As a reminder, the guards only know the prisoners by number and refer to them that way throughout the study. It can get confusing at times, so here’s the line-up of prisoners, guards, and the prisoners’ numbers for your reference.

The Line-Up

Nick - Prisoner 137 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Jeff - Prisoner 138 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Kurt - Prisoner 219 - Guarded by Blaine Anderson

Puck - Prisoner 378 - Guarded by David Karofsky

Sam - Prisoner 474 - Guarded by David Karofsky

Conformity: The tendency for people to adopt the behaviors, attitudes, and values of other members of a reference group.

“Look, I’m sure you are a perfectly nice and decent guy in real life, but I just can’t… When you are nice to me, it’s so much harder to…” Prisoner 219 trailed off, swallowing hard against the growing lump in his throat.

Officer Anderson was silent for so long, Kurt was sure he wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally asked, “Harder to what?”

Kurt sighed heavily. “Harder to be Prisoner 219. Harder to not be me.”

Anderson let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a dark laugh and sob. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get that.”

Kurt was jolted awake by a sharp bleat that was sounding over and over again. In his half-conscious state, his first thought was that Rachel had managed to set off the fire alarm with her horrible cooking yet again. But as he rolled over, shivering as he pulled up the thin scratchy wool blanket that did little to block out the dank chill of his current environment, the events of the previous day came rushing back to him. Almost immediately, any residual sleepiness was gone as Kurt sat up in bed and got quickly to his feet, wincing at the indentation the heavy chain had made in his right ankle as he slept, his whole foot stinging with pins and needles as it slowly woke up. Kurt blinked rapidly as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, confirming that he was still in his prison cell alone. But across the hall, he could hear the other correctional officers shouting and shaking their prisoners awake, blowing whistles and shouting numbers and curse words in an endless stream. Bleary eyed and disoriented much like Kurt, the prisoners slowly woke and rose to their feet, following the correctional officers out into the hallway where they had done their first line up the night before.

Kurt heard one of the correctional officers call his number, 219. Karofsky? Smythe? He couldn’t be sure, but he knew immediately that the harsh bark did not belong to Anderson. All he knew was that when he didn’t answer immediately, the yelling shifted to Correctional Officer Anderson. Seconds later, Anderson was at the door of Kurt’s cell, swiftly unlocking it, all the while muttering apologies under his breath.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Blaine started awkwardly, half asleep himself and surprised to see Prisoner 219 standing at attention.

“I don’t think anyone could sleep through that racket,” Kurt replied mildly, looking on in amusement as Correctional Officer Anderson quickly tucked the slightly too big khaki shirt into his uniform pants before attempting to smooth down his obvious bed head, the curls springing back into disarray the second his hands left his hair.

“Yeah sorry, it’s really late. Or early I guess. Depending on your perspective,” Correctional Officer Anderson replied, failing to stifle a yawn.

“What time is it?” Kurt asked curiously.

Blaine’s face blanched white at the question. “Umm, I’m not supposed to tell you. That’s why there aren’t any clocks or windows in here.” He looked at Prisoner 219 apologetically, seeming as if he wanted to say more before he glanced back at the other correctional officers and prisoners assembled in the hall.

“Anderson, get a fucking move on. Cuff him and get him out here,” Correctional Officer Karofsky shouted impatiently, tossing a pair of metal handcuffs that Anderson barely caught.

“Sorry,” Anderson said again, as he stepped between Kurt and the bed, reaching for him wrists. “Just have to do this for one second,” he continued, narrating his movements. “House rules and all.” He carefully fingered the red welts that ringed Kurt’s wrists from where the handcuffs had cut into his skin the day before. “Ouch,” he whispered, wincing slightly as his fingers lightly grazed the reddened skin. “Who put them on that tight? I’ll be sure they’re a lot looser this time, okay?”

Kurt stood rigid and silent, falling back into his role as a sullen prisoner. It had felt like only hours ago that he’d asked, more like begged actually, for Anderson to stop being nice to him. And yet here was Correctional Officer Anderson, apologizing for waking him and gently cradling his wrists in his hands. But as Kurt was forcing himself to remember, those were also the same hands that had strip searched him the night before and were about to handcuff him and lead him into god knows what kind of melee. It was confusing and disorienting. For a moment, Kurt found himself wishing for a different guard whose cruelty was routine and predictable. This whole thing would be easier if he could simply hate his guard, but Kurt was quickly learning that Anderson made it difficult for anyone to hate him.

Blaine gently latched one of the handcuffs around Prisoner 219’s wrist, making sure to leave it on the widest setting to prevent further chafing of what looked to be very sore wrists. He took Prisoner 219’s right hand in his in order to place the second cuff, wincing at the feel of Prisoner 219’s ice cold hand. “Geez, your hands are freezing,” he remarked. “Are you cold?”

