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Subject 6 knew his place.
All the boys did. Even though they were all young, 6 and the other oldest boys had just turned eight, they knew what was expected of them.
Every day, 6 kept his head down, he listened to Father and the guards, he worked through his training with focus, he didn't resist when the doctors performed their experiments, and he tried not to fight with his brothers. He was a good boy.
But he still felt a constant fear and exhaustion, the rigorous training and painful experiments pushing his small body to its limits, but denying it wasn't an option. As long as he was good, he had a roof over his head, steady meals, and a pillow to sleep with. (And if he was really good a blanket.)
Through it all, he preferred to be alone. Father didn't like it when the boys socialized too much, not that there was anything to talk about anyway. 6 had one escape, one place of security.
His bunk was the furthest down the room, and there was a tiny sliver of space between the bottom bunk and the wall, just enough space for him to slip into. 6 would always settle into this little place when he got the chance, passing the time by scratching at the floor, peeling at the wallpaper, or savoring the sun or moonlight that filtered through the window. During the night or during rest time, 6 could usually be found in that spot. The other boys didn't mess with it or dare to take it for themselves. That was 6’s place.
Today, however, something was different.
6 had just returned with the other boys after a grueling fitness training session, and had been eager to rest in his safe spot. But when he got there, he saw something that surprised him.
There was someone in 6’s place. A brother he didn't recognize.
He suddenly remembered something he couldn't believe he had forgotten, the birthdate of some of the boys was today. He'd overheard Father say that some of the boys were being moved out of the nursery, now that they were old enough. And one of them had found his safe space.
“Hey,” 6 began, “you're in my spot.”
His brother looked at him with piercing blue eyes, he didn't respond, just stared with an emotionless expression. The younger boys disturbed 6, they were quieter and more reserved and seemed to be favored by Father.
The young boy turned away without a word. His posture was stiff, but 6 saw the way he curled up, hugging his knees to his chest.
“It's nice, isn't it?” 6 softly teased, “Having a place to hide?”
His brother stayed quiet, but he received his answer from the way the boy hugged his knees a little tighter. 6 sat down on the bed, his legs dangling off the side.
“They just moved you from the nursery, right?”
The boy gave a subtle nod, slowly turning to face 6.
“I'm 6, who are you?”
The boys sat in silence for almost a minute. 6 wondered if he should repeat himself, but his brother finally mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?”
The boy muttered even quieter, facing away once again.
“I can't hear you.” 6 snapped in frustration.
He buried his face in his knees and held up his hands. He first held up four fingers, then seven.
“47?”
The little boy nodded. 6 slipped down into the little space, facing 47. It was then that he got a good look at him. He had the same fierce emotionlessness that all the youngest boys had, but there was something else, a sort of quiet desperation. Maybe, like 6, having a safe space wasn't just an enjoyment for him, it was a need.
“You can stay for a little bit, 47,” 6 grumbled, “but this is still my spot.”
Their eyes met, and 47 seemed to show a hint of gratefulness in his soft expression.
6 didn't get along well with his brothers most of the time, and would shout at or push them away if they tried to intrude in his safe space. But now, he didn't mind 47 being here, he was shy and quiet, not demanding or aggressive. His presence made the safe space feel less lonely, something 6 never thought he'd enjoy.
Maybe his brothers weren't all so bad.
Time passed, and 47 never returned to that safe place. 6 hardly interacted with him throughout the next few weeks.
They continued with the tasks Father expected from them, and 47 quickly proved himself.
There was constant competition among the many boys because how well you performed during training and how obedient you were would depend on a lot of things. The strongest and most well-behaved were given more food and supplies, and the weakest slept on bare mattresses and skipped meals.
6 was always good enough to get by, he was no one's favorite but rarely punished.
47, however, was perfect.
He was incredibly skilled, more talented than even the oldest of the boys. His brothers often watched in a fit of rage as he was actually praised by Father.
6 didn't care, but he watched as the other boys started to hate 47. Around Father, the guards, and the scientists, they were respectful and tolerated each other. But behind closed doors, 6 saw the glares directed at 47 and heard the insults. They were harsher than they needed to be during sparring, and he swore he saw them trying to break the weapons he was assigned to. He found the way they treated him childish, and so he stayed out of it.
That was until he noticed something else.
He was used to 47 being given more food than the rest of them. A second bread roll, a larger portion of mashed potatoes, it was expected that the “golden subject” would be given that treatment.
But one day, as they were all eating dinner in the mess hall, 6 sat across from 47. He was absentmindedly eating his food when he saw the boy sitting right next to 47, Subject 9, glancing towards the guards watching them. When one of the guards had his back turned, 9 suddenly reached over to 47’s tray with his spoon, took a large scoop of rice, and put it on his tray.
6 froze for a moment, unsure if what he saw really happened. But then it happened again. Subject 31 snuck over to their table, swiped a bread roll from 47’s tray, and then hurried back to his seat. 47 clearly saw them, nothing got past that boy’s observation, but he did nothing. He just sat back and watched when they approached, making no effort to stop them from taking his dinner.
