The next day came too quickly, and the three quickly found themselves in the most rigorous medical examination of their lives. Poked, prodded, and sampled, their twelve hour day couldn't end fast enough, and by eight that night, they all three crashed onto their cots, worn out and missing a good amount of their bodily fluids. Clark found himself listlessly falling into complacency staring at the endless white of the walls until a sudden thought startled him. He bolted from his cot and began hammering on the door, yelling for anyone to let him out.

Lincoln started awake at the sounds of Clarks yells next door. He approached the door and leaned down to the lock, the only space on the door that let the outside world in through a sliver. With his ear pressed against the crack, he could just barely make out Clark yelling "let me out! You can't do this to her, to us, you can't!" Lincoln reeled back from the door, they were going to hurt Sybil somehow and his imagination burst forth with imagery of the many ways they could be torturing her to death at this very minute.

In reality, Sybil was fast asleep, completely wiped by the day. She never heard Clark's yells of warning or Lincoln's crazed thoughts of medieval torture instruments. She lay there, eyes closed, completely unaware of the three men in white jumpsuits approaching her door. She never heard the door open as she lay there sleeping. It wasn't until they grabbed her and mercilessly strapped her back to her cot that she even knew they were there. Two men held small tasers in hand, ready to make sure she obeyed, and a third held a syringe. Upon seeing the needle, Sybil began to viciously attack her bonds, completely unphased by the visual reminder of two tasers being held close to her body.

The incoming shock rippled through her body, she let it ease through her, as she had been taught in pain tolerance classes during school. Unfortunately for her captors, they were not allowed to abuse her more than a few shocks due to the condition her body was needed in. Sybil, awakening to what was about to happen to her, began to push through the pain and continue to try to make her way free, or at least make it virtually impossible for them to get their job done.

Patience began to wear thin on both sides of the exchange, which resulted in a fourth man being called into the room through a walkie-talkie attached to the syringe man's jumpsuit. Another five or so minutes passed with the men standing around Sybil watching her continuously bash herself against the braces and never getting anywhere. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, but Sybil was too busy trying to get free to understand. The walkie-talkie crackled, and a panicked voice followed by some shouting burst into the quiet room. The syringe man mumbled into his walkie-talkie but was quickly met with an ear wrenching noise that provoked him to throw the communication device to the floor as if it were a black spider crawling on his white suit.

The door was flung open a few moments later by a man carrying a much larger taser and a tray of syringes. But before he could even reach Sybil, he found his spoils and himself sprawled across the floor as both Clark and Lincoln burst into the small room. The three standing men advanced quickly, but the boys parried and dove to get away from their tasers and grasping hands. Clark held off the closest man who swung his taser in for a shock but to his surprise found himself wriggling seconds later as Clark turned the taser back on its owner. Lincoln pulled at Sybil's braces, their combined strength popping them open like a tube of puff pastry.

Sybil now joined the fray, the three an unstoppable force of punches, well-placed kicks, and tasers. After beating the life out of the four men, the three tore up the hallway, none of them sure of the exit, but each determined on escape. Rounding a corner, the three ran straight into a hallway lined wall to wall with people in white jumpsuits, armed. Within moments, the three could only see the darkness of their own minds as they dove into unconsciousness.

When Clark woke again, he was back in his cell, this time braces attached to his body, just like Sybil's. Unaware of how much time had passed, Clark suddenly became painfully aware of the IV sticking into his arm. He must have been out for long enough that he was losing nutrients. A throbbing began to pound the inside of his head, he reached up to press against the pain but was reminded once again that he was a prisoner with the twang of cold metal on his wrist.

Lincoln found himself in a situation identical to Clark's, his body pounding with pain as he lay there sucking life in from a bag hung next to his head. His thoughts quickly found their way to wondering what was happening to Clark, to Sybil. Were they being punished for their attempted escape, or were they also healing from large amounts of injuries, laying in bed like an invalid?

Sybil woke up so groggy that her vision was completely obscured. She ached in every part of her body, especially her lower stomach. She quickly leaned over the edge of the bed and gagged up the tiniest amount of bile possible. Her head spinning, she laid back and stared at the spinning white ceiling and pondered, it was so rare for her to gag, it must be the drugs, she thought as she slipped back into oblivion.