Kurt weighed Anderson’s question carefully in his mind before responding. The truth was that he was incredibly, bone-chillingly cold. The thin smock uniform didn’t help nor did his bare feet on the concrete floors. But as a guard, wasn’t Anderson at least partially to blame for his discomfort? Plus, Kurt was trying to do everything he could to discourage Anderson from wanting to protect or take care of him because he didn’t need or want that. The truth was that Kurt thrived on being self-sufficient. It was part of the reason he’d chosen to take this job instead of asking his dad for the money or working his garage. And while Kurt had been assigned to be a prisoner in this stupid study, he absolutely refused to be the victim. It was something with which he’d had much too much experience in high school thanks to years of bullying. More importantly, it was a part of himself that Kurt was absolutely determined to keep in the past.

“A bit but isn’t that the point of these lovely prisoner uniforms? To make us miserable?” Prisoner 219 spit back after a moment’s pause, his words coming out slightly harsher than he’d intended.

“I wouldn’t know. This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, you know,” Correctional Officer Anderson responded, his voice soft, but obviously wounded. He silently clicked the second handcuff into place but couldn’t help but linger for a moment with his hand over Prisoner 219’s, trying to rub a little warmth into his icy hands. He was trying not to take Prisoner 219’s sudden shifts in mood personally, but it was hard. Blaine knew that a lot was being asked of Prisoner 219. In less than 24 hours, he’d been stripped, deloused, insulted, and threatened. Several of those things had been at Blaine’s hands, no less. And while Blaine wanted Prisoner 219 to feel safe, he wasn’t sure that was something he could promise him. All he knew was that he would try to do whatever he could, within reason, to keep the worst of what Karofsky and Sebastian had to offer away from Prisoner 219. But first, Prisoner 219 needed to trust him. He needed to know that Blaine truly was on his side and didn’t want to hurt him. However, seeing how quickly Prisoner 219 had shut down the night before, Blaine had a feeling that wasn’t going to be an easy task.

“About fucking time,” Karofsky spat out as Blaine and Prisoner 219 emerged from his cell to join the other prisoners. “Uncuff him and get him in line. Time for the count off.”

Blaine quickly undid Prisoner 219’s cuffs, giving his prisoner’s hand what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze as he released him. Prisoner 219 pretended not to notice and wordlessly took a spot against the wall next to the scowling mohawked prisoner.

Karofsky had obviously been raring to go for minutes and Blaine watched uneasily as Dave’s eyes narrowed and gleamed darkly as Prisoner 219 made his way to the end of the line. “Lady, didn’t they teach you to count at whatever homo school you went to?” Karofsky mocked cruelly.

Blaine watched in horror as Prisoner 219 slouched against the cinderblock wall, taking his time in acknowledging Karofsky which only served to infuriate him more. Finally, Prisoner 219 made direct eye contact with Karofsky, holding his gaze defiantly for several seconds before speaking. “Sorry, were you talking to me?” he asked disinterestedly.

“Of course I’m talking to you, you fucking fag. Do you see any other ladies here?” Karofsky shouted back, his face turning nearly purple with rage as he stepped towards Prisoner 219 menacingly.

Blaine’s stomach dropped at that word again. Fag. Prisoner 219’s face remained impassive, but just as he had the night before, Blaine noticed how Prisoner 219 recoiled slightly at that word. It was clear that the word had some personal significance for Prisoner 219. Without thinking, Blaine took a step forward, wanting to put himself between Karofsky and Prisoner 219 before the situation could escalate further.

Sebastian, who had been watching the whole situation unfold with detached amusement, saw Blaine step forward as if to insert himself into the middle of the confrontation. “Bad idea, love,” he scolded, placing a restraining hand on Blaine’s elbow. “He’s a big boy, let him handle it.”

Blaine shrugged off Sebastian’s hand, but by the time he’d pulled away from Sebastian’s grasp, Prisoner 219 was speaking to Karofsky again, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I don’t see any ladies here, actually. Just a bunch of boys playing dress up, yourself included. And I guarantee that the meathead academy for lumbering jocks that you attended wasn’t exactly the height of scholastic achievement either. But it’s much too early to be arguing semantics, especially when I haven’t had my coffee yet, so why don’t you just tell me what it is you want me to do and we can all get this show on the road,” Kurt responded with as much snark as he could manage given the early hour and his creeping exhaustion. God, that felt good. It felt like such a relief to stand up for himself. And while he was sure that his lines would have carried more heft had he been wearing his leather prisoner costume, Kurt couldn’t help but feel as if he’d nailed the part of rebellious prisoner nonetheless.

Kurt watched as Karofsky stalked over to stand directly in front of him, his eyes dark with fury. He drew up to his full height, his hands balled up into tight fists, looking ready to strike at any second. But Kurt refused to be intimidated, forcing himself to breathe deeply and evenly as he stood his ground, meeting Karofsky’s glare with a steady gaze.

Blaine felt his mouth drop open in shock as Prisoner 219 verbally dressed down Karofsky, barely blinking at the rage that was pouring off Karofsky in waves. His stomach sank as he watched Karofsky move until he was but inches away from Prisoner 219, towering over him threateningly, looking ready to lash out at any moment. Oh god, he’s really going to hit Prisoner 219, isn’t he? Shit, shit, shit! Blaine glanced towards the surveillance camera pleadingly, hoping Dr. Cohen would intervene as promised to keep Karofsky from breaking the rules. But Blaine was dumbfounded when it was Sebastian who approached Karofsky instead, carrying on a hushed conference and gesturing towards Prisoner 219 and then the other prisoners in turn. Blaine held his breath, hoping and praying that Sebastian’s words weren’t meant to add more fuel to the fire.

