Chapter 20
A/N: hey everyone! Welcome back! Glad to see y'all here again and thanks for the reviews. Remember, I'm just the writer, none of the characters are mine, just the story idea.
/comms/
Telepathy/flashbacks/whatever else I need
Batcave, October 11, 20:34EDT
The team had been grounded for a week after their stunt with the Reds. No missions, no patrols, not even team hangouts. And at home, that also meant no gym time and no video games.
Sighing, Dick flopped into the char sitting in front of the computer, gazing up at the ceiling. Already he was starting to get bored. Alfred was getting stuff ready for some masquerade charity gala coming up—a terrible idea to hold in Gotham during October, but no one listened to his opinion when it came to fancy events. Not that he blamed them, normally he made his disdain for them well known. So well known that sometimes Bruce or Alfred would force him to go when he was in trouble as a form of punishment.
But still, he would even take helping Alfred with a stupid gala than sitting here losing his mind. After last time he tried to help though…well, long story short, Alfred had banned him from ever helping again. To be fair, save for planning theme and date ideas, Bruce was also banned from the process so it wasn't like he shouldn't have seen that coming. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't go upstairs until Alfred was done organizing his army.
So he was going to be losing his mind until either Alfred was finished for the night or Bruce got back and he managed to talk the man into letting him help on a case or something. He would've done so before the Dark Knight left, but apparently, he was working on one of those cases he didn't want Robin involved in. Something of which still drove him nuts to this day.
Actually…Dick sat up, glancing towards the elevator. Al probably wasn't going come check on him anytime soon. And Bruce probably would be going on patrol as soon as he was done with whatever he was working on; so he wouldn't be back till late tonight. Meaning he was going to be alone for the next few hours. A smirk crossing the Boy Wonder's face, he rolled the chair up to the desk, eagerly typing on the keyboard, pulling up the cases Bruce refused to let him help with.
Dick scowled as he saw a message flashing across the screen.
Richard, if you're reading this that means you're doing something I specifically told you not to do.
Get out of these files.
"Really?" he muttered, raising a brow.
Shaking his head, Dick rolled his eyes as he hacked into the files. It didn't take long for him to get in, meaning that his mentor had thought his warning would've deterred him from breaking the rules. Since when has that stopped him before? Bruce should've known him better than that.
Most of the cases in the restricted files seemed boring for the most part; just the standard rapists, pedophiles, human traffickers, all that stuff. Cases he didn't particularly blame Batman for leaving him out of. There had to be something interesting going on given how much Bruce had been working on these cases.
Continuing to scroll though the cases until he paused, moving back up to one he had passed. "Afton?" he murmured, brows furrowing. Like Mike? Why would Bruce have a case on Mike?
Brows furrowing, Robin began typing, working on hacking into the files. They had been suspecting a mole after all, and considering Mike's behavior when they rescued Tornado…it seemed a little more than suspicious.
It wouldn't hurt to check. He was just making sure his team was safe.
Perpetrator: William David Afton
Aliases: N/A
Age: 36
Relatives:
Gwendolyn Mary Afton—mother (deceased) John Winston Afton—father (deceased)
Clarissa Laura Schmidt-Afton—wife (deceased) Michael Alaric Afton—son
Elizabeth Morgana Afton—daughter (deceased) Evan Arthur Afton—son (deceased)
Crimes: 25 counts of 1st degree capital murder and kidnapping (more cases to be added). 2nd degree murder. Mass Murder. 18 counts of human experimentation (more to be added). 15 counts of mutilation (more to be added). 3 counts of child abuse. 3 counts of child neglect. Child abandonment. Domestic abuse. Attempted murder. Conspiracy to commit murder. 2 counts of negligent homicide. 10 counts of criminal negligence (more to be added). Obstruction of justice. Frame-up. Assault and Battery. Aggravated assault. Assault with a deadly weapon. Tampering with evidence. Torture. 30 counts of animal abuse. 27 counts of abuse and desecration of a corpse.