Taking someone else's food was unheard of, and 6 had no idea what Father would do if he found out about this. Would they be harshly punished? Or would Father allow it as another way for them to compete over strength and skill?
But what surprised 6 the most was that 47 did nothing. He was stronger, faster, and more skilled than all of them. Why didn't he fight back?
This went on for weeks. Almost every meal, at least one of the boys would sneak over and steal some of 47’s food. And it wasn't just enough to make the portions fair, some days they would take almost all of his food. 47 would try to eat faster and as much as he could, but he rarely had a meal all to himself.
6 wasn't stupid, he knew this was his brothers’ way of punishing 47 for being the “perfect” subject. Taking back what they believed he didn't deserve. Yet, it was infuriating how 47 wouldn't defend himself. It was almost like he was scared of causing any trouble.
6 couldn't explain why this made him upset, but for some reason, he hated watching them treat 47 this way. Each time he watched them snag some of his food, he'd grit his teeth and grip his silverware tighter. A silent rage brewing inside him.
And one day it overflowed.
It was during lunchtime. Like normal, all the boys were gathered in the mess hall, eating a hearty vegetable stew. After receiving his portion of stew, 6 took his tray and sat right beside 47. The two boys didn't speak or even make eye contact, they just ate. And then it happened.
Subject 24 sat across from them, someone who had routinely stolen from 47 before. He was hurriedly scarfing down his bowl of soup even though he was one of the boys who was usually given larger portions. But when the guards weren't looking, 24 reached over and grabbed 47’s bowl. He then poured the rest of 47’s meal into his bowl, leaving him with nothing. 47 sat completely still, staring down at the now-empty dish in front of him. His fists were balled up on his lap but he still did nothing, he just hungrily looked at his tray.
This made 6 shake with rage. 24 was shameless in his stealing, hardly even looking at 47 as he began to inhale the stew.
6 finally snapped.
“Hungry?” He asked coldly.
24 looked up from his bowl and set down his spoon, his eyes narrow, “Stay out of it, 6,” he snarled, “you should’ve taken from the favorite when you had the chance. It's not like it’s that hard”
“No, it's not that,” he replied snidely, “I was just wondering if you wanted more food.”
He gave 6 a slightly confused expression, but 6 gave a wry smile. He couldn't stop himself.
“Because you're welcome to have my tray.”
In the blink of an eye, 6 grabbed his tray and slammed it into 24’s face with full force. His better judgment was pushed aside as the metal collided with the boy’s skull with a loud clang!
24 fell from his seat, stumbling back and covering his face. His nose started to bleed profusely and he cried out in pain and anger.
6 stood frozen for a moment, the tray still in his hands, and his bowl that had still been half full had clattered on the floor.
Everyone was looking at them.
24’s bruised and bloody face stared daggers at him, he started breathing heavily, snarling with rage.
The violent action stirred something inside of him. For the first time, he wasn't just complying with what Father wanted, he had done something satisfying.
But before 6 could relish in his action, 24 struck back. In an almost animalistic fury, 24 leapt across the table and tackled 6. He was forced to the ground, feeling a rush of pain shoot up his back as it hit the hard floor. He felt the weight of 24 press into his chest, pushing the air from his lungs and making him gasp.
As 6 instinctively tried to shove 24 off of him, he realized how much stronger 24 was. He should've known, he'd seen 24 during combat training, and he knew he was a brute. The blows started to land on his face, each strike a reminder of how stupid he was.
6 managed to land a few hits back, but was still trapped, unable to move. Each blow to his face made him want to scream in pain. His own nose and mouth started to bleed.
24’s hands suddenly clamped around 6’s neck. 6 had hardly been able to breathe before, but a surge of panic rushed through him as 24 squeezed his throat.
He couldn't breathe at all, his hands desperately pulled at 24’s arms but it did nothing. His lungs screamed for relief and his vision started to blur. The color was draining from the world, he couldn't hear, he couldn't feel, and his consciousness was starting to fall away.
But just as he was about to give in, the weight on his chest was lifted. 24’s hands unclasped around his throat as he was forced off. 6 gasped with relief, taking as deep of breaths as he could as he sat up, relishing in the air filling his lungs. When he came to and his hearing focused again, he saw the crowd of boys around them, excited murmurs and gasps erupting through them. But then 6 locked eyes onto his savior.
It was 47. 47 had kicked 24 to the ground and was standing over him. 24, was stunned for a moment, everyone was. No one had ever seen little 47 show any sort of hostility before.
24 pushed passed his surprise quickly, 6 could only watch as he attempted to lunge at 47. But 47 was faster, his small frame easily dodging 24’s attempted punch. He grabbed his arm at twisted it sharply before holding it to his back. With a sharp kick to the back of 24’s knee, he lost his balance and 47 pinned him to the ground.
