Blaine is harshly thrown into a cell after being dragged the short distance from the appointment room by muscled security guards. He loses his balance and falls flat on the concrete, his hands cuffed behind him preventing any way of cushioning his fall. The door was slammed shut before he even hits the ground. He’s no longer human, who cares if rough treatment causes him injury? No one other than himself he suspects.

He rolls onto his side and brings his knees up to his chest, before fidgeting so he is sat upright. He doesn’t make any attempt to stand – there is nowhere to sit other than the floor anyway. He shuffles backwards a few feet so his back is against the wall, and leans against it. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’s the best he can do in this situation. He examines the holding cell, his home from July the 23rd until the end of the month. Opposite to the door, there is a thin blue mat, much like those used in gym class at schools across the country. Only this one seems in a worse state than all those he has seen before, almost all the padding has disintegrated and has a lot of questionable stains covering the surface. It is not very long, Blaine recons that even with his mere height he wouldn’t be able to lay stretched out on it. Not that the idea of going near it is at all appealing at this current time. Above the mat there is a tiny open window; Blaine approximates it to be 6 inches high and 12 inches wide, its only purpose to let in a small amount of fresh air to stop the room from smelling foul. Above the window and the door are two security cameras, giving him no privacy. He is sure there will be someone watching him around the clock for his first few days. There is a light on the ceiling, protected by a clear plastic dome resulting in no access to the light itself. Of course, there is no light switch in the 5 foot by 7 foot room. He chuckles, realising that his home for the next week is smaller than his closet at his parents.

Thoughts of his old home bring him to wonder if they know he is a sub yet. His Dad is likely still sat in the car, having not been allowed in the building, probably not yet even wondering why he isn’t out. Eventually, after sitting there for another 3 hours, he will realise Blaine isn’t coming back, so will turn the car around and drive home, with only the assumption that Blaine has been took. The OSO didn’t tell parents when a child is marked a sub, they were just left wondering.

When Blaine had arrived at the large OSO office he stayed sat in the car. He had already said his goodbyes to his Mom, who opted to stay at home. He had a pretty good idea that he wouldn’t be coming back out, even with knowing how to fake the test he was sure he wouldn’t manage to pull it off. Although of course he was still going to try to pass. He turned to his Dad.

“Whatever happens son, your Mom and I will always love you. Remember, I will wait for plenty of time, if you run late I will still be sat here for you when you walk out that building as a hum. Keep your head held high and don’t let them push you around and you will be fine.” His Dads eyes are filled with tears. They both know the most likely outcome of this visit, but neither are willing to acknowledge it. They both look at the clock in sync, running short of time. “I love you so much.” His Dad holds open his arms and Blaine falls into them, also silently crying.

“I love you too Dad. So much. I love you and Mom and I will never forget that.” With that he steps out of the car, taking nothing but his birth certificate, his school ID card and the clothes on his back. He isn’t allowed to take anything else. He walks towards the entrance doors without looking back, wanting to leave his Dad with those 3 sentences, and not sure how put together he will be if he looks back again. 

 He realises now that his first point was from turning up crying. Everyone knows you are being watched and tested before you even meet an OSO officer.

He approaches the desk and hands his birth certificate over. The lady at the desk smiles at him before pressing some buttons on the computer, Blaine assumes to check that it is the correct certificate.

“Have you got your school card as well please Blaine?” She asks politely. He fumbles getting it out of his pocket, but eventually composes himself enough to pass it over. “Thanks sweetie.” And goes back to keying in more information. “Everything’s fine, if you would like to take a seat love, someone will call you when they are ready.”

Blaine smiles and heads to a seat away from the 4 other people also waiting, sitting on the edge of a chair. He assumes the 23rd of July isn’t a very popular birthday, as on average there are at least 10 people constantly in a waiting room at one of the 12 OSO offices, with people leaving and new people entering every 10 minutes. He fidgets in his chair, nervously looking around. The others are all reading a magazine from the collection on the coffee table, but Blaine doesn’t want to take one.

 He expects the fumbling earned him one point, and not relaxing into the chair combined with not reading a magazine earned him 3 points. 5 points before he even was called into a testing room!

“Blaine Devon Anderson, please.” A lady calls, and Blaine instantly rises to greet her. She is wearing a tracksuit like all the test administrators do, and has very short blonde/white hair. “Hello Blaine, I’m Sue Sylvester and I will be in charge of your test today. If you would like to go to room two I will be there shortly.”

“Yes ma’am.” He replies politely. He heads down the long corridor until he sees the door with a two on. Shyly he opens it, but as expected there was no one in there. Instead there is lots of equipment, things he has no idea what for. He spots a desk with two chairs, like in a doctor’s surgery, and takes the seat furthest from the computer. He’s tempted to look at what’s on the screen, but he sees a camera angled in his direction so discards that idea.

In retrospect, Blaine thinks he should have looked at the computer. Responding instantly, addressing the lady formally, and then doing exactly as he was told would have earned him a further 5 points.

