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only got about six of those to endure.” Ryan blanched, but Dr. March placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Don't look so scared. You can't be afraid of needles when you'll soon be facing swords!”
    The next six shots were painful but not excruciating and left behind sore spots on his skin that made Ryan think he should play connect the dots.
    After another part of the whistled tune, the doctor said, “We've got butterflies, polka dots, cupcakes, race cars and jungle animals.”
    “What?”
    Dr. March held up a pack of bandages. “Those are your choices.”
    “You don't have any normal ones?”
    “My job is to treat Betas for their academy enrollment,” Dr. March said flatly. “Almost all my patients are ten years old.”
    Ryan grunted. “Race cars.”
    “We've only got one step left,” Dr. March said to Ryan's relief.
    Reaching over to the tray, he grabbed a device that looked like a pair of giant pliers. “This just measures your wrist,” he quickly assured before clasping it around Ryan's wrist. He turned a dial on it until it was firmly clasped then took note of the setting. “There we are.” He crossed the room and opened one of the clear cases lining the wall, whistling again as he inspected the contents. “And here we are.”
    When he turned back around, Ryan spotted a notorious band in his hand. There it was: the band that marked all Belligerents, and it was about to go around his wrist as a permanent disclaimer to everyone he met from that day forward.
    He was a criminal. He was a Belligerent.
    “You've seen these before, I assume.” Dr. March said as he sat down in front of Ryan once more.
    “Only on someone's wrist and from a distance,” Ryan said. He was unable to take his eyes off the rather large needle-like device on the inside of the band.
    “This will hurt.”
    “You can't just numb me?”
    Dr. March gave him a gloomy smile. “It's not allowed,” he said with a shake of his head. “This is meant to be your first real wound as a Belligerent. A rite of passage almost, I guess. Albeit a private one.”
    Ryan rolled his eyes and then glared at the doctor. “Of course. It was sadists who came up with this system, and it's sadists who still enforce it.”
    Dr. March carefully turned the band in his hold allowing Ryan to see every micrometer of its surface. The man seemed as kindly as a snake at that moment. His jovial exterior was but a ruse for the children. Another lie.
    Ryan took a deep breath. “Well, ten year old kids get this done all the time. Can't be that bad.”
    No whistling this time.
    “Hold out your wrist, please.”
    His nerves somewhat under control, Ryan didn't hesitate. He stretched out his arm, forcing himself to watch as his freedom was officially, unceremoniously stripped from him.
    “Remember, you can't be afraid of a little needle when you'll soon be facing swords.”
    With that said, Dr. March forced the band onto Ryan's wrist. The thick needle pierced his skin and dug into his vein before the band clasped closed with a sickening snap. Soon he felt a liquid being released from the needle and his head floated.
    “It's an acclimation drug. The ‘warning drug,’ as they call it. It will wear off in a few minutes.”
    Dr. March tried to explain the violating sensations, but Ryan was too busy releasing a choked-off scream to care. His arm felt as if it was seizing and melting at the same time. The agony spread from his wrist to his shoulder. Then it consumed his entire body. Spots clouded his vision and he fought to remain conscious. It took several minutes for the drug to wear off, and when it did, Ryan still needed even more time to rein in his breathing.
    “What... What now?” Ryan asked, watching as Dr. March manipulated his tablet.
    “Now, you come with me,” a new voice called from behind.
    Ryan sluggishly turned to face the doorway. “Shifter?”
    Shifter grinned back at him. “Hello, Ryan. Ready to catch our