"Like I said, agnostic household growing up. Sometimes we'd go visit my grandparents for Chanukah or Yom Kippur, but even they knew that was more tradition than anything. 'Be a good boy, and grow up to be a good man. That's your religion', my father used to say."
After hours, perhaps even a day kept in darkness, Cassandra could no longer tell, light was again introduced into the holding chamber. Accompanied by two Cherubim, a single man came up to her cell, unlocked it and grabbed her by the chains that locked her hands together. As soon as she could Cassandra tried to struggle. She kicked and sloppily swung her chained hands, getting a few strikes in before one of the Cherubim grabbed her by her frayed black hair and crashed her into the wall. "Keep at it. You're only making this harder for yourself," the man sneered. And with that the three led her away.
"I don't know what made us appealing to that monster… If I had to guess though, he wanted to make an example out of us. You don't make an impact being predictable. You do so by betraying expectations. Blackfire wanted to groom the perfect messiah, and he just chose two innocuous Hebrew boys to do it."
Through the halls of the underground fortress Cassandra was led, at one point getting a brief glimpse inside a gigantic chapel, a towering stained glass image of a blonde haired Mary, garbed in royal violet and cradling the infant Jesus in the room's center. Onward they continued to lead her, too exhausted and hungry now to resist, until they arrived at a room that, upon opening the door, was revealed to be pure white, a man dressed in preacher's clothes standing in the center.
"I don't even know what he did to first dig his claws into our father. He was a higher-up at Gothcorp, and this was before their reputation was destroyed by Freeze. Maybe Boyle had dirty business to cover up way back then too. I can only imagine… That's irrelevant. Blackfire had an in with the company, and he used it to threaten all of our lives. All we had to do to secure our safety, was begin attending his church."
"I've heard a lot about you, little girl," the preacher said in a mocking tone as she was locked into a chair in the room's center by the Cherubim. "Oh yes. The Seraphim has big plans for you… It is rare a woman is welcomed into our ranks. Yours is a deceitful, weak-minded kind… But there are exceptions to every rule."
Cassandra's mind returned to Stephanie's remarks about Abimelech and, never being one to be defeated without absolute defiance, copied her statement. "Sexist pig." The preacher punched her across her already bruised face for the statement, but she refused to regret it.
"My father returned to us, trying to maintain a facade of happiness when he delivered the news we would begin being a religious household. That he had discovered God and Christ and we'd even be attending a very special church. All we had to do was board the subway at just the right time, ride it a few miles, and our fellow parishioners would show us the rest of the way… Blindfolded, of course. My brother wasn't a very smart kid, and he bought it almost instantly. But I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. I'm sure Mom did to, but I wasn't present for those conversations."
"Your seeing the sun again is a very simple process," the preacher said. "All you must do is proclaim the Lord Christ as your savior, and that you owe that salvation to The Church of the Voice."
"I already accepted Jesus," Cassandra said. "Though I may not anymore."
"Oh? And why is that?" The preacher asked.
Once more, Cassandra saw no purpose and found no energy for lying. "I was told it was sinful to love my best friend. Because she is a woman."
At this remark, the preacher slapped her across the face. Even attacks that she could normally ignore stung horribly now, but Cassandra fought to not show an ounce of give. "Further proof of your weakness! God has gifted you with the gift of life, and to give life, and yet ones such of you continue to come into this world. Driven by the lust of Satan himself, that has infected this entire horrible city!"
"The new recruits to the church were locked in a room, one at a time, with Blackfire himself, after we'd attended the Sabbath mass. I never even knew where they all came from… Dozens of children, almost all of them boys, would obediently wait in line to enter that room. I used to wonder if he had somehow blackmailed all of their parents too. Blackfire would explain to us what we were to belief. If we were belligerent, we would be punished. At first physically, and then, if we continued, with what was called, 'The Mist'."
Cassandra could barely keep track of every misanthropic word out of the preacher's mouth. Every sentence was riddled with 'hell' and 'damnation' and 'Satan'. She knew every one of these words, but had never heard them given such weight. With every mere look of defiance, the preacher struck her again, still railing on how weak she was, how only God could ever make her anything of worth. "I am not the one attacking a chained prisoner," Cassandra remarked, struggling to keep her right eye open upon beatings and bruisings.