Suspected Crimes: Numerous counts of kidnapping, murder, mutilation, and human experimentation. Embezzlement. Several more cases of assault and battery. Weapons smuggling. Corporate Espionage. Forgery. Perjury. Violation of a restraining order. Impersonating an officer. DUI. Public intoxication.
Victim 1: Michael Alaric Afton
Age: 15
Case Details:
Michael Afton was discovered in his home on the evening of June 15th after neighbors requested a welfare check. One witness reported that she hadn't seen him in almost 2 weeks. Police arrived at 20:34EDT to find the front door cracked open with drops of blood on the front step. With probable cause, the two officers entered the household to find the body of 15yo Michael Afton sprawled on the ground in the foyer. Forensics found that the teen had been disemboweled and exsanguinated. However, they were not able to pin down the exact TOD. They also determined that based on the lack of blood that the body had been moved from where the actual attack had occurred. At this point Batman arrived to investigate the case and found that the victim was still (somehow) alive. Officers at the scene immediately called for EMS and began administering medical aid.
At 22:04EDT Michael Afton was transported to the Gotham Central Hospital where he was admitted to emergency surgery. Dr. Thompkins reported that surgery was successful, but the victim was in a coma due to the extent of his injuries. During x-rays, doctors also found signs of previously broken bones that had not been reported, indicative of abuse at home. These injuries included, but were not limited to: multiple cracked and broken ribs, compression fracture on left tibia, spiral fractures on the right radius and ulna, fractured mandible, broken nose, fractured left zygomatic, and a cracked hyoid.
Police were unable to get in contact with the father William Afton in the direct aftermath of the attack and contacted his godfather Henry Emily in Central City.
Case Notes:
On July 12 at 20:45EDT, Dr. Thompkins reported that Michael woke up from his coma. He had gone through several significant physical alterations (the reason of which may now be linked to experiments conducted on him by William Afton).
Oh…oh.
That was why Bruce had a file on his teammate.
Dick felt like an idiot. He should've known something was up. He was a detective for Pete's sakes. It should've been obvious. He should've seen the signs that his friend had been suffering in silence this whole time.
Hell, he'd even overheard the whispered rumors at some of the galas he'd gone to this year. Rumors that Dick didn't bother to pay any mind to because most of the time they were so off mark they'd have better luck shooting blindfolded.
His chest tightened with guilt. Biting his lip, Robin closed the tabs. Yeah, he probably should have just minded his own damn business.
-.-
Hurricane, 18:45MDT
Muddy gravel crunched underfoot as Batman stepped into the scrapyard. The normally quiet sound seeming impossibly loud as the air of the surrounding forest seemed to go dead silent the moment the Dark Knight passed the towering metal walls. Dim blue and yellow lights barely illuminated the maze of discarded shipping containers and piles of twisted metal. He wondered how many of these paths circled back on themselves.
He wondered how many people had raced down those paths in a desperate search for an escape. Only to have their hopes crushed moments later as they came back to where they had started.
It was a method that was beyond twisted.
Releasing his victim, offering the opportunity to escape all the while knowing that there was none. None except for the one the killer himself knew about. One that Afton could lock at any time he pleased with the push of a button. He would give them one last shred of hope. Amuse himself by watching them try to flee for their lives, running in circles around traps and monsters lurking in the piles of discarded animatronics and metal. Eagerly watching as his victims' hope and resolve crumble away into ash.
At least until he grew bored and decided to dispose of them.
If his victim was lucky, they would perish quickly at the hands of one of William's abominations. As terrible as it was, it was unfortunately a much, much better fate than the torture awaiting them in whatever hideout lurked nearby.
A hideout Afton was no doubt watching him from right now. No doubt waiting to strike the moment the opportunity revealed itself.
He would have to be cautious.
The Dark Knight remained on alert as he moved between the piles of junk towards the center of the yard where the main structures stood. It was most likely that the entrance to the serial killer's shelter was nestled in one of the buildings. Where it would be safe from someone accidentally stumbling upon it when moving materials to be melted down and recycled. Nor would it accidentally be flooded by water surging into the pit by flood valves.
