"B-But d-don't c-c-count on it-t-t."

My body freezes over again, control withdrawn from me. The door of our cell glides open, and Stephen and I march out, submissive and afraid. What is going on? How much worse can our situation get?

Pairs of inmates equidistant from each other file into the hallway, stiff and solid. I never truly considered the possibility of other people being contained in the Enhancement Project. But staring me in the face are inmates just like us.

The only girl within my vision blinks wildly, scanning the hall. My eyebrows furrow, even though they don't move an inch. And then it clicks; this girl must have this figured out. The only thing we can control is our blinking.

All the prisoners forcibly morph into two distinct lines, our feet stomping in sync as we shuffle around. Stephen's robotic presence stays next to me. I hope he's mentally awake and comprehending his surroundings.

Then we march.

My feet follow the pair in front of me, all of us barefoot. I can't help but notice the swishes of the wrists in front of me as they leave black trails through the air.

I focus on the blinking girl's tattoo, reading her number.

398

My eyes dart to her partner's wrist.

397

My stomach drops to my toes, and I suddenly feel the need to swallow. But I can't. No footsteps sound behind me. No one follows Stephen and I. We are numbers 399 and 400: the end of the line. The worst available prisoners.

Sorted by numbers, our army of inmates marches down the remainder of the hall. We filter into a large room with high ceilings and pale floors. Platforms and pale ladders overlook the room, menacing and icy. Screeners line the walls, their red armor bent over prisoners strapped to cold metal tables. As they expertly tattoo their frozen victims, I watch black ink slosh in all the container, lethal and deadly.

The buzzing of syringes fills the room, sending chills up my spine. I try to make my feet move, to run away, to hide, but they continue marching. They're not my feet anymore. The Enhancement Project controls them.

In unison, our line of prisoners takes three steps forward. My stomach knots, nervous anticipation rushing through my bloodstream. After every fifteen seconds, we take three more steps.

Seven more pairs in front of us. Impossible amounts of dread fills my body. Why is this happening? Why are there 400 people being controlled by experiments? Is this what the Enhancement Project is really about? Enhancing the control of a bunch of Screeners and scientists? To turn teenagers into robots?

Six more pairs of feet.

Then five.

I steal a glimpse of the next experiment we're approaching: a group of finely-dressed scientists. With their glistening AirPads and sharp fingers, they document discussions as their mouths move. One scientist, a dark-haired but balding man, uses his AirPad to direct the prisoners in front of us to different tattooing stations.

I want to smash the AirPad into a millions shards of glass. It's horrible that the lives of 400 people depend on a single piece of technology in between some scientist's hands. Humans aren't just lab equipment or tattooed numbers; we're people.

Bile tickles the back of my throat. I was right; scientists are the creators of the Enhancement Project. They're the ones with the AirPad, but how? Why? When will enough control be enough for them? Do they ever stop to think about the terror they're forcing into everyone? Is terror exactly what they want, or do they prefer the power?

Four more pairs are in front of us. Both the boy and the girl are sent to the right.

Then three. The girl goes to the right, the boy marches left.

The pair in front of us takes three steps forward. They extend their wrists for the panel of white coats to read. I watch in cold fear.

"These two," one of the scientists chuckles lightly, "I think we should hold onto them for now."

"I disagree," a sharp-faced woman remarks. "397 will have an excellent performance in the second stage of the Project, as would 398."

"Their resistance makes them dangerous. Anything could slip from their tongues."

"But we have the system perfected," the lady points out, "They'll learn if they haven't already, right 397?"

397 nods slowly, inhaling a deep breath unrestrained. He doesn't run away or attack the scientists, though I know he wants to. He's either learned his lesson or decided not to be stupid.

"Turn your head to the right, 397," another scientist instructs. The boy obeys, displaying a rugged cheek for Stephen and I to see.

"Now left."

He turns his head again, showing us a scarred cheek glittering with redness. My knees weaken mentally. It's bloody just like Stephen's forehead.

"That can be easily fixed," the woman says. "I say we keep the girl and send the boy."

Keep her, I panic, and send him? Is that good or bad?

"No," another man comments. "It's too soon. We must keep them both. They've both been adequate in part one." A murmur of agreement arises from the group. The balding scientist taps his AirPad, sending both teens to the right.

Unleashed from his facial constraints, the boy whispers to his mute partner, "Thank God."