Blaine was beyond relieved to see Karofsky nod reluctantly after a brief exchange with Sebastian, taking a step backwards and dropping his fists to his side while still continuing to glower at Prisoner 219. Sebastian smirked at Prisoner 219, his expression cruel and mocking. “So princess, as I was just reminding my good friend here, as much as a black eye and broken nose would be a vast improvement over your current look, he really shouldn’t bother beating you up when there are so many better ways to make you suffer. And not just you, your highness, but everyone. Let this be a lesson to all of you ladies. If one of you fucks up, all of you will pay for it. So you better get your fellow prisoners in line. And since your darling little princess here couldn’t be bothered to follow a few simple directions, it looks like everyone needs a refresher course. Drop and give me fifty push-ups. All of you. I want to hear you count off your numbers too. If one of you forgets to call your number on count or gives me a sissy push-up, the count will start all over again. For everyone. Got it?”

Prisoner 474 was the first to respond to the new directions, wanting to do whatever he could to get through this horrendous experience as quickly and as painlessly as possible. So he called out “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Smythe,” shooting a pleading look to Prisoners 137 and 138 who quickly echoed what he said. Slowly, the remaining prisoners all dropped to the floor and began doing pushups.

“That’s more like it, fairies,” Karofsky shouted, regaining his composure as he began to pace back and forth in front of the grunting, sweating prisoners. “Now let’s see if you idiots can get this right for once. Count off,” he spit, turning to Sebastian.

“Prisoner 137?” Sebastian shouted, standing over his small, dark haired prisoner who was dripping sweat as he forced his body up and down in quick succession, stealing a glance at the petite bleached blond prisoner to his left every so often, ensuring that he was keeping pace with the other prisoners. “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Smythe,” Prisoner 137 called out breathlessly.

“Prisoner 138?” Sebastian called, obviously leering as he watched his prisoners bob up and down, the short cotton smocks leaving little to the imagination. “Yes sir….uh…Officer Smythe,” Prisoner 138 gasped between push-ups, his arms already shaking as he struggled to keep up with the other prisoners.

“Not quite, love. That’s Correctional Officer Smythe to you. Thank god you’re pretty or I don’t know what I’d do with you. But you just keep doing exactly what you are doing and I think we’ll get along brilliantly,” Sebastian purred, obviously ogling Prisoner 138’s legs and ass as his smock rode up.

Prisoner 138 blushed from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, trying to pull his smock down with one hand between pushups. He shot Prisoner 137 a pleading look, unsure how to respond to Correctional Officer Smythe’s increasingly predatory advances without getting himself or all of the prisoners in more trouble. Prisoner 138 shook his head slowly, discouraging his cellmate from responding to Correctional Officer Smythe at all, as his previous protestations had only seemed to encourage his bad behavior. Sorry, he mouthed helplessly. It’ll be okay.

A less than subtle nudge to the ribs awakened Blaine from his horrified stupor. He glanced down at Prisoner 219 to see that he was beginning to show signs of fatigue like the other prisoners from the seemingly endless sequence of push-ups. But unlike the other prisoners, it was clear that Prisoner 219 was unwilling to let the guards see him sweat, literally or figuratively, forcing his breaths to come out slow and regular despite his obvious exertion while carefully arranging his expression into one of casual indifference. Blaine felt an irrational surge of pride at his prisoner’s behavior. Prisoner 219 was obviously stronger than anyone was giving him credit for, Blaine included. And while a large part of Blaine hoped that Prisoner 219 would passively follow his orders without protest like Prisoner 474, there was another part of him who wanted Prisoner 219 to continue to rebel against Karofsky and Sebastian’s humiliating and sadistic orders. He just didn’t want Prisoner 219 to get hurt in the process.

“Oh sorry, umm Prisoner 219?” Blaine called awkwardly, looking apologetic.

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson,” Prisoner 219 replied with the same slightly mocking, irritated tone he’d used earlier in response to the other guards. He couldn’t help but notice that Anderson looked slightly affronted at his reply, correctly sensing that he was being treated like the other two guards. Because that’s what he was to Kurt. He wasn’t Kurt’s friend or protector. He was a guard, no different than the others. And Kurt needed to keep that distinction clear in his mind if he was going to make it through the next two weeks.

Blaine tried to keep his face impassive as he turned to Karofsky, waiting for him to continue the count. But the truth was that Prisoner 219’s annoyance had wounded him slightly. He understood why Prisoner 219 was keeping him at arm’s length, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t still bother him.  

“Prisoner 378?” Karofsky barked out, his eyes roaming over his prisoners, looking for any small mistake that he could jump on. Prisoner 378 was completing the push-ups easily, seeming less fatigued by the exercises. Still, he paused for a second, obviously mulling something over in his mind before choking out “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Karofsky,” between gritted teeth.  

“Prisoner 474?” Karofsky continued. “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Karofsky,” Prisoner 474 answered immediately, his voice flat but cooperative as he continued to complete push-ups on shaking arms.  

