Hendricks, Peter's guidance counselor, who was visibly shaken but attempting to stay calm.

"Peter was… a good kid," Mrs. Hendricks began, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the tissue in her lap. "Quiet. Kept to himself, mostly. He'd been bullied by Troy for years, but I never thought… I mean, no one thought he'd—" Her voice faltered, and she bit her lip.

Connors scribbled notes in his worn notebook, her expression neutral. "Had Peter ever shown any signs of aggression? Any outbursts or incidents that might suggest he could be violent?"

Mrs. Hendricks shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Never. Peter was... a good student, kind. He was always the one getting picked on. I tried to intervene, but I never imagined—" She broke off, staring out the window, her voice trailing off.

Connors nodded slowly, clicking his pen closed. "We'll be in touch, Mrs. Hendricks. If anything comes to mind, anything at all, you call me." He handed the woman her card, though the look in the counselor's eyes said she wouldn't be able to think clearly for a long time.

As Connors stepped into the hall, Officer Mendez caught up with him, looking pale. "We've interviewed about twenty students. They're all saying the same thing.

Connors frowned, slipping his pen into her jacket pocket. "What's the autopsy report?"

Mendez grimaced. "Troy Milligan's chest cavity was completely collapsed. Blunt force trauma so severe it would've killed him instantly. No human being could do that, not without a weapon. But Peter didn't use one. His fist… it went right through Troy."

Connors paused, his mind spinning through the implications. "So… what? You think we're dealing with some kind of superhuman?"

"I don't know what to think," Mendez said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But whatever this is… it's not normal."

---

In the sterile, dimly lit operations center of CIA headquarters, Director Jonathan Hale stood at the head of the room, staring at a wall of screens displaying real-time footage from Millbrook. His square jaw was set in a tight line, his gray hair slicked back in military precision. Around him, analysts were frantically working at their terminals, tracking data, compiling reports, and pulling in live feeds from satellites, drones, and local police.

Agent Sarah Reeves, one of Hale's best operatives, approached him with a tablet in hand, her steps quick and purposeful.

"Sir," she began, her voice low and professional. "We've picked up chatter across all major platforms—Twitter, TikTok, Reddit. The footage from Millbrook High is viral. The public's calling him a mutant, some are claiming it's AI-generated, but we've verified the source."

Hale's eyes remained fixed on the screens, watching as police cordoned off the area around the school. "I don't care about public opinion right now, Reeves. I want every team in Pennsylvania combing through that town. Every square inch of Millbrook, every lead—nothing gets past us."

Reeves nodded, swiping through data on her tablet. "The satellite feeds show Peter Johnson running to the outskirts of Millbrook, towards an abandoned industrial complex. Local police have been briefed, and a perimeter has been set up. We're tracking his movements, but… Sir, we need to consider the possibility that this isn't just a local matter anymore."

Hale turned to look at her for the first time, his gaze piercing. "What do you mean?"

"We've scanned through recent intelligence reports, and there have been similar... anomalies reported in isolated areas across the country. None of them were as public as this, but if Peter's some kind of genetic mutation or if he's been exposed to advanced technology... there could be others."

Hale's expression darkened. "How many others?"

Park hesitated. "The FBI has at least five active investigations into unexplained incidents. But nothing like this. Peter Johnson is the first confirmed case of… well, of whatever this is."

Hale clenched his jaw, staring back at the footage of the factory. "We need to get ahead of this. Before the media spins it out of control."

"I've already reached out to the FBI," Park added. "They're sending their own task force, but they don't have the resources we do. We're also cross-referencing any known government projects related to human enhancement. DARPA, private contractors, black ops divisions. So far, no direct leads."

Hale gave a curt nod. "Good. Keep me posted on their movements. We need him in custody before the end of the week. I don't care if we have to bring in every agency across the Eastern seaboard—we're bringing him in alive."

"What about the cover-up?" She asked, lowering her voice.

Hale's eyes were cold as steel. "That's the easy part. The hard part is finding out who—if anyone—created him."

---

Outside the factory in Millbrook, police cruisers had already begun to encircle the area, their red and blue lights flashing through the trees. Inside the command center, Agent Park stood by as he monitored the incoming feed from their drones.

"Whatever you are, Peter Johnson," he muttered under his breath, "you won't be out there for long."

Peter was in their crosshairs, but what they didn't know was just how far beyond human he had become.