He hears the door open, but doesn’t turn to look until the lady is almost beside him. She gives him a funny look, causing him to drop his gaze guiltily, although he isn’t sure what he is guilty of. She sits in the other seat before speaking.

“So Blaine, first of all I just have a few security questions for you to answer. Who do you live with?”

“My Mom and Dad.” He responds. His brother moved out last year, but he doesn’t volunteer the information, only answering what he is asked.

“What about any siblings or pets?” She asks, prompting him to elaborate.

“My brother moved out last year. I haven’t ever had a pet.”

“What’s your brother’s name?” Blaine doesn’t know why she wants to know so much detail, surely security questions are meant to be short and to the point?

“Cooper Ma’am.” Sue smiles at this response, Blaine assumes it’s because she liked being addressed formally. He hadn’t been told what to call her, but he becomes more relaxed now he knows she appears to prefer the formal title.

“Thank you Blaine. I’ve now got a paper test for you to answer. Don’t worry about it, it’s just basic Math and English questions so we can get a rough idea of your academic level. I will leave the room so you can do it in private. Take as long as you like, and press this button on the wall once you are done.” She says pointing to a blue switch. Sue gets up and leaves after placing a pen and two sheets of paper in front of him.

Blaine looks at the paper on the desk, and the small nerves that had been growing subside. The first question is ‘If you spend $9.48 in a shop, and hand over a $10 note, how much change do you expect to be returned?’ He whizzes through all 20 questions, and presses the button as soon as he is done.

The dropping of his gaze. The short answers. The formal title. The correct test answers. The quick call back. That earned him another 15 points. Blaine realises his test was so short because he had already earned half the needed points within the first 5 minutes. There was no way he was going to make it safely to the end of the two hour test.

The lady comes back into the room and marks his test. Blaine knows he got everything correct; he didn’t have a private education scholarship for no reason.

“That’s all very good Blaine. You only got one wrong!” One? How could he get one wrong? “I’m afraid you spelt the word shopping with two p’s rather than one.” It should be two p’s, Blaine knows that. “It should be s-h-o-p-i-n-g.” The lady pauses and looks up at Blaine. He knows she is wrong, but doesn’t want to argue with the one woman who could take away his humanity.

He should have argued. Why didn’t he argue? He remembers now that on every site he went on to research the test, they told him to argue. That the assessor would claim one thing on the test to be wrong, even though it wasn’t, and if you didn’t argue that in fact you were correct, they would double the points you had already earned. For most people, they still would have been below the 50 point limit. Blaine is even rarer than one in a million. He starts shaking, trying to hold back the tears.

“You still scored very well though, so that’s all fine.” Blaine believed the lady. “If you would please follow me, we just have a quick physical test before we move onto the next stage. We wouldn’t want to make you do something detrimental to your health.” The lady was walking in front of him, so Blaine didn’t realise the sarcasm dripping from that sentence.

As they left room two, a guard started following behind them, obviously going in the same direction. He had only been here for a small fraction of the test, so Blaine knew he wasn’t there for him. Was he? They walked down several corridors, Blaine getting lost and disorientated in the process.

They enter a second room, this one a lot smaller, with a dentist chair set up in the middle. The guard doesn’t follow them in, so Blaine assumes he had continued on his way.

“If you would like to take a seat Blaine, I just need to take a quick blood test before we head out to the gym.” Blaine sits down warily, unsure of why they need a blood test. DNA had nothing to do with subs and hums. And nowhere online had said anything about blood tests or gyms, everyone just did different activities within the first room.

Unless… The only people who got blood tests didn’t reappear.

Although he was expecting to be labelled a sub, the moment still shocks him. He shoots out the chair and heads to the door. The lady hears the commotion but doesn’t turn around, seeming to have expected this outcome.

“Oh, come on boy. Behave. What did you expect? Sit back in this chair or I will get Puck out there to come in and knock you out. You will always have two options. You behave and do as you are told, or you misbehave and get punished. In this case, punishment means a fist to your head.”

Blaine freezes, his hand on the door knob. Clearly, if he opens the door the guard from earlier will be ready for him. He slowly turns around. The polite expression on the ladies face had been replaced with a look scary enough to make him want to fall to his knees. He does.

“Good boy. Now on the chair.” He rises to his feet and moves to the chair, although his legs feel as heavy as led. Before he is fully laid down he has a needle in his arm. He tilts his head to the ceiling and shuts his eyes, trying to organise his brain and come up with a plan. He knew this would happen, so why does he feel so unprepared and shocked?

The needle is yanked out of his arm, and Puck enters. Blaine stands up, not really sure what to do. Puck grabs his arm before walking behind him and putting on a cuff. His other arm is grabbed and both hands are locked behind his back. He doesn’t bother to fight it.

“Good boy.” Puck says. Blaine hates the praise, but doesn’t react. “You are a very quick learner. Lets go.”

As they leave the room, another guard joins them and holds onto Blaine’s other arm. As if he was going to get past the first guard anyway! He has no idea where the guards lead him, but eventually he was thrown into a cell.

His thoughts bring him in a full circle.