Enhancement

- [ 4 ] -

The nameless woman beckons us towards her and the hazmat men. Frozen, my throat threatens to close, and I can't swallow. The sterile scene reminds me of a chemistry experiment, not one fit for humans. Not one that I think I can survive unscathed.

"The deal, boys. I'll take it off the table," the woman threatens calmly.

Chase and I glance at each other. I suddenly feel a stomach ache nag at my ribs, forming quickly.

The woman grabs our arms and pulls us into the second room. Her grasp on my arm is like an ElectriWrist cuff as she shoves us into the hands of the hazmat people. Their plastic-gloved hands guide us into two white arm chairs laced with glowing sensors.

Slowly, I sit in the chair. The hands take my arms and loop them into loose strappings. Then they lock my ankles to the chair padding with metal cuffs and switch on a holographic grid that shines onto my entire body. I don't know where the holograms emit from, but it freaks me out. Between the silent room and faint clicking noises of the technology, I feel like I have a shiny new death sentence.

Chase sits in his own arm chair, facing me. We shake our heads and try to stifle our fears away. I hate fear. I hate it, but it doesn't prevail over fear, so I'm trembling in mounting terror, not anger.

"Okay, Numbers 2 and 3, the Task will begin on my count," one of the hazmat people says. I watch his lips move quietly behind his mask, and his voice echoes seamlessly from the invisible sound system in the room.

"We will tell you to close your eyes, and when you feel a three-second pulse in your neck, open them. Relax and assume normal bodily functions until you feel the long pulse again. Then close your eyes again and open them on the pulse, yes?"

I nod at the hazmat man. Oh, God, what have I agreed to do?

The worker turns to the other masked people. "Okay, let's give it a start."

I hear the crinkle of plastic clothing behind me, and then something stabs me in my neck. I growl in shock, lifting my hands to rip the sharp object away from me. My hands bounce off of my own restraining loops on my wrists. I forgot they were there.

"Calm down, Number 3. It's just an injection," a voice behind me huffs. The stinging lessens, but still tingles my warm neck uncomfortably. I feel the weight of a device on my neck, then something moves inside my neck. Yeah, something moves underneath my skin!

"It's a probe," the worker deadpans. "Now sit still, Number 3. You're not helping when you try to free yourself from the chair."

I try to stay still, but it feels like there's a spider crawling underneath my skin.

"Clearance to start the task?"

"On your count," the woman says. She looks Chase directly in the eyes before turning to me. "Honesty, boys, and don't forget it."

"I pledge my allegiance," Chase says. The snarky words slip from his mouth without a filter. I want to snatch them back for him, on the verge of disbelief and laughter, but it's too late. The woman throws a glare at Chase and storms over to him. She throws  a strong punch directly at his face, and then the swarm of red Screeners re-enters the room.

It takes me a second to realize what's happening. The Screeners unleash Chase from the chair and throw him to the ground. Chase struggles and yells at them, and I'm screaming, too. My stomach scrambles, and I yank against my own restraints.

"No, let him go! Stop!" I bellow.

The Screeners stick their hands around Chase's neck and slam his head into the ground. Chase scream when his skull hits the ground with the most horrifying crack I've ever heard. Clearly concussed, the Screeners drag Chase out of the room.

"No, stop! Please, no!" I cry. I heave for a breath, to protest even louder. "Chase, man, are you okay? Let him go! Please! Don't--"

BOOM.

"W-What? W-Why the--" I begin feebly.

"The Task begins in 3..." the hazmat behind me says. To me, his voice is ruthlessly steady.

"2.."

I yell for Chase, hoping the bullet missed him. I kick my legs against their cuffs, but they don't budge or let me free.

"1..."

One of the Screeners re-enters the room, red splotches of blood on his black visor. A gun hangs from his hand. I screech at him. Quit messing with my emotions! Don't harm my friends. Stop taking away everything we value and want and love!

The injection in my neck pulses a few times, then releases a longer one. The hazmats count the seconds out loud, and once they reach three, tears sting my eyes. I don't dare to shut my eyes.

"Number 3!" the hazmat yells. He jams his fingers over my eyes and shuts my eyelids for me. He holds his hand there, and I feel it fade away. I whip my eyes open, glaring still.

I'm not in the white room. I'm not in the stupid cushiony chair. I'm not in the thing they call the Enhancement Project, at least according to that devil lady.

I'm in a Sky-Train.

-- -- -- -- --

"mess with their emotions" was the winner. of course, like those Screeners, i had to take away what you guys all liked: Chase.

of course i did... >:)

Question: Choose what's next: a familiar scene, a lone event, or a continued test.