Though he couldn't rule out the shipping containers either. There were enough piled on top of one another that hollowing them out to create a well-disguised hideaway wouldn't be out of the question. However, a hiding place like that was riskier than what Afton normally preferred. He would check there should his search in the other buildings prove to be unfruitful.
Emerging from the piles of twisted metal and old animatronics, Batman's gaze landed on a small building ahead of him. Approaching it, the vigilante frowned as he took in the entrance. Instead of a door normal door, this building had a metal gate sealing off the building. A gate that was electronically locked.
Something was definitely hidden in there.
However, before he could begin remotely hacking into the lock, the Dark Knight paused as he heard the sound of distant footsteps. Distinctly metallic footsteps.
Retreating back to the shadows, Batman crouched beside a pile of dismembered animatronics, some covered in a dark liquid that looked similar to blood. He made a note to take a sample later, but right now, he was more focused on the pair of glowing gold eyes turning the corner.
Batman would bet this was the animatronic Afton had hunting victims here, acting as a bulletproof guard dog whenever it wasn't needed to kill.
Emerging into the light, dull red metal glinted as the foxlike hound came to the edge of one of the runoff trenches. Unlike the madman's other creations, this one actually seemed to behave more animal-like. Moreso, it looked dangerous. Afton's other animatronics looked safe, some may say even downright welcoming and friendly; but this one…the other ones might as well have been plushies compared to it. Large claws on the fox's paws sunk into the mud as massive, pointed ears scanned the area for even the slightest noise to suggest the presence of an uninvited guest. A long metal tail flicked behind the creature, the dull misty lights illuminating the no doubt poison-tipped spikes covering the vertebrae-like metal casings in a way that resembled fur. As it approached the building the Dark Knight had just been at, it raised its head as if it was sniffing the air, revealing rows of sharp, bloodstained fangs.
So far, the animatronic didn't seem to notice he was there, but if this thing had a sense of smell, that wouldn't last long.
He would need to take it out before it alerted anything else lurking in the junkyard to his presence.
As the guard dog began to patrol again, Batman moved around the pile to the other side to keep behind the beast as it lumbered past where he had just been. He could hear a hitch in the creature's step as it walked. Peering around, he could see its hips jerk with each step of its left hind leg. Considering that the other patches of rust didn't seem to bother it, Bruce would bet it had been the result of a vain attempt by a previous victim who had been brave enough to fight back.
Leaping from his hiding spot, the Dark Knight threw a batarang towards the robotic canine, retreating into the shadows as the explosion knocked the guard dog into a nearby metal pile. He could hear the shifting of scraps as the animatronic rose back to its feet.
The fox pulled itself from the pile, smoke rising from its frame as its head swung back and forth, scanning for the source of the attack. A deep growl came from the robot as its tail fluffed up. Swinging its appendage, the spikes along its tail few off, sending sparks into the air as they bounced off the pieces of metal around him. One flew dangerously close, the pointed tip stabbing through a metal plate beside the Dark Knight's head. Toxic or not, those things were absolutely lethal.
Pulling out another batarang, the Batman hurled it towards a pile further away from him. The clang of metal echoing loudly over the junkyard as the projectile hit something. The approaching steps of the fox stopped, its ears pointing up as it charged forwards, moving past the vigilante without noticing his presence. There was still a hitch in the animatronic's steps as it ran towards the sound. But, other than that and a few new scorch marks, his explosive didn't seem to do much damage.
Afton had designed these things to be stupidly durable no doubt. But, if he recalled correctly, he did always make a way to stun them; just in case there was a malfunction that caused the robots to turn on him.
After all, electricity had worked for the models at the other locations. Who was to say it wouldn't work there?
Pulling out another batarang, he hurled it towards the fox. The weapon landed on its back, causing the animatronic to whirl around, spotting its target. However, before it could attack, electricity covered its frame, producing a static howl as it collapsed. Narrowing his eyes, Bruce watched as the glow of its eyes slowly powered off.
