I do not own Beware the Batman.

"Slumber"

For the next few weeks, she would suffer in silence. Every morning a therapist would visit her in her cell, conducting meaningless tests that were supposed to "heal" her. After approximately an hour, the therapist would leave her laying down on her cot. Margaret would stay there, in that exact position, her eyes staring at the hard, metal ceiling. In a way she was a bird, one with claws, and occasionally she found herself wondering how thin the walls were.

Wondered. She had never tried to escape, and she did not understand why.

Once a week the prisoners were escorted out into a caged-in courtyard. Handcuffs were removed from her hands and the guards from her sides, and for that small portion of time, she let herself believe she was free. Drenched in pale sunlight, she would walk where she wanted when she wanted, the small area of the courtyard not bothering her I the slightest. After her claustrophobic cell, even the smallest of grassy areas looked like an entire world, and in this world she began to understand.

In the second month at her stay in Stone Gate, she had a dream. A nightmare. In it, she looked through clouded vision into a room filled with machinery. Muffled voices spoke back and forth in hushed tones, and she strained to hear what they were saying.

"-nning out of time… Procedure failed… No… Shiva insists on it."

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. The more prominent voice was that of a man, obviously trying hurriedly to explain something to the smaller, feminine voice. By the strain in their whispering, she assumed they hadn't want anyone to hear them. Margaret bit down a growl. That explained the clouded senses. This wasn't the first time they had drugged her.

"No change… Trying all we can… She's only getting worse."

The feminine voice spoke this time, and she found her earing had become sharper. Trying her best to memorize her position and breathing rate, she concluded she would have to appear to remain asleep.

"Doesn't know who she is… Tell Shiva… You mean the serum? No, what do you mean it's not…?"

There was a sudden pressure on her shoulder, then the rush of stale air on her skin as Margaret was forced to sit up. Groping for something solid, she found a metal slab and clutched it. "How much did you hear? Tell me, girl!" The man's voice rang loudly in her ears, the sudden change in volume irritating her still-sensitive ears.

"I-I don't understand," her throat felt numb, her voice coming out hoarse.

The man took her other shoulder in his meaty hand and roughly jostled her. Her vision was clearing now, and she could make out the heavy-set frame of a middle-aged man. Thinning black hair streaked with gray clumped unevenly on his head as if he had a habit of running his fingers through it. Scowl lines were indented between his eyebrows, and his thick lips were bitten raw. He had lead of a life of seriousness, and had no room for petty things such as patience.

"I-I didn't hear anything!" It wasn't a total lie. In her drugged state everything had come in pieces that were hard to hook together.

The man growled, then roughly released her, sending her back up against cool metal.

"Dr. Ravencroft- make sure she doesn't remember this," he threw at the woman who had been talking to. Scowling, he spun on his heel and exited the room.

Margaret felt her blood turn to ice. He had heard the scientists use that term before. Quickly, she sorted through her recollections of the past few days. She had been… She had been… What had she been doing? She blinked, her vision now clear. There were bars all around her with just enough space in between them to stick her hand through. Above her was a slab of steel, preventing her escape. Cage. She was in a giant cage.

Her heart rate picked up to accompany the panic that was beginning to overtake her. How long had she been here? Who were these people and what did they want with her? Why couldn't she remember anything?

A series of rhythmic footsteps came from the far side of the room, growing louder. Eyes wide, Margaret looked at the laboratory beyond her bars. A young woman, Ravencroft, was approaching her. She had blonde hair that hung to her shoulders and large, brown eyes behind thick glasses. A starch lab coat hung loosely on her petite figure. S she came closer, Margaret mused she looked…familiar.

Ravencroft stopped directly in front of the cage, offered a shifty smile. "This won't hurt a bit," she whispered.

She was right. Margaret did not feel the needle go in.

It was a disturbing dream, to say the least, but as unsettling as it was, it was still a recollection of her past. A memory.

After several more weeks, she made her move. Clad in prison orange, she burst through the doors of Stone Gate and took her first breath of cool, clean night air in months. The prison was lite with spotlights, the frantic yells of guards coming from all corners of the building. No one searched outside. She was free.

Smiling, Margaret Sorrow- no- the Magpie, began to run. She had plan.