elimination

Switch gives me a grim look as we reluctantly open the doors to Practical Training. We configure ourselves in our usual manner as Doomsday and Apocalypse stand with arms crossed in front of us. Their faces seem even more cold and emotionless than usual. After an uncomfortable pause Doomsday begins to speak. “Today we will be doing an exercise that requires both willpower and physical stamina. It will complement your current learning in Past Events.” What are they going to do now? Pelt Bibles at us?

We are all lead through a door in the back of the room and through a labyrinth of hallways until at last we enter an enormous dome-shaped room. The room is lined with identical rows of metal nails that are arranged in separate V formations on the walls. For each formation there are two nails at the top and one tiny wooden platform at the bottom. One by one my fellow Titles are led to the V formations on the walls by Doomsday and Apocalypse. They are made to step onto the wooden peg at the bottom and fold their arms above their heads. From here they are told to elevate themselves with their toes and their arms are attached to the wall by removing the upper nails and hammering them through their wrists, (underneath the port and below the bone for support). Their medial nerves are severed and their hands immobilized. Then their feet—resting on the bottom wooden platform—are driven through by more nails at a 45 degree angle. Each person hangs from their arms. The instinct is for them to support themselves with their feet, but doing so is futile and only results in increased pain. At first I am baffled, but then it dawns on me: crucifixion?

Doomsday and Apocalypse are now accompanied by at least 50 more nameless officials who are attempting to pin us all up at the same time. I am shocked by the sheer magnitude of the pain, as I feel my entire body weight supported by two thin pieces of metal. I feel as though my arms ought to just rip, but somehow my bones hold me up. Blood steadily flows through my harpooned appendages as the position of my arms above my head makes it progressively harder to breathe. The officials have since gone. The room is silent except for labored breathing and occasional whimpering.

I am nailed to the wall between Dagger and One who are having a tense whispered conversation over me. “I can’t breathe.” Dagger’s voice cracks with fear as she entirely shatters her usual facade of cool superiority. One still appears entirely poised except for some evident annoyance at Dagger’s “inappropriate reaction to the trivial predicament of being nailed to a wall.” Dagger continues to speak, her panic mounting. “How is this willpower? Aren’t we all just going to die? Why are they crucifying us with our arms above our heads?” One rolls her eyes. “They don’t exactly have time to wait for us to die the traditional way now do they? With our arms above our heads we will suffocate more quickly. They are going to wait until the first so many weaklings die and take the rest of us down from the wall. Now be quiet, I’m trying to breathe!”

My arms have started to scream and I can feel my tolerance wavering. I focus only on my lungs: in and out, in and out. The walls are plastered with panicked faces and heaving chests. Both Tight Rope and 12 are clearly hysteric. Switch appears quiet and determined, yet I can still see the fear in his eyes. 14 stubbornly holds up his head as he fights with every inch of his being to retain his treasured composure.

Then he rips his arms and legs from the wall and begins floating forward through the air as his head topples off in a maniacal grin and starts spinning. Red spots start to sparkle on the ceiling while everyone else’s heads proceed to roll off and begin to spin, all smiling stupidly. They periodically bump into each other and explode into a million different colors. WHAT? My vision begins to darken as reality slips away. My eyes slowly close.