Wow, this is the 50th chapter, huh? That's amazing. i remember when I first started this story, way back... when was it again?


The night was Hell. The deepest circle of Hell, leaning right over the dreaded lake of fire. Every little move, twitch, and blink, brought searing agony. Breathing, how I wished I could live without it.

Since my thoughts had a lot of time to drift, questions haunted me constantly. Had Jason let my team go home? How was I going to get out of this? How the heck was I supposed to go to the bathroom? I couldn't walk anyways. Very good thing I haven't eaten recently.

I shivered in the cold room, then wanted to strangle myself as shivering hurt me even more. I tried to push the pain from my mind, but it didn't work. Sleep was impossible, but unconsciousness wasn't. After several minutes that felt like hours, I finally slipped into unconsciousness.

WITH JASON AND KIM (EVIL JASON AND KIM)

"How's she doing?" Kim asked me, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist.

I frowned, and she immediately thought the worst, "Did she bleed out?"

"No." I said, "She's still alive, just…"

"Barley?" Kim guessed.

"No. That I could deal with. She's not giving up. Far from it." I growled.

"Well, you knew breaking her was going to be tough." Kim reminded me.

"She's not just being tough Kim, she's shrugging it off." I snapped. "It's like she doesn't even care."

Kim shrugged, "She grew up in the league of assassins, Talia would have made sure pain was second nature to her."

I nodded slowly, "Then how much pain is her breaking point."

Kim gave me a sly smile, "That's the fun part, finding out. Trial and error. Poke and prod."

I turned away from the window, smirking over my shoulder at her. I quickly grabbed her shoulders, ramming her into the wall next to me. I dove in, covering her lips with mine, biting her lower lip teasingly. I pulled away, waiting for her to say it.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I know." I said. This was all mine. I had the world, Gotham, Batman's legacy, Kim, and now a heir.

WITH KYLER:

I groan as Conan throws herself at the cell door again, and Mary pipes up, "No matter how many times you hit that door, it is never going to budge."

My eyes shoot to the corners of the cell, where tinny little green crystals shimmer slightly. Not to much, just enough to keep Conan drained, and powerless.

A few feet to my right, Raphael sat, in a meditating position, hands palms up on his knees, fingers curled slightly. He was trying to generate heat in his palms, get the flames going. Not a chance.

I look down at the floor, we're sitting in about two inches of water, and everything, even the air, to damp. It's practically raining the air is so wet!

I look over at Snow, who appears to be talking with a cockroach scurrying up and down the wall next to her head. Gabriel is huddled up next to Mary, trying to stay warm. They weren't used to this. They were trained to fight, not to survive. Michael shivers next to me, and I put my arm around him, drawing him closer, offering to share the little warmth my body was able to generate in this water filled cell.

He smiled gratefully, resting his head on my shoulder, rubbing his upper arms, trying to generate heat from friction.

I was freezing too, but I couldn't let it show. I looked over at Conan, as she shoved against the door one last time, before just falling to her knees, panting, and looking like she was going to throw up.

Alright Kyler, you're second in command, with Justin gone, you're leader.

I reached down to my ankle, slipping my foot beneath the fold of spandex, and pulled out a small flashlight. I turned it on, grateful for the waterproof covering Ollie had given me for the small light.

I pointed it at the door, revealing the door to be a sturdy, thick hunk of metal. I quickly saw the dilemma, not only was the door sealed shut with three heavy rusty, complicated locks I couldn't even begin to understand, but the hinges and edges had been treated with the bad end of a flame thrower. The door had been smelted shut. I skim the flashlight over the other walls, no other doors, no windows, hatches, no breaks in the plain metal walls. That's impossible. We had to have been put in here someway when we were knocked out.

I turned to Snow, "Does anyone remember how we were put in here?"

They paused, and Raphael looked up form his pointless attempts, "Why?"

I stood up, splashing through the water level, which really looked deeper than before, to go over to the door. I put my hand over the melted hinges, "They're cold."

"Every things cold." Michael pointed out, standing up, and a bit annoyed that his only heat source was on the move.

"If they didn't do this right after we were put in, how did we get in here?" I mused.

Everyone looked a bit disturbed at this, looking around for an answer.

Gabriel licked his lips, standing up as well, running his hand along the wall. "How long does it take metal to cool after it's been smelted?"

I was at a loss, turning to Raphael, hoping hot head knew.

He shrugged, "Depending on how hot, fourteen hours to a full day. If your talking about all the way liquid, then around a week almost."

I pointed to the door hinges, "How thick do you think this is?"

He walked over, putting his ear to the door, and tapping it with his knuckle. He pulled away, rubbing his chin, "Two or three inches."

Conan whistled, long and slow.

Mary's eyes widened, "Wow."

"I've seen better." I mumbled, "How long for these hinges to cool?"

He rubbed the metal with his thumb, "This is titanium."

"Three inches of titanium?" Gabriel mused, "What did they build this cell to contain? Darkseid?"

Conan let out a gasp, putting her hand over her mouth, staring at the edge of the door.

"What?" I asked, confused by her behavior. Conan wasn't usually an emotional person. It's not the fact she hid surprise, anger, sadness, or hate, it's just that she didn't have them. She wasn't emotionless, she just was a naturally happy person. Conan has stood beside me as we've taken children out of slave trade warehouses, looking at the children who were drugged, bruised, beaten, covered in their own urine and feces, and did it with a smile on her face, telling jokes to the kids to make them laugh, and then laughing with them. Whatever she had seen must be bad.

