Thanks for the feedback! This chapter is a little silly but still gives some goodness you'll enjoy (I hope).
A year ago, if someone told him that he would be forced into another tank filled with kryptonite laced water, he would have laughed in their face. Like hell he'd let that happen, right? Wrong. He didn't have much choice in the matter since Garner and his associates possessed the only thing that broke his ability to stop them. Each time was like the last; they stripped and secured him to the cold, metal table then lowered him into his acid. Garner would ask questions to penetrate his mind, pilfering his memories until he was satisfied. Garner didn't care about birthdays or Christmases; he didn't want to know Clark's joys and pitfalls. He wanted answers that could only be found in the deep recesses of the brain.
After the 'treatments', as Garner referred to them, he was allowed to shower quickly, but without soap. The kryptonite water was more like a gel, making it difficult to scrub off. He was too weak to stay standing so he sat on the grimy cement floor until the cold water shut off and a towel was thrown in his face. By the time he was taken back in his room, he was physically and mentally exhausted so he slept for the remainder of the evening until he woke hour's later, feeling re-energized with his returned strength and abilities.
There was a large digital clock on the wall, away from his reach, showing the time. He knew it was put there to purposely drive him insane. It's huge, grandpa sized numbers blinking at him over and over again, 10:34 p.m. Blink. 10:34 p.m. Blink. 10:35 p.m. Blink. He finally looked away, for his own sanity, and did the math to determine how long he'd have to wait until they came and took him again. Nine hours, give or take. What was he going to do for nine hours?
Six hours later, he began to wonder if it was possible to die from boredom. He had done just about everything he could think of to keep his body and mind busy and working. He paced, did jumping jacks, push ups, sit ups, ran in place, rearranged the furniture, measured the room using his foot as a ruler, and as the mind numbing boredom took over, he played hopscotch with imaginary boxes. It was one of those times he damned his constant energy but thanked his extraordinary memory. He could recount entire movies, books and television shows with ease, so he did.
Then, his inner twelve year old boy came out and, as if Pete was in the room double dog daring him to do it, he decided he would see how close he could get to the walls without them activating. Under normal circumstances he would have listened to the voice telling him what kryptonite felt like and what a stupid, stupid idea it was, but this wasn't normally circumstances. He told himself it would be good information to have for future reference. Sure. Plus, if he moved away quick enough they walls would close up, wouldn't they?
There wasn't a line near the walls like the door, so he stood in the center of the room, facing one of them and began taking small, baby steps towards it. Four feet. Three feet. Three and a half. Three and one fourth. Two. Two was all it took; not only did the panels begin to rise but an ear piercing siren began to blare, seemingly right next to his ear. He clutched his ears and stumbled forward. In his plan, he was supposed to move away from the walls, but the shrieking in his head disoriented him so much that he couldn't see straight. It felt like a fire engine siren was inches away, pointed directly at him, screaming at full blast. His legs gave out and his back hit the kryptonite wall and he slid down, causing him to scream out in pain from the unbelievable burning.
Moments later, the door flew open and Dr. Garner, dressed in pajamas and a robe, came in followed by two men. The men grabbed Clark's arms and pulled him into safety and Garner clicked a button on a small remote device he held. The sirens stopped but the walls remained open. Garner walked up to Clark, who was still grimacing from the kryptonite, "Damn it Clark! Did I not warn you about the walls?" he only received a glare mixed with anger and pain in return. "I'm not stupid, you know. I knew you'd try something like this, that's why I installed a siren, so I'd be able to stop you from killing yourself." Seeing that Clark wanted to say something but couldn't, he pressed a button and the walls closed.
Still in the grips of the strong men, he panted out, "I wasn't… trying to kill… myself."
Garner sighed and rubbed his face, his fatigue and frustration flickered momentarily only to be quickly banished with a callous look that cut Clark to the core. This man didn't have an ounce of care or concern for him. Garner stepped closer and squatted next to Clark and spoke in a chilling voice, "Now that you've gotten me up, we might as well begin today's treatments. With all this time we may be able to make double the progress. What do you say, Clark?"
Clark didn't respond, trying to harden his expression so Garner couldn't see the anxiety his words struck in him. He hated feeling so helpless and scared. That wasn't the type of person he was, at least not normally.
Dr. Garner laughed and punched Clark hard in the shoulder, in almost a brotherly way, then he stood up, "Bring him." The men obeyed and dragged Clark between them as they followed him out of the room.