Or so it seemed.
He wouldn't put it past the inventor to program such a trap into his monsters. Keeping a wide berth, Batman pulled out his taser, firing it at the fallen robot watching electricity arch over the metal frame till he heard something pop, smoke erupting from its seams. Now more satisfied that it wasn't faking and wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon without repairs, he crouched beside the creature, taking a few samples from it. Hopefully there would be some clues as to who all had been killed by the abomination. He also took a few samples of the black sludge leaking from its chest.
Keeping an eye out for any other traps, he returned to the locked building to break inside. No matter how long it took.
-.-
19:33MDT
Batman stepped out of the elevator into the underground lab. Unlike the twisted alien-like landscape above, the secret bunker seemed impossibly clean. Save for two rooms.
Unlike the rest of the bunker, the first of these rooms was well-lit, illuminating the dried blood splattered across the room. Permanently staining the leather restraints of the almost rust-colored metal table. Mounted on the wall, was a wide array of bloodstained blades and other torture devices.
The second room was connected to the first. This one was just a concrete room with an animatronic lying limply in a corner, scorch marks scarring both it and its surroundings. No doubt this was where William came to dispose and harvest the remnant of his victims when he was finished with them.
But, at the moment, these were not the chambers he was focused on. The Dark Knight's attention was more directed towards the room filled with monitors, all displaying camera feeds from multiple different locations: Circus's Baby's, several other pizzeria locations, the Afton house, almost all of the feeds were places undergoing active investigations. William Afton had been watching the investigations. He had known exactly what they had discovered almost as soon as it happened. It was how the murderer had kept so far ahead of them.
However, those weren't the only feeds on the cameras. These two feeds seemed to be coming from the same place: a bedroom. Jaw clenching, Bruce moved the feeds to the largest screens, trying to find details giving away the location or who's room it was. His stomach dropped as he spotted a few schoolbooks and a worn plush rabbit sitting on a desk beside a desktop. This was a kid's room. Afton was already hunting another victim.
On the other feed, he spotted movement. A door began to open. But, before he could see who the target was, all the screens cut to static as a symbol of a purple rabbit flashed on the corner.
"Hello," a staticky, deep voice spoke. "Sorry about greeting, but it appears that you seem to have just missed me. I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you personally. However, as much as I would enjoy your company, I have a prior engagement to attend."
"Touch that kid Afton and I promise you'll be quadriplegic for the rest of your life."
"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine."
Bruce glared at the screens. Grabbing the keypad, the began typing quickly. He needed to triangulate the man's location now. And to do that, he had to keep him on the line. "Your plan won't work. This won't bring your family back."
"Families can be replaced. Speaking of which, how is my son? A little bird told me that he was in your little apprentice club. I trust you're keeping that boy in line. He's such a difficult child to deal with, without proper guidance of course."
He knew. Afton knew what Michael was doing. Somehow the man was still finding a way to insert himself into the kid's life. And someone was feeding him this information. Someone within the Team or the League was feeding intel to their enemies.
"Michael is none of your concern."
"He's my son," the murderer snarled. "I just want to make sure he's being properly corrected."
The Dark Knight must've struck a nerve to garner that reaction. Good. The more he pissed Afton off, the more likely the man was to make a mistake. "He's much better now that you're out of his life."
There was a sigh from the other end. "So you aren't disciplining him? Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised. Henry was always too soft to do what needed to be done. Perhaps I'll pay my boy a visit. Teach him a proper lesson."
Batman could practically hear the man's grin in his voice at those words. The man was smiling at the thought of torturing his own son. It was cases like these that truly pissed him off. Personally, he'd rather die than even think of raising a hand to his own son. So to see this man—this monster—seem to relish the idea of hurting a kid…Afton better hope that someone else found him first.
"Anyways, I should get going. You're probably getting close to figuring out where I am, and I have something to attend to. By the way, the rest of the security system should be active by now. Good luck."
Metal bent under the Dark Knight's fist as he slammed it down on the table as the static cut away to blue error screens.
-.-
Dallas, 20:42CST
William set his phone down on the table, tossing a smile to a waitress as she came over, pouring some more wine into his glass. "Thank you," he said, smirking to himself as he saw a blush cross her face. Taking a sip from his glass, he watched the city skyline, looking at the lights gleaming in the darkness. He could still feel his heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through him.
That had been exciting.
Almost being caught, he forgot the kind of rush that brought. It was almost as good as the kill.
Though he had to admit, he'd been surprised it had taken the Dark Knight so long to turn up at that particular hunting ground. Perhaps he'd been overestimating his opponent? Of course, it was better to overestimate than to underestimate. That was how he'd avoided being noticed for so long after all.
He probably would have remained unnoticed had Michael not gone and screwed everything up. Sure, the remnant experiment had gone wonderfully. His survival had proven that William was on the right track. Unfortunately, it also made the boy a liability to him. A liability he couldn't control.
Not for a lack of trying. After he got the alert from Circus Baby that the scooper had been used, William had returned to Gotham to see the results. Imagine his surprise when he had almost been killed by whatever abomination had been living inside the body upon his arrival. He hadn't been able to get any samples or run any tests. And whenever it saw him, well, he had a few new scars that said how well those encounters went.
It had just been best to assume that the results had been a failure. William had planned to return once that thing had left his son's corpse. It would've only been a matter of time considering decomposition. However, he hadn't anticipated nosy neighbors calling the police. Nor had he anticipated Michael's miraculous survival.
Not only did that news confirm his theories. But it also meant he had his first successful subject. A subject who'd unfortunately been under police protection, the watch of the most feared vigilante in the Justice League, hovered over relentlessly by his dear friend, and had a team of doctors and nurses tending to him constantly. It had been stupidly difficult to sneak into the hospital to take samples and administer a few more remnant injections.
A security guard strode through the hospital corridors passing by busy doctors and nurses. The busy medical staff occasionally glanced his way, but never longer than enough time to give him a short smile or nod of acknowledgement. It was moments like these that made the man grateful for all the crime in Gotham. People never glanced twice at a roaming security officer.
Which meant no one ever thought about his precautionary scans of the surrounding area. Grabbing the brim of his hat, he used it to block his face as he strode by another camera. Violet-colored eyes scanned the room, taking note of those in the main ICU ward. So far, most of the staff were looking after the more terminal geezers. Though, he did pause when his gaze landed on a familiar mop of disheveled strawberry blonde hair.
Henry Emily, his old business partner and friend. He was still here?
Furrowing his brow, the William Afton checked his watch. No, his timing was right. Henry should've been going back to his hotel by now. Finally worn down enough by the persistence of the doctors and nurses tending to his son to go back and take care of himself. Go back to the hotel, take a lonely shower, sleep in a cold empty bed for the night before coming back the next morning and starting the cycle all over again.
With a small chuckle to himself, William shook his head. This wasn't the time for such thoughts. He was here to visit someone else equally valuable to him. Of course, that would be difficult if he didn't figure out why the man was still here? He didn't need anyone to interrupt his visit.
"Are you sure you don't need me to get you a coffee or anything Dr. Thompkins?"
"I'll be fine Mr. Emily," the doctor who'd been treating his son replied, adjusting her glasses. "As much as I appreciate the offer, don't think I can't tell you're trying to avoid going to get some rest. Even Michael is getting worried."
So, his boy had finally woken up? Well, that explained why his dear friend was fretting more than usual. Henry always did tend to fuss when someone he cared about was hurt.
"I know, but…I'm just worried something will happen. Mikey could slip back into a coma, or worse."
Dr. Thompkins reached out, putting her hand on the man's shoulder, "Don't worry. He's already doing much better than we anticipated. I highly doubt anything will change in the next few hours. So, please, go get some rest. Michael needs you here at one-hundred percent. I promise, we'll call you if there's any change."