“About fucking time you little girls got it right,” Karofsky spat out angrily. “That was the most pathetic display of strength I’ve ever seen. Fuck, I think kittens could probably do better push-ups than you. No wonder you’re all wearing dresses. Clearly none of you have any balls.” 

Prisoner 378 was the first to drop from his push up position. “Fuck this bullshit,” he shouted angrily, climbing to his feet. He turned to Prisoner 219, extending a hand to help pull him to his feet. “Seriously all of you, just stop. I’ve done all the playing nice I can take for one day. Let’s go back to bed.” 

Prisoner 137 and 138 exchanged a glance. Once Prisoner 137 saw how bad Prisoner 138’s arms were shaking, he shrugged his shoulders and dropped to a sitting position, smiling encouragingly as Prisoner 138 collapsed exhaustedly in a heap on the floor. 

“And who the fuck said any of you were done? Remember you don’t do anything without a direct order from a guard first, got it?” Karofsky shouted, standing nearly nose to nose with Prisoner 378.  

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, when I want to, asshole,” Prisoner 378 spat, refusing to back down. “And if you’ve got a problem with that, I’d like to see you make me stop. Come on, chubs. Show me how you are going to stop me.”

Next to Prisoner 378, Kurt watched, wide-eyed. He wasn’t sure if he was horrified or impressed. All he knew was that Correctional Officer Karofsky was enraged. Kurt watched silently as Karofsky strode in front of Prisoner 378, moving steadily forward until his face was mere inches from Prisoner 378’s. Kurt couldn’t help but think that if this were a bad porn movie, this would be the moment that Karofsky and his prisoner would kiss out of nowhere. To be honest, between the tacky uniforms, handcuffs, and shower situation, this whole study felt a little like something out of B-movie porn. And maybe that was Dr. Cohen’s plan along, Kurt thought with a snicker. He did say something about filming everything, after all.

Before Kurt had time to flinch or react, suddenly Karofsky’s fist slammed into the wall, mere inches from Kurt’s head. Across the room, Anderson jumped, immediately rushing to where Karofsky had Prisoners 219 and 378 pinned against the wall. Officer Smythe rolled his eyes before following after Anderson reluctantly.

“I don’t know what you think is so funny, fag, but I do know that if there is one more peep out of you…” Karofsky spit, his eyes dark with rage. He turned to address Prisoner 378 who had put a protective arm on Prisoner 219’s shoulder, angling his body so that he was placed between Karofsky and Prisoner 219. “If there is one more word out of either of you, I will wipe those fucking smirks off your face so hard that you’ll be eating through a straw for the next six months.”

“You leave my boy out of this,” Prisoner 378 protested. “This is between you and me, Fatty. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

Officer Karofsky’s face flushed crimson at the insult and without thinking, he raised his arm as if to strike the insolent Prisoner 378. But fortunately for the assembled prisoners, Officers Anderson and Smythe had reached Karofsky by this point. Blaine reached for Karofsky’s arm, restraining him while Sebastian stepped forward, holding his hands in front of him signaling Karofsky to calm down. Karofsky shrugged off Anderson’s hand angrily, glaring at Smythe with disgust. “What?” he spat in frustration. “What else do you expect me to do?”

“I get it, I get it,” Sebastian soothed. “But what? You get one good punch in and then Dr. Cohen’s in here and both of you are out of the study. Is it really worth it? Remember what I said earlier. There are much better ways to make them pay. We’re barely warming up. Just throw his ass in the hole and let’s hold a quick conference. Trust me; I have tons of ideas about how we can torture them.”

Blaine shivered at the hint of menace in Sebastian’s voice and the gleam in his eyes. He did not like the sound of that or what it implied was to come.

Karofsky was still furious when the guards sat down to strategize over breakfast half an hour later. It probably didn’t help that Prisoner 378 had continued with a steady stream of profanity and insults as Karofsky and Sebastian manhandled him into the dark closet currently standing in for solitary confinement that Karofsky had inexplicably insisted that they call “The Hole.”

“Okay, so what’s your grand plan, Sebastian?” Karofsky asked. “We’ve got to get these prisoners in shape. They’re trying to take advantage of us. We need to show them who’s boss here and now or the next two weeks are going to be a disaster. I think we should start by shaving the stupid fucking rat tail off Prisoner 378’s head. Let’s see how tough he is without his precious mohawk.”

“Uh guys, I’m pretty sure we can’t do that. Wouldn’t that fall under the category of physical punishment? Besides, I didn’t think the prisoners were that bad. They did their count and they all did about a million push-ups when you told them to, Karofsky. Besides, it’s only the first day. Give them some time to settle in,” Blaine protested mildly, picking at the toast and scrambled eggs on his plate and avoiding eye contact with the other guards.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Karofsky practically shouted at Blaine. “Oh sure, let’s just give them some time to settle in,” he continued in a mocking tone. “Like I said before, Anderson, this isn’t a day spa. It’s a prison.” He turned to Sebastian, throwing up his hands in frustration. “Can you talk some sense into him please?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Yes love, you are being a little blinded by your obsession with Prisoner 219. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You are letting him get away with absolute murder too. He totally sees through you and he’s taking advantage of the situation. And I hate to be the one to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but I’m pretty sure he’s not interested either. Time to move on, I think. I’d be happy to share my prisoners with you. The blonde’s all mine, but I’ll let you have to brunette if you want to play.”