With a last strike, the preacher remarked, "Talking never breaks them. The Mist will open your eyes. Rest assured." And with that, the preacher disappeared behind the door, leaving Cassandra alone in the wholly white room. In solitary, the room's complete silence and lack of color slowly beginning to feel unnerving.
There then came a small, sizzle like sound, and then there came a flash in front of her. It was some collection of nonsensical shapes, projected in black on the white wall from somewhere she could not see. The air in the room began to grow moist, and she reeled in disgust when she got a first, burning smell. She began to wheeze in pain, trying to focus, unsure of just what she was dealing with. And, at last, there came a high, sharp whistling sound, unhearable under normal circumstances, but too clear locked in the otherwise silent room.
"I have no idea what it is, some kind of liquefied drug cocktail. It assaults your senses. Rips you apart… The pain is hell, but it's only just the beginning. It's the conditioning that wrecks you."
As the burning smell entered her nostrils, Cassandra could feel her head beginning to spin. The seemingly random shapes upon the screen began to move and dance about. She stared in confusion as her body began to go numb, followed shortly thereafter by a sudden rush of fire all through her being. Though she had tried to resist the preacher and the room, the burning was digging deeper into her core as sweat dripped from her temple, the black shapes on the screen suddenly bearing all sorts of colors.
Some kind of loudspeaker began to play a recorded message as Cassandra continued to pull and struggle against the chains. "There is only one way to freedom." The voice, certainly The Seraphim's, began. "Only by the grace of the Lord God almighty will you ever escape this bondage… And escape the fires of hell!"
The screen instantly began to flash red and black, Cassandra's eyes growing wide in horror and, buckling under the overload to her senses, began to scream, shutting her eyes tight. The reds and blacks were not simply colors, they bore images of violence and death, and yet she could not identify why. There was no sign of human life upon the screen, just constant showings of shapes and blots of ink, but as they continued to attack her eyes, she could make out blood-like stains, formations of fire and jagged spires containing them.
"Behold the flames!" The Seraphim roared. "This is death! This is destruction! This is what suffering is, child! God has formed this wasteland for the ilk of the earth, and he has sent us to purge the world of these scum! You have been offered a chance to escape this torment. To escape their torment!"
And with that declaration, the screen began to flash new images, these ones of men, women and children sobbing in despair, every one looking as if it was a black and white photograph splattered and colored in part with blood. Each flash continued to wear on Cassandra, as she fought the mental assault and tried to look away with all her might, but somehow, The Seraphim's scream of, "Look forward!" forced her eyes back on the screen. To any normal human being, the images would be horrific. But to Cassandra, who had felt death as it overwhelmed her only victim, years ago, she felt ripped limb from limb as the whistle continued to accent her suffering. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mouth hung slack as she screamed in agony with every new call from The Seraphim and every new flash of anguish.
"Our parents were never subjected to it. Blackfire wasn't interested in them. He only wanted to create his little messiahs. He threatened our lives if we ever told anyone… Dan seemed to take it all in stride. I have no idea how, but he seemed to absorb everything they inflicted on him with ease. Blackfire used to tell me how much more impressed with him he was in comparison to me… Like I said, my parents didn't know the truth. If they did, they would have forced us out of Gotham as soon as possible… But I could only keep those horrors a secret for so long. Eventually, I could take no more."
Dripping in sweat and drool, Cassandra desperately gasped for fresh air amongst the sting of the burn. As the screen again went white, The Seraphim said, "There are many who deserve to burn in hell. But there are a select few God has chosen to be worthy, not to suffer, but to revel in his greatness and love… The only requirement, is to deliver the evildoers into the abyss."
"I told my parents of the way Dan and I were suffering under Blackfire. Of the torturous methods he was using to force us to pray for the damnation of our own unconverted family, and that someday, we would follow him into glorious battle and help tear Gotham City apart. My mother didn't believe me, but Dad had already felt quite enough of the madman's wrath. Only Dan tried to fight it when he commanded we pack our bags and leave that night. It was only sixty minutes later, my mother trying to convince him to get up and move, that there came a knock on the door… And whoever was on the other side killed my parents in two quick gunshots."
Cassandra was left alone, feeling ruined and defeated, for half an hour before the door was opened and she was led out again by the chains trapping her hands. This time, she offered no resistance.