William tuned out the rest of the conversation. This could either be very beneficial or detrimental to his tests. He'd already been pushing his luck just coming in for short visits. And, with the almost constant monitoring of the physicians and police over his son, he hadn't been able to collect any samples. Sure, he'd gotten a lucky hair sample and had been able to document the boy's progress. But, otherwise he simply just couldn't risk it.
Now that Mike was awake though, and since he technically hadn't made any attempts on his son's life, William would bet that the constant watch on his son would've relaxed. Perhaps long enough for him to run a few tests, alongside some father-son bonding time.
Quickly checking that no one was watching, William opened the door and slid inside his son's room, quietly shutting it behind him. Turning around, William removed his cap, running his fingers through his dark brunette hair as he regarded the boy.
It was interesting. None of his other subjects had produced such results. The closest he would say would be the change in behavior some of the animatronics would momentarily experience after making their first kill. Of course, that was likely just the containment protocols activating. But still, what made Michael, his eldest and firstborn, so different from all the others? Even his own siblings? Why did he survive when they didn't? Was it the remnant injections? Or was it something else?
He would've loved to take his son and figure out why these changes occurred. See how these differences allowed him to survive injuries that were supposed to kill him.
Alas, it currently was too difficult to snatch his son away from Henry's influence. Too many witnesses and cameras. Not to mention the Dark Knight's recent interest in his activities. Almost relentlessly sticking his nose where it didn't belong. He'd flown under the Batman's radar for over a decade, but, as usual, Michael had to go and ruin his plans. Almost as soon as the boy had been found, the vigilante had been getting too close for comfort.
Of course, not close enough to make him think twice about coming to see his son. As far as the investigations went right now, all they were working with was that he was that he "abandoned" his son. It wasn't enough to search for him once he left the state.
It was a pity. With Michael so weak it would've been so easy to take him. And by the time he could regain some strength, William would've been able to block any escape route and have materials ready to restrain him, physically and chemically of course. It would be so easy to drug the fight out of him, to make Michael completely and totally reliant on his father. But it was too risky right now.
The form on the bed shifted, causing William to sigh as he pulled out a pouch from his pocket.
"Uncle Henry? I thought you…" the teen sat up, his glowing blue-violet eyes staring at him in shock. "D—Dad?"
Taking his opportunity, William shot forwards, pressing a hand over his son's nose and mouth to stifle startled shouts. "Shh, we don't want to cause a scene now, do we?" he whispered, pulling out a syringe and plugging it into the boy's IV port. William smirked, pressing harder against his son's face as the boy attempted to struggle against him. He watched as the drug drained into his brachial artery.
Slowly, Michael's struggles grew weaker, eyelids slowly drooping as his pupils dilated, unable to focus on anything around him. A weak sound escaped the teen's throat as his father removed his hand, allowing the boy to breathe.
"There we go," he hushed, running his fingers through his boy's hair as he sat on the edge of the bed, "I bet that feels much better." Opening the little bag fully, William looked over the selection of tubes, syringes, and scalpels. Picking up a syringe, he flicked the end of the needle, "You don't need to worry about anything right now, Daddy's here." Sticking the new injection into the port, he pushed the muscle relaxant into the boy.
Setting the empty syringes aside, William looked down, cupping his son's face, watching as his head slowly sagged into his palm. The pad of his thumb ran along the boy' cheek, trailing a pale scar that hadn't been there before. He wondered where he got it.
He wondered if he had more of those.
His son whimpered pathetically as his hands tugged on the collar of his hospital gown. Tears leaking from the boy's eyes as the ties holding it closed slipped open, letting William view the array of pale scars marring the teen's abdomen. The injuries were consistent with those his previous victims had gotten from the scooper. But, unlike them, Michael seemed to have healed.
"Shh," he soothed, plucking a scalpel from the bag, "shh, it's ok." Stroking his son's cheek, William twirled the blade between his fingers before placing the edge of the surgical instrument against the boy's chest. "It's ok." Michael gave another soft whine, the muscles of his face attempting to screw his eyes shut as the blade scraped against the unscarred skin. Small droplets of blood welled up where he carved out his sample as he pulled the piece of skin away to stick it in a test tube. Sealing it shut, he cleaned the blade before placing it over a section of scarred flesh. William leaned forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his son's forehead, "That's it. You're doing so good."