Blaine’s jaw dropped in shock, his face flushing slightly as Sebastian brought up his “obsession” with Prisoner 219. He took a deep breath before letting loose with a tirade of frustrations. “Okay dude, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I’m not interested in it. Any of it. And yeah, I’m treating Prisoner 219 like a human being, because news flash…he is. All the prisoners are. I think you’re forgetting that they volunteered for the study, just like us. We could have been assigned to be prisoners just as easily as we were to be guards. It’s a fucking study, for Christ’s sake.”

“Fine honey, you want to play it that way? Let’s play it that way then,” Sebastian stated firmly, all traces of previous flirtation and amusement gone from his eyes. “Here’s the deal. Majority rules. Just like before. And Karofsky and I are saying that you’ve been slacking on the guard duty. We may not be able to hit the prisoners but there are plenty of creative ways that we can keep order. And we expect you to back us up and share the workload, unless you want us telling Dr. Cohen that you haven’t been following the rules and that he should kick you out, got it?”

Blaine swallowed hard. He wanted so badly to stand up for himself and for the prisoners. But the reality of the situation was that Blaine would lose both his temporary home and any chance at being able to find a new one. He was stuck. So instead he found himself rationalizing what he was being asked to do for probably the hundredth time since the study began. It’s just a study. I’m only doing what’s asked of me. I’m not going to really hurt anyone. Besides, they volunteered for this, just like me. With a sigh, Blaine looked to Sebastian and nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, got it.”

“Good,” Sebastian replied with a satisfied nod. “Sorry to get so tough on you, darling. Like I told you before, I prefer being on top. But I don’t mind a bit of spanking now and then if someone’s been really, really naughty,” he finished, the flirtatious lilt now restored to his voice as he gave Blaine a knowing grin.

“Great, I’ll file that under things I absolutely, positively do NOT need to know,” Blaine muttered under his breath, his patience gone.

“Agreed,” said Karofsky gruffly. “Let’s get back to the issue at hand. How are we going to punish the prisoners from now on? What are we going to do to keep them in line?”

Sebastian smiled knowingly. “I’ve got lots of ideas, but why don’t we let the new and improved Officer Anderson go first. Blaine, show us that you’re with us on this. What can we do to get the prisoners in line?”

“Uhh…I don’t….I really don’t think I’m the best person to….” he stuttered, looking back to Sebastian. But Sebastian just grinned patiently, clearly waiting for Blaine to say something. “Okay…I…uhh…I guess we could make them do more push-ups like before. That seemed to work. It’s harder for them to act out if they are tired, I guess. Right?” He looked to Sebastian expectantly, hoping that would be enough.

“Mhhm, but that’s not exactly a new idea, babe. What else?” Sebastian prompted.

“Well…more stuff like that, I guess. Sit ups? Running laps or something? Physical labor? We can make them clean stuff too. Their bunks. The dining room. That kind of thing?” Blaine rambled.

Karofsky nodded seriously, clearly mulling the various punishments over. “That’s a start, but it’s not good enough. We need something more if we’re going to keep guys like Prisoner 378 in line for two weeks. Sebastian, I want to hear your brilliant plan now.”

Sebastian lips curled into a slightly demented looking grin. “Well, haven’t your parents or teachers always told you ‘words can hurt just as much as fists’? That’s the plan. We find out what each of them is most insecure about and then we exploit those weaknesses. Everyone’s got a secret or a trigger. It’s all about finding the right buttons to push. That’s step one. Each of us should spend the rest of the day listening in on our prisoners. Find out who they are. More importantly, find out what they don’t want us to know. Find their weaknesses. That’s step one.”

Blaine’s mouth was open wide with shock. He was almost afraid to ask, but he was hoping that the things he was currently imagining were worse than the reality. “What’s step two?” he asked haltingly.

“Step two is to use what we know to humiliate them publically. Embarrass them. Make them wish they were never born. Make sure that they know if they step out of line once, we will make them pay. We own them. It’s that simple.”

Blaine turned to Karofsky, irrationally hoping that he wouldn’t take the bait. But his hopes were dashed when he saw Karofsky eating up Sebastian’s words, nodding in eager agreement. He was trying to find the best way to object to Sebastian’s plan without getting himself kicked out of the study by Sebastian and Dave when Sebastian spoke up again.

“Oh and Blaine?” Sebastian called casually. “It’s your turn to show us that you can be a good guard. We need to know that you’ve got our backs and can handle the prisoners. That means you’re going to be in charge of the next count. Prove to us you’re on our side. And until then, we all know what we should be doing. Eavesdrop on your prisoners and figure out their weaknesses. Then tonight, we make them pay.”

Sebastian’s transformation to full blown sociopath complete, Blaine couldn’t help but think that Sebastian might as well have been laughing maniacally and stroking a cat. Blaine shivered although it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Fuck, what am I going to do?

“You going to finish that?” Puck asked, eyeing Kurt’s picked over scrambled eggs and remaining slice of limp bacon.

