February 7 Slave Intake

Six new bodies file through the door with one familiar face from last month. They stand stiff, wrists twitching, unsure which foot to put forward first. You can feel the room tighten around them. Nervous doesn't even cover it. They're lost. Heavy loads come next. Buckets, crates, whatever keeps their muscles burning and their minds blank. If they can't follow basic orders, they'll sweat until they can. Then the real tests begin. We push their throats deep, watch how long they can hold before they choke or tap. We edge them raw, force their bodies to wait, then detonate on command. Two fold. Too slow, too sloppy, too green. The door slams behind them and five remain, stripped down and panting, ready for what comes next.