Repeating the process, William did his best to keep his son quiet. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy hearing the boy whimper in pain. Actually, William didn't mind seeing his son's confused tears. He had always loved making his eldest cry. Especially as he got older, because he tried so hard to hold back his weakness. It was quite amusing to see the normally stubborn and defiant child wake up weak, disoriented, and in pain, completely unable to fight against him, completely at his mercy. But, unfortunately, right now he couldn't afford even a drop of spilt blood. It could give away his visits. So, right now, he needed to maintain Michael's compliance by keeping him nice and relaxed.
"Good boy," he praised, kissing the crown of the boy's head as he used an alcohol swab to disinfect the wound. "You're doing wonderfully." Tying the gown closed, William set the scalpel and his skin samples aside as he grabbed another syringe, this one connected to an empty vial. Michael gave a pathetic noise in an attempt to protest, as his father hefted him up, setting him against his chest. William stuck the end of the needle just a few inches below the teen's jaw. "Stay still, it's ok. I know it hurts. But," he began extracting blood, watching it spurt into the tube, "it will be over soon."
Finishing his first tube, William glanced to the door. He was starting to push his luck. Sealing the sample, he pulled out another vial, attaching it to the syringe before releasing pressure, allowing the scarlet liquid to squirt inside the glass.
"See how easy this is when you don't fight me? When you listen?" he spoke, gently setting his chin on the undoubtedly woozy boy's head. "This is much better, isn't it? Not forcing me to hurt you?"
Michael, too drugged up to answer properly, made a small noise his head rolling to rest against his father's chest. The boy's pupils were blown wide, creating a thin ring of color as he stared at his father with unbridled love bleeding through the pain and confusion. Even after all of this, Michael still was perfectly loyal.
Chuckling, William pulled the needle out, watching the injection site to see if any bleeding occurred. "I wish you could always be like this: so behaved, obedient," he mused, grabbing another injection flicking the end of the needle, "You're such a good son like this. Alas, nothing good ever lasts. You aren't going to remember this, just like the last few times. And you won't remember next time either." He leaned forwards, pressing his lips against his son's forehead, soft hairs tickling his nose as he continued to whisper, "But, know that I am the only one who will ever love you. You belong to me."
With a final fatherly kiss, William pressed the needle back into his neck, slowly draining its contents into the teen's bloodstream. Once he finished, William leaned back against the wall, holding his son close, occasionally running his hand up and down the boy's arm. The remnant-mixed sedative didn't take long to take effect in conjunction with the other drugs in his small body. Michael's eyelids continued to droop, his limp form sagging against William as the substance ran its course, the periods between his eyes opening getting longer and longer. Soon after, Michael's eyes closed, his breathing and heartrate slowly falling into the rhythmic pattern of someone in clutches of a deep, peaceful slumber.
"Sweet dreams baby boy. Sweet dreams."
William smiled fondly at the memory. He'd almost been caught that time too.
Honestly, that boy was probably going to be the death of him. Especially considering now without his guidance Michael had no doubt become more obstinate than ever.
All that work, molding the boy into his perfect copy, down the drain. All because Henry and no doubt the League were too cowardly to teach his son properly. The boy was as stubborn as himself, the teen needed a firm hand to keep him in line. Michael had very rarely defied him outright when William had been in charge. And, any time he had, the man had made sure that he got the message to never do it again.
It had done wonders for his behavior.
At least until he'd gone to live under Henry's roof.
"David," a voice greeted. Turning his head, William stood up, shaking the hand of the man standing in front of him, "It's good to see you again, old friend."
"Likewise, Lex," he replied. Motioning to the table, the two men sat down. "Tell me, how is that little project of yours going? I heard about the incident in Louisiana."
"Everything is going right on track. In fact, that's what I'm here to talk to you about. How would you feel about coming out of the shadows, and into the Light?"