“Ugh…no” Kurt replied, pushing away his plate with disgust. “Have at it.”

“Thanks,” Puck said, digging in hungrily. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not for food like this. Runny scrambled eggs and greasy bacon aren’t really my thing,” Kurt replied.

“I don’t think the food’s all that bad,” Sam chimed in. Puck and Kurt both turned to face him, surprised that the previously silent prisoner was finally speaking to them.

“Really?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, I mean it’s not the best thing I’ve ever eaten, but it’s decent. And more importantly, it’s free, you know?” Sam said evenly.

“I guess so… To be honest, I’m more than a little worried about what the guards might have done to the food before it made it to the plate. I wouldn’t put anything past Karofsky or Smythe,” Kurt spoke, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

“Aww dude, come on!” Puck moaned, dropping his fork to the table with a clatter as he slid Prisoner 219’s plate away from him. “You could’ve at least waited until I finished eating to tell me the guards messed with the food.”

“I don’t have any proof…I’m just saying. Besides, I took you as someone who would expect the worst from the guards anyways. Speaking of which, what was up with the random rebellion earlier? Yelling at Karofsky just made him go harder on you…on all of us really, didn’t it?” Kurt questioned, curious.

“Yeah, I agree, dude,” Sam piped up. “Why are you trying to make things harder on us? Can’t you just roll your eyes and do the bullshit they ask? The way I see it, as long as they aren’t doing anything to actually hurt me, I’m just going to grit my teeth and try to get through it as quickly and painlessly as possible. It’s worth it for the room and the board plus the money, you know?”

“Look, you guys are naïve if you think we can just put up and shut up and everything will just be fine and dandy. Unlike you, I actually have experience on the inside.” Puck suddenly looked around worriedly, before leaning in and speaking in a softer voice. “Umm yeah, keep that on the down low because I didn’t exactly mention it on my application. But the point is, I’ve been to juvie and it only gets worse from here. If they think you’re going to just roll over and take it, things will get out of hand even faster. We’ve got to stand up for ourselves and show them who’s really boss.”

Kurt shook his head, leaning forward, impassioned. “No, that’s the thing. It’s easy to get caught up in all this bullshit, but it’s not real. We’re all being paid to act out a part, essentially.”

Puck studied Kurt carefully for a few seconds before breaking into a wide grin, shaking his head as he spoke. “I like you, kid. You’re totally wrong, you know, but I can tell you’re a fighter. Even if you do look like a girl. Just stick with me and I’ll show the ropes okay? Trust me; none of those meatheads are going to lay a hand on either of us as long as I’m here.”

“Line up! C’mon, everyone in line….now,” Blaine shouted awkwardly, already feeling ridiculous at his halfhearted attempts to corral the prisoners. But he knew he was being watched closely by Sebastian and Dave, so he had to try. Blaine tried to imagine that he was simply playing a role, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves as he paced back and forth in front of the assembled prisoners.

“Alright, count off. Do it right or I’ll make you do it again,” he directed, trying to ignore the eye rolls he was getting from Prisoner 219 and the snickers he could hear coming from Prisoner 378. God, this is awkward.

“Right, so Prisoner 137?” Blaine called while continuing to pace back and forth in front of the line, forcing himself to stand up straight and make direct eye contact with the prisoners. Courage.

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson,” Prisoner 137 droned, stepping forward slightly. Blaine nodded, satisfied, while he internally sighed in relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Prisoner 138?”

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson,” Prisoner 138 replied robotically.

“Prisoner 219?” Blaine called next, his cheeks burning as he looked to the floor to avoid his prisoner’s piercing gaze.

Prisoner 219 paused for a half second, seeming to mull something over in his mind as he considered Blaine carefully. Finally, his halfhearted reply, “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson.”

“Umm okay,” Blaine mumbled. “S-ooo, Prisoner 378?”

Before Prisoner 378 had a chance to reply, Blaine felt a hand on his back. Sebastian.

“Yeah…no,” Sebastian scolded. “You’re going to have to try a little harder than that,Officer Anderson. Besides, 219 took too long on the count. You know what that means.”

Blaine scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking. There really is no getting around this, is there? With a deep breath, he replied, trying to make his words sound firm and harsh.

“Correctional Officer Smythe is right. You fucked up the count. And if one of you messes up, all of you have to…uhh…suffer. So drop and give me…hmm…20 push-ups?”

Karofsky let out an impatient scoff. “Are you kidding me, dude? Are you asking them or are you telling them, because from here I can’t. It’s time to get with the program, Anderson.”

“Fine. Drop and give me 20 push-ups. All of you. Now,” Blaine shouted mechanically, trying to dissociate himself as much as possible from what was going on.

After some grumbling and exchanging of glances, the prisoners slowly dropped to the floor, Prisoner 474 leading the charge as usual. Once they were all in position, Prisoner 474 began to count off each push-up for the group of prisoners.

Blaine watched, feel relieved and angry in equal measure. He hated himself for what he was doing. He’d been bullied himself, not a lot, but enough to know how it felt. And hadn’t his father been bullying his just days earlier when he as kicked Blaine out of the house for simply trying to share his true self with his family? Blaine couldn’t help but feel like a coward and a tremendous hypocrite, even if he was only forcing the prisoners to do push-ups.

“18 – 19 – 20,” Prisoner 474 gasped out, as he dropped back to the floor along with the rest of the prisoners. He looked to Blaine, expectant. Shit. Now what? Blaine had no idea.

“On your feet now,” Sebastian commanded, his voice hard.

Blaine felt his heart lift with relief. Oh thank god. Now Sebastian will take over. But Blaine’s relief was short-lived. Before he could react, Sebastian slid an arm around Blaine’s waist, tugging him close to his body before leaning down to whisper in Blaine’s ear.

“You’re not done yet, honey. Not by a long shot. We’re just warming up. Remember the plan from earlier? It’s time to insult and humiliate the prisoners and you get the honor of going first. Time to use what you learned about your prisoner to take him down a peg. And make it good. Karofsky and I are watching and you still haven’t done nearly enough to prove your loyalty.” Sebastian practically purred into Blaine’s ear, still managing to sound threatening despite the flirtatious tone.

Blaine stared at Prisoner 219, his mouth going dry and his mind blank. How could he insult someone that he’d already grown to like, respect even? What would Prisoner 219 think of him? He already seemed to resent Blaine, any trace of earlier camaraderie having disappeared in the last 24 hours. Blaine knew that he could pretty much forget about Prisoner 219 ever trusting him if he insulted and humiliated him in front of everyone. Prisoner 219 would never forgive him. And Blaine wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself either.

By the time Blaine had worked all of this out in his head, Karofsky and Sebastian had grown impatient, crowding around him and glaring. “We don’t have all day,” Karofsky growled, tapping his foot and gesturing towards Prisoner 219. “Get on with it. There’s so many things you can mock about him. This should be a piece of cake.”

Blaine looked to Prisoner 219, his eyes burning, pleading. He tried to say everything with a glance that he couldn’t say in words. I don’t want to do this. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it. Please don’t hate me. But Prisoner 219 met his gaze steadily, his eyes a mix of curious and hard. The momentary window he’d given Blaine to the real him, or what Blaine thought was the real him, was closed, and the eyes that met him were guarded and betrayed little hint of sympathy or emotion.

Blaine forced himself to study Prisoner 219, looking for any small thing he could use to insult him. Something innocuous. But what could he say? He looked Prisoner 219 up and down. The only thing that stood out was what he was wearing, what all the prisoners were wearing. It would have to do for now.

“Umm yeah, nice outfit, 219. Really suits you. Do you wear things like this all the time?” Blaine blurted out. He fought the urge to snicker, hearing how ridiculous his insults sounded even to his own ears. He forced himself to look back to Prisoner 219, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment. But Prisoner 219 continued to gaze back at him, his lips curling just the slightest bit as he quirked one eyebrow, as if to say “Really? Is the best you got?”

Blaine could sense Sebastian’s cold gaze from behind him. He knew he was failing, that he had to think fast or he’d be out of the study with nowhere to go. He thought of his father who had forced him into this situation. Blaine felt his anger rise as his father’s words from several nights earlier echoed in his ears. His father had always had plenty to say about Blaine, very little of it kind. But there was one sentence standing out to him. One insult that had been playing on a loop for the past few days.

“You’re worthless scum,” Blaine spat, more to himself than to the prisoner in front of him. And as quickly as the words escaped his lips, he wanted nothing more than to take them back. He looked up to Prisoner 219, seeing that his insults had hit their target. Prisoner 219 was struggling to keep his face impassive, but Blaine could see how he’d recoiled slightly and how he was working hard to hold himself together. And in that moment, Blaine just crumpled forward, hating himself more than ever. My dad was right, Blaine couldn’t help thinking. I am worthless scum. And I just hurt the one person who might have been my ally in this mess. Fuck.

Blaine was nearly knocked off his feet by a round of congratulatory slaps to his back. “That’s more like it, darling. I knew you had it in you. But now you can watch and learn from the master, because honey, we’re just getting warmed up.”

“Yeah dude, good job,” Karofsky continued. “Nice to know you’re on our side for a change.”

Blaine didn’t reply, still speechless by what had taken place. And while the self-loathing didn’t appear to be lessening, he also felt a wash of relief at the response he was receiving from Sebastian and Karofsky. He’d managed to pacify them which meant that his spot in the study was safe, at least for the time being. But he couldn’t shake the nagging voice in the back of his head. The one that kept saying: You’ve been a guard for less than 48 hours and you’ve already hurt someone you care about and swore to protect. What’s going to be asked or expected of you in a week’s time?

Blaine bit his lip and sought Prisoner 219’s eyes for a second time. There was a half second in which prisoner and guard saw each other for what they really were, before the walls were back up once more. In that moment, Blaine tried to communicate all the complicated emotions he was feeling, the strongest being guilt and self-loathing.Please. Please know that I didn’t mean what I said. Don’t hate me. God, I’m sorry. Can we…..can I….just? You’re not worthless. I am. And for that, I am so, so sorry.