24 desperately struggled against 47’s strong hold. 6 stumbled to his feet and staggered forward, he didn't know what to do, but 47 seemed to have it covered.
That was until two other boys who had also routinely stolen from 47 came up behind him and grabbed his arms, pulling him away. 47 managed to break free of their hold, but they swiftly attacked. Without hesitation, 6 jumped forward. He struck the two with hard punches, determined to protect 47. But then even more boys tried to stop them, pushing through the crowd which only caused everyone to get even more riled up.
The next thing they knew, it was a complete riot.
The mess hall was filled with sounds of shouts and trays clattering to the floor, food and punches flew through the air. Most of the boys didn't know what side they were on, just releasing the pent-up anger inside them. Others had malicious intent, wanting the chance to kill the “favorite child.” At the center of the brawl were 6 and 47. They were practically fighting for their lives now.
Just as the battle threatened to overwhelm them, a deafening bang burst through the mess hall, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
“Enough!” Shouted a familiar voice and everyone fell silent.
Father stepped in, surveying the mess. All of the boys froze, standing up straight and bowing their heads.
“Who is responsible for this?!” Father shouted.
6 stood still, his eyes focused on the floor. His body was screaming with pain and exhaustion, but the worst pain was his heart beating out of his chest. This was his fault, he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. What was his father going to do when he found out? 6 had never been seriously punished before. What was going to happen to him?
But even though he kept quiet, he knew it was inevitable, someone was going to rat him out. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, waiting to hear it.
“It was me.”
A small but stern voice cut through the silence. 6 looked up in surprise to see 47 raising his hand.
“You, 47?” Father approached him, his frame towering over the boy.
“Yes, Father,” 47 continued, his head lowered respectfully, “I was…angry.”
The entire room held its breath. No one dared speak. They all knew it was a lie, but they were too scared of Father, too scared of what would happen to them if they spoke up.
6 nearly corrected 47, but realized with a heavy heart that if revealed that he had lied, 47 could face a worse punishment.
Father searched 47’s face for signs of lying but found none, his emotionless expression betraying nothing.
“I am very disappointed, my son. I expected better from you.”
47 only nodded.
“This will not go unpunished,” he turned to the guards nearby, “Take him away.”
6 watched helplessly as the guards grabbed 47 by the arms and dragged him away, preparing to punish him for a deed he didn't do.
The rest of the boys were gathered up and ordered to clean the mess hall before being sent to the rest of their daily training.
As he scrubbed the remnants of stew from the floor, 6’s mind was clouded. There was still a lingering anger towards his brothers, but his mind always turned back to 47.
What were they doing to him? Why had 47 taken the blame for starting the fight? Was 47 really that stupid to believe that he had been to blame?
Or had it been something else? Had he purposely lied to protect 6?
6 shook his head, the idea of that notion said more than he could understand. In this life, you don't look out for others. You just kept your head down and complied enough to get by. 6 hadn't started the fight to protect 47, just to give a selfish thief what was coming to him. There was nothing protective about it.
Right?
The rest of the day passed in a haze. 6 moved slowly, trying to be as efficient as he normally was, but he felt different now. There was an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, an unfamiliar feeling.
6 only snapped out of his heavy thoughts during dinner later that evening, when he noticed that 47 wasn't in the mess hall.
6’s concern grew even more once the boys were sent to bed, 47 still hadn't rejoined them. As 6 settled into his bunk, he looked at the empty bed beside his, 47’s bed. The bed had been stripped clean, the comfy pillow and blanket taken away.
6 lay awake for nearly an hour, hardly attempting to sleep. 47 wasn't back. Where were they keeping him?
A horrible thought gripped his mind. Was 47 coming back at all?
Before 6 could dwell on the thought any longer, the door creaked open. A guard shoved 47 inside and slammed the door behind him.
6 glanced over, 47 was covered in cuts and bruises, and looked more exhausted than he had ever seen him. 47 shuffled weakly through the room, hungry and lethargic. But he didn't go to his bed. Without a glance at 6, he stumbled past him and crawled into the space between the bed and the wall.
6 sat up and looked over the side. He saw the “perfect subject” curled up, so small, scared, and cold. 6 could only wonder what he had been through, but knew better than to ask.
Without a second thought, 6 took his own pillow and blanket and dropped them over the side. 47 lifted his head as he took the warm items and held them close. Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. 47 leaned back against the wall, propping his head up with the pillow and bundling himself in the blanket. 6 gave a small smile as he watched his little brother nestle into that safe place.
Maybe there was more to their life than just survival. Maybe there was room for someone to look out for you, and someone to protect in turn.
47 had saved 6, the first kind thing any of this “family” had done for him. 6 only hoped he could return the gesture.
The brothers finally settled in for the night, 6 hardly noticed the cold that bit at him. The aches and pains were still there, and it felt like they always would be, but they finally had the chance to rest for a moment, no longer alone.
And just for a moment, everything was peaceful.