Chapter 34:

"When Even Stranger Things Happen"

Slade pushed Dr. Hugo Strange forward, then his arm was grabbed. The psychotic villain was not only blindfolded but handcuffed with his arms out in front. They walked down a long corridor in a secret location that echoed in Strange's ears as their footwear hit the floor. Pixie followed. They had broken Strange out of Arkham Asylum to bring him here at someone's behest, he was told.

"Am I a prisoner?" Strange demanded, being lead with an arm by Slade. