Addition.

Chapter 4

A pinch, in my arm.

It stayed there, and then I felt it being drawn out carefully.

I still stared at darkness though, when I regained my consciousness, and I remembered what had happened.

The black sack over my head, wrestling to fight off men, then nothingness.

My arms ached, but I fought the sore feeling in them as I raised them to removed the bag. But two arms met my wrists, and I felt too weak to try and fight them off.

"Yes, constraint her. She's clearly a Five. Dangerous." I heard a man instruct.

A reply followed. "Yes, Sir."

I clenched my fists, almost eager to punch, but I felt myself over-exerted, exhausted.

I had only truly felt this one other time, when I was fourteen, when I was placed in a duplication of World War IV, 4152.

Buildings were set on fire, along with every other ordinary thing. They crumbled to the ground, and women and men were running, bloody, but running.

Dirt and camouflage masked their faces, and they carried weapons that weighed more than themselves.

Grenades and bombs were carelessly tossed, as bullets were carelessly fired, as people carelessly set explosions and carelessly flung them towards a building, or a person.

It was a horrifying experience, especially for a young child.

I can't recall exact details, as it was over three years ago.

But I remember being terrified, yet I never showed it.

I allowed my hands to rest limply, as a man with rough and calloused hands tugged them closer to him, and slipped chilling constraints over my wrists, and tightened them to their maximum limit, and I felt parts of them digging into my skin.

"Now, now, Thomas. We wouldn't want our guest to feel unwelcome." The voice who ordered handcuffs to be placed on me spoke again, with a tone of mockery in his voice.

I felt the constraints loosen, just two clicks, then my locked wrists were tossed back to my lap.

"Of course, Mister President," the man who cuffed my wrists answered, and chuckled when he finished.

"Mister. . .President. . ." I murmured slowly, and then it clicked.

"I figured the President would have more of a polite welcoming committee, though." I spoke slowly, feeling my eyes begin to droop once again.

The President laughed, and I heard the squeak of a chair, the shuffle of footsteps, and he pulled off the sack.

"A government official recently told you about reclassification, am I correct?" His voice was demanding, and firm.

I tried to keep my eyes open, yet found myself too weak, and unable to answer the question, even with a one worded response, like yes, or no. I found myself nodding, though.

"He told us that himself, at the hour of 10:00 pm. Because he so carelessly gave away this vital, confidential information, he has been imprisoned."

I nodded once again, wearily. I took in the information though, and processed it carefully.

"But you know about this now, which is a threat to the system. So we have concluded two outcomes. One, we would have to execute you, which wouldn't be anyone's favor, as we have watched your reactions and behaviors, and you are completely distant."

I nodded again, sluggishly, though my brain buzzed with nervousness, stress, and tension.

"Or two, make the reclassification sooner then we hoped. Most of the officials agreed to this option, so your execution is obviously no longer the answer."

Relief clouded my thoughts, in place of the worry.

"Onto our second matter. We have decided to tell you why the reclassification is going to take place."

Anticipation replaced my relief in that instant.

"We have decided to reclassify all of the ranks, because we plan on adding a new rank, a Six.

In order to allow this, we would reclassify everyone, to be certain that there would be no corruptions or accidents, like a Seven or an Eight when we have the Ranks produce offspring."