I don't own any characters.

This plot line has been in my mind for a while, and I'm quite pleased with the results.

Please review, they really make my day.

Enjoy!


"I had to, you don't understand. Let me go, let me go!" Annabeth yelled out defiantly, struggling against the iron grip of the black clad men her. "Let me go!" She heard the car drive away behind her, but couldn't turn her head. "Please, I can't stay here." She broke into a sob on the last word, her eyes full of unshed tears.

The building she was being pulled towards towered above her, a giant grey cube on the flat desert landscape. Everything was concrete. The entire building was a dull grey, not a spark of colour anywhere. There were hundreds of tiny windows, the ones on the top few floors with bars across, the others not. Annabeth reckoned that was where the inmates were kept.

Inmates. That was what the they were. The Institute was a school of correction, for people who broke the Contract.

She was pulled to the doorway, which slid up mechanically as she reached it. Behind it were more guards, piling around her so deep that she could no longer see the walls around her, only the concrete floor below her and the concrete ceiling above her. The guards all wore black. Black gloves, black uniform, black masks. Not an inch of their skin was free, thick padding making it hard to distinguish between genders. She was pulled along the nondescript corridors, stumbling up countless steps, until she at last came up to a door. It was dull grey and thick, identical to all the other doors that stretched along the never ending corridor. Each door probably held another one of the Demigod Project. The thought amazed her.

The Demigod Project was covered in obscurity. But she knew a few things. A group who called themselves G.A.I.A had injected an unknown virus into a group of babies, each one containing different genetical data. The babies had grown up, and when the different powers started to show through, they were made to sign a Contract that said that they were to never use their skills. If they broke the Contract they were thrown into the Institute.

She was shoved into the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Everything was grey her as well. A simple single bed in the corner, a small wardrobe without doors, and an opening at the side which led to a simple toilet and sink. Grey, grey and more grey. There was a tiny window with no glass in, thick bars stretching across them with only the tiniest spaces between each one. She sat down on the hard bed, staring around at what now must be her home.

"Annabeth Chase, your name is now 908." The voice was emotionless and calm, not male or female. "If you refer to yourself anything other than 908 you will be put in Correction." The message clicked off. Then another recorded message began this one was just as emotionless, except now it seemed even more clinical and impersonal.

"You have an assigned carer. If you are abusive in any way you will be put in Correction. Food is served at 7am, 12pm and 6pm. If you do not attend these times you will be put in Correction. Between 10 and 11am and 2 and 3pm you will be allowed outside to spend your time freely, as long as you abide by the rules. Once outside you will not take off any of your uniform, engage any guard in conversation or attempt to leave the compound. If you do any of these you will be put in Correction. If you show any abusive behaviour towards the guards they will defend themselves accordingly and you will be put in Correction. In the training centre you will not interfere with another of the DG program. Under no circumstances will you make any emotional attachments to anyone else in the building. If so you will be put in Correction. You will not lie about the actions taken by the guards, if you do you will be put in Correction. If you are discovered with any weapons, you will be put in Correction indefinitely."

The announcement clicked off, leaving Annabeth with too many questions. What was Correction? It didn't sound pleasant, whatever it was. She decided then and there that it wouldn't be in her best interests to end up in there. And then there was the training centre. The DG program must be the Demigod Project. She shook her head. She would find out the answers to her questions soon enough.

Next to her was a pile of clothes. Grey shirt. Grey shorts. Grey boots. Thick grey gloves. What struck her was the fact it wasn't like a prison uniform. It wasn't shapeless and bulky. It was a uniform that allowed her to move. As she slipped on her new clothes she realised that they fitted her perfectly, not too tight and not too big. The gloves felt like a second skin, not restricting her movement at all. Except once they were on they wouldn't come off again, as if they had sealed themselves to her skin. It was just as well. She wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else now.

She slipped her old ripped clothes into the shoot that opened out of the wall, holding her t-shirt just above the gaping black mouth. In the t-shirt was her knife, the one that had saved her life too many times. But Correction sounded nightmarish, and if it was enough to terrify everyone else here into obeying the rules, she didn't fancy going there indefinitely. So she let go, the knife making a dull clunking noise as it hit the metal of the tube. Just as she sat down again the door swung open, revealing a black clad figure. She was slim, with blood red lips and a pale complexion. Her eyes were huge and covered in eye liner, staring at her. Her face broke into a snarl.

"You're 908." It was a statement, not a question. "I'm Kelly, I'm your carer. You obey me, or you'll pay. You're a monster, barely even human. I suggested that they just shoot all of you dead, but they didn't seem to want to. Shame." Her voice was high and squeaky, but it soon turned into a growl. "Follow me."

Annabeth dully followed the guard, the corridors blending into one as she trekked down. Maybe that was the point. Kelly suddenly stopped, making Annabeth slam into her back. "Watch it Blondie." The guard snarled, and Annabeth had to bite back her response. She would make Kelly regret her words, but she would find out about her surroundings first. Kelly pushed a button, the door sliding upwards on oiled hinges.

The sight in front of her made Annabeth gasp.