As Blaine watched, Prisoner 219 took it all in. He swallowed hard, his eyes bright with something… Anger? Frustration? Unshed tears? Blaine couldn’t be sure. But then Prisoner 219 set his jaw, dropped his shoulders, standing up tall, and shook his head almost imperceptibly before staring through Blaine. Message received. As far as Prisoner 219 is concerned, I no longer exist. Can I really blame him though?

Blaine, momentarily lost in his guilt and anger over what he’d done to Prisoner 219, was pulled back to his present reality by Karofsky addressing him. “Come on, Anderson. Let’s call him what he is. He’s a fag. You’re like the Bride of Frankenstein, aren’t you fag? That’s right, 219. Come over here and be the Bride of Frankenstein.”

Blaine could only stare back at Karofsky in mute horror. What the fuck? Blaine was growing increasingly disturbed, because while his halfhearted attempts at insults and humiliation had managed to leave a mark, Sebastian and Karofsky’s attempts were barbed, pointed, and absolutely ruthless in the most horrific of ways.

Prisoner 219 cocked his head at Karofsky, looking momentarily every bit as confused as Blaine felt. The word fag still obviously stung, but Prisoner 219 seemed determined not to react to any of the insults.

Karofsky turned, his eyes falling on Prisoner 378. His eyes gleamed maniacally as his humiliation fantasy grew increasingly more elaborate. “378, put your hands in the air. Why don’t you play Frankenstein? 219, you’re still the Bride of Frankenstein. You stand here,” he continued shoving Prisoner 219 roughly into place.

Both Prisoner 219 and 378 continued to stare at him dumbly, confused about exactly what he wanted them to do. “God, fucking idiots! You should act it out. You be the Bride of Frankenstein,” Karofsky spoke slowly and condescendingly to Prisoner 219, as if he was too stupid to understand what was being said. Next, Karofsky whirled to face Prisoner 378, “You be Frankenstein. I want you to walk over here like Frankenstein and say that you love your bride, 219. Got it? Now move it.”

Prisoner 378’s face flamed red, then purple with undisguised frustration and rage. He opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a shake of Prisoner 219’s head. His eyes seemed to plead with 378 to humor the guards and go along with their latest ridiculous charade.

With a deep breath, Prisoner 378 forced himself forward towards Prisoner 219. He hadn’t taken two steps when Karofsky started yelling at him again. “I didn’t say walk like you, fucking idiot. Go back and do it again.”

Prisoner 378 reluctantly raised his arms over his head, walking stiffly towards 219, mumbling “I love you, 219,” robotically under his breath.

“You’re smiling, 219!” Karofsky yelled, still enraged and drunk on his newfound power. “And 378, that was nowhere near good enough. Do it again.” Karofsky smiled cruelly as an idea occurred to him. “Hmm, or maybe you need some help?” he questioned as he simultaneously shoved Prisoners 219 and 378 towards each other, hard enough that they nearly collided head on with one another, causing Sebastian to cackle in amusement.

“Come on, 378. Tell your pretty little princess here how much you love him,” Karofsky shouted.

“What? Fuck that, dude. Not a chance,” Prisoner

“Say it again, 378. Say you love 219.”

Prisoner 378 turned on the spot, furious. “No! I am not doing this to my boy!”

Karofsky strode towards him, red in the face. “You are going to do it right now, 378, or so help me I will…”

But before he could finish, Prisoner 378 roughly shoved Karofsky to the ground. Almost immediately, Sebastian ran to help the other guard up, while Blaine stood back, far too dumbstruck to react.

Prisoner 378 continued to lash out and shout, any earlier vestiges of self-control now long gone. “Fuck the simulation! Fuck this experiment! Fuck Doctor Cohen! Fuck all of this!” he roared, tugging on the chain around his ankle before running towards the guards once more, prepared to strike.

Thankfully, at that very moment, the door burst open and Doctor Cohen entered, flanked by two research assistants. “Prisoner 378, you’re coming with me. You broke the rules of the study and you are hereby dismissed without compensation,” Doctor Cohen said, signaling for the two assistants to restrain Prisoner 378 and leading the group out without another word.

“Fine then! I didn’t need that fucking money anyway,” 378 snarled, as the assistants dragged him from the room.” He voice rose as he started to disappear from view, wanting to impart a final few words of wisdom. “You keep fighting, 219! Remember what I told you.”

He managed to free himself from the research assistant’s grasp for a moment, running back into the room and rounding on Blaine, who was still watching the scene unfold in muted horror. “And you. You might be the only decent one left. You better watch out for my boy and you’d better not hurt him again or I’m coming for you. All of you. Protect him, okay?” he asked, his voice softer as he fixed his gaze solely on Blaine before being dragged out of the room. The door slammed harshly behind them, leaving the dumbfounded guards and remaining prisoners in silence, Prisoner 378’s words still ringing in their ears.

“Protect him,” Prisoner 378 has said. Don’t hurt him. You might be the only decent one left. Blaine wasn’t sure that any of what the rebellious prisoner had said was true. Decent? Am I decent? Blaine hardly knew anymore. But there was one piece of Prisoner 378’s advice that Blaine was determined to follow. You’d better not hurt him again. It wasn’t much, but that was one promise that Blaine swore he would keep, no matter what the cost.