"Some tiny part of me hoped it would at last mean freedom from that nightmare. We had no family living in Gotham, when one of our uncles came, he was sure to lead us out of that city and away from that dreaded church forever… We just had to wait it out in the Saint Enoch orphanage… That should have been obvious enough…"
Cassandra was thrust back into the cell next to Joshua, who was eating a slice of crusty bread and drinking from a cup. As she approached her own tray of food, he remarked, "Give it another day. That stuff is drugged. You can have a little of mine if you are still so determined… Now, where was I…?"
"From the moment we entered the doors of the orphanage, I knew something was very wrong. I recognized every child kept within, they were the exact same lot that I would see being locked in the room with Blackfire… And are still the same ones to this day. At first I thought my parent's death a horrible coincidence, but all of these fellow orphans made it clear. Blackfire's hands were stained with the blood of all of their parents too."
Cassandra, heaving with exhaustion, tried desperately to steady a hand on the water Joshua slipped through the bars before she collapsed out of weakness and fell unconscious for the night.
"We spent five years under his influence before he killed our parents and another five trapped by him pulling strings in that orphanage. I began to despair in that time… While Dan only grew more and more excited. It was utterly horrific, the way that man managed to shape him… Until, at last, a decade into his grooming, Blackfire made his ultimate mistake."
The next day, she was again led away by the chain. Again attacked and ranted to by the preacher, and again forced to view the images that had so horribly violated her mind.
"We were both brought into his chamber that day, that room of pure white. He congratulated Dan for his incredible devotion. That the way that he was about things, he would surely claim the church for himself. He only required one, final, demonstration. And with a quick overpowerment, Blackfire chained me to that chair in the room's center."
Days continued to go by like this, each beginning to melt into the next as Cassandra struggled desperately to keep her mind in one piece. With each return to the cell, barely eating enough to keep herself alive, she became weaker and weaker. The Mist slowly killing her.
"He handed Daniel a knife and commanded that he kill me. Only by spilling my soiled, unworthy blood would he prove he was capable of doing for the church what was truly necessary. To even my shock, Daniel refused, even as Blackfire forced the blade into his hand… And then he slashed his throat in retaliation… I heard talk of another Blackfire a few years thereafter, but I wasn't in Gotham at the time… Surely it could not have been the same zealot…"
On the fifth consecutive day within the white room, something changed. As Cassandra sat, bracing herself from the nightmares of The Mist, she found herself writhing and screaming before the moisture even came. She was only allowed a moment to ponder this before the images began to flash and The Seraphim began to preach, faster and stronger than ever. Somehow, they were perfectly emulating the effect of The Mist without even using it. The purpose of the sharp whistle was now revealed: it was conditioning her mind to associate the assault with the sound. Cassandra could now only continue to look on in terror as her mind commanded the release adrenaline and other hallucinogens simply in response to the near-inaudible whistle.
"I hoped against every chance that Daniel had awoken to the evils around as. As we ran from the bleeding Blackfire, I was sure he was dead. Sure we could just leave that life behind forever… It was only when I ended up in here that I realized Daniel only refused to kill me because he felt he wasn't subservient to Blackfire any longer."
Days continued to fade in that darkness. Nothing made any sense anymore.
"I was given a few years of relative bliss… I did everything in my power to save my brother, even going so far as to have him stuck in Arkham Asylum, hoping in vain they could put him back together… Or maybe just keep him locked up... As we know now, they failed. Blackfire was looking to create an army, and through Daniel, he created one. Throw in a few stupid stories about being descended from some famous religious maniacs and the members of the church will take anything. Those who refuse to cooperate are stuck in those costumes and helmets, hearing that damn whistle for the rest of their days as they fall apart, their minds devouring themselves, and they fall down and hail The Seraphim as their master."
"Is that true?" Cassandra asked. "Is that what those helmets are?" Joshua nodded. She contemplated this with the last of her strength for the day before asking, "Is that what… His helmet is for too?"
"It is." Joshua said. "Dan is addicted to The Mist. The way it causes all others suffering, it causes him absolute ecstasy. He, very literally, does not see a dirty city in need of a savior… He sees demons walking through every street, bloodstains upon brick and mortar. He sees nothing but Sodom and Gomorrah waiting to be destroyed anew. And now, after all of those years of waiting, he's ready for that great deliverance."