My stomach sinks again. What does he know that we don't? Stephen and I take our final three steps, unwilling as ever. All of the scientists' faces brighten at the sight of us, ready to sort their last two pieces of fresh meat. Our arms extend towards the group, tattoos visible and fists clenched. My stomach refuses to settle.

"The best for last," the woman smirks. "Our two finest subject, both of them who've experienced some interesting screenings."

"399 and 400 have had quite some history together," another replies.

I practically feel Stephen twitch next to me. He never knew about my screening, and I never got the chance to tell him I was screened, too. Regret floods my senses, mixing horribly with my fear. Desperate, unstoppable fear.

"399 and 400 are a no-brainer," the controller announces to his peers. "Does everybody still agree about our past decision for them?" Everyone nods as my eyes dart between the scientists, attempting to read their smug looks.

"It'll be sad to see them go, especially after two years with our precious 399," one scientist says.

Everyone nods. "But we have very high hopes for the both of them. Especially since 400 has been our true MVP, now hasn't she?"

With a few chuckles and taps on the AirPad, we are moved to the left. Stephen and I walk in sync, marching towards the Screeners' empty work stations. Each forced to lay on adjacent metal tables, I can only guess at what the next torture method will be. Fear and nausea cloud my judgement, hindering my useless resistance.

The Screener awaiting me doesn't bother belting me down to the table. She plugs a new needle and bottle of black ink into her syringe and eagerly works on my wrists.

Pain shoots through my arm as the Screener completely blots out my two 400's, transforming them into bleak rectangles. I wrack my brain for a logical explanation, coming up empty. Why are they doing this? Why are the 400's being covered?

The Screener sets down her syringe, and I rise rigidly, standing next to the table. I steal a glance at Stephen, and our eyes connect for a second before we're forced out of each other's vision. Stephen looks much better with the dried blood washed off his face, but I'm still so nervous. He must be, too.

I steal an additional glance at Stephen. To my surprise, the wound in his forgets and bruise on his cheek are both gone without a trace. As if it never existed, I think to myself, First the tattoos, now the injuries. I hope our lives aren't next.

Within the minute, the prisoners on the left side of the room begin to move. Across the area, hundreds of the inmates form a tight line. They will most likely go back to their air-tight cells, remaining in the Enhancement Project while the rest of us inmates head into the unknown. There's no way to tell which side will be safer.

The line across the room begins its second march, stomping out of the room. I watch 397 and 398 as they leave my frozen view. I wish them luck silently.

My feet move below my own body, the prisoners creating an organized rank once more. This time, I'm in line behind Stephen, an endless number of inmates in front of us. Around the room, Screeners click on their helmets. My body tenses without moving an inch.

The loudspeaker's mechanical voice addresses us ominously. "Congratulations, subjects. You have been chosen for part two of the Enhancement Project's experiment. It is now time for your partial executions."

Screeners jump into action, pulling out guns and blasting them at our heads. Screams echo across the room as a bullet hits my skull, my vision descending into darkness. My body falls paralyzed to the ground, and my shoulder nails itself hard against the floor.

"Subjects will receive their final experimental injections."

A sharp needle pierces my spine as an electrified current is sent through my nerves. Unearthly pain erupts like acne all over my body; burns, lashes, needles, bullets, and every other form of torture burns into my skin. Deafening screams burst from my lungs, masked by everyone elses'. Every lash turns my vision white, welcoming ugly screams from my lips. Uncontrollable tears drip down my face in hot streams.

Why is this happening? What did I ever do to deserve so much pain?

The beatings continues for what feels like hours until the cries around me slowly diminish. The only screams left are Stephen's. His yells shoot right into my ears, shredding my heart. My voice cracks, and I grunt as another invisible lash hits my back. The hard kick of a boot knocks the air out of my stomach.

Only then do I wish myself dead. As if waiting for my command, my heart ceases to function.

-- -- -- -- --

intense chapter? i thought so, too. the winner of last chapter's vote was mental testing, so those "unearthly" lashes were indeed mental thanks to the final injection.

next chapter will be the beginning of part two of the Enhancement Project. this is going to be similar to a chapter of Enhancement i wrote in my writing workshop class in september.

bascially, this is going to be amazing.

Question 1: comment your first name. maybe it'll be the name of a new character if you're lucky.

Question 2: pick a month: august or september.

**PS: The next THREE chapters are supposed to be short. You'll know what I mean when you see them!**