She just pointed to the wall, and I shined the light that way, revealing a deep carving into the metal door. The superman symbol, and judging by the blackened metal, written in heat vision. Next to it, was a small smear of blood, in the vague shape of a few fingers.

Conan shivered, shaking her head, "I hate this dimension."

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say, "Who's is it?"

Her shoulders started to shake, and she clenched her fists. "To big to be mine, to small to be Grandpa's."

And that definitely wasn't a girls hand. "I… I'm sorry Conan."

Her shoulders shook more, and suddenly, her head snapped up, and she pounded on the metal door, screaming in rage, she threw herself in the opposite wall, before punching another wall, and then body slamming into the last wall, lashing at the third wall again, punching, smacking, body slamming, head bashing, all the walls.

Michael, thoroughly shocked, grabbed me, pushing me in front of him a sa human shield.

Mary and Gabriel stood shoulder to shoulder, watching Conan throw her kryptonian fury into the walls, tense, ready to spring at the first sign of aggression Conan showed them. I didn't realize I hadn't stopped biting my lip until the iron taste of blood filled my mouth.

She screamed more, jumping up towards one of the four corners of the cell, digging her fingers into it. The titanium that would have been as easy to crumble as stiff bread was now of the likeness of cold cheese, hard, pasty, and a pain to dig your fingers through.

She ripped off the small speckle of kryptonite, falling to her knees immediately, and dropping it into the cold water. She jumped up to the next corner, ripping away the kryptonite, and the nest, and the last, until the four little crystals are dropped one after the other into the middle of the floor, and Conan collapses in the corner farthest from them, and gives me a look, "Kick 'em away."

I walk towards the middle, scoop up the four crystals from the middle, and carry them to the corner opposite Conan, covering them with tiny pieced of rock and sand.

She nods, panting, and standing up, "I think… I could break the door down now."

Mary suddenly snapped, "So that huge temper tantrum right then… you didn't really go insane with grief?"

Conan smirked, "Course not, trying to get my adrenalin up, so I could break off the kryptonite."

I suddenly was smirking with her, "Course, Conan never loses her cool."

She nodded, turning around, and fingering the wall in front of her, before pulling back, and punching the wall with all her might.

The sound of a sledge hammer connecting with a nail head echoed through the cell, making all of us grab our ears in pain. As the ringing sound faded, yet still echoed, throughout the cell, we looking up, to see a fist-shaped dent in the wall, barley a quarter of an inch deep.

Conan sank to the flooded floor, shaking he head, her shoulders beginning to tremble again. I walked over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder, "It's okay Conan, even Superman couldn't have broken through. He's probably be on the ground in pain by now."

She shook her head, and I frowned, "Conan, the fact that you're only half kryptonian is a strength, it means kryptonite only affects you half as much."

"It's not that!" She snaps, shooting me a look over her shoulder, then sighed, shaking her head slowly, "It's not that."

"Then what's wrong?" I asked, puzzled.

She laughed, "You don't know about it, seriously? Justin wouldn't leave me alone about it for three weeks when she found out."

"Found out what?" I asked, getting a bit annoyed. What was wrong?

She looked over her shoulder at me, "I'm claustrophobic."

She shivered, hugging her sides, "And it's small in here."

I groaned, one more thing to deal with. I turned back to the door. There had to be another way out of here. I looked back to Conan, "And chance of heat vision?"

"You know I won't get that till I'm eighteen." She groaned.

I looked to Kerosene, but the look on his face made me bite back my question. Of course he still couldn't produce enough molecular friction to supply flame. I shook my head at my own thoughts.

Kyler, seriously, more physical training, less time hunched over physic books, okay? I can hear Ollie laughing at my mental statement, saying that exact sentence.

He would have messed my hair up, shaking his head, and then said something like: You up for ice cream?

Curse that man and his ever present supply of junk food.

Focus Kyler!

I turn to Gabriel, "Any of you know how to make light? My flashlight's gonna die."

Gabriel nodded, "Yes, we can, but not without our items."

"Items?" I asked.

"Holy items." Mary pitched in, "Like our weapons, which can expand and contract to our whim, our holy items also have special qualities. Holly water can cure any wound. Blessed manna can give you stamina for hours. A rock from the mound of Calvary will produce light when bathed in pure blood."

I raised my eyebrow, "Pure blood?"

She nodded stiffly, "Blood from one clean of sin, which rules all of you out."

I glared at her, "Really?"

She nodded, "If one commit's a sin, it can be forgiven, but you are never truly clean once again."

"That's baloney." I snapped, "The Bible says the when God forgives, He forgets."

She raised her eyebrow, "You know the Scriptures?"

I nodded, "I'm Jewish."

A FEW HORUS LATER, WITH JUSTIN:

I cried, the tears rolling down my cheeks, mixing with the dried blood, and onto the floor. Make it stop! Make the pain stop!

I had not gained enough relief from sleep to beat against the pain pulsing from head to toe. Crying hurt, blinking hurt, any little movement hurt like Hell times ten!

I sobbed harder, "God…" I choked out, "If there is one…"

I took in the deepest breath I could without feeling like my stitches on my abdomen were being pulled out, "If there is a God… then…"

I shivered in the cold room, knowing this was stupid.

"THEN I HATE YOU FOR PUTTING ME THROUGH THIS! GO TO HELL!" I screamed a the top of my lungs, then started sobbing again.

This is why it was stupid, because even if there was a God, and He heard me, He didn't care. And because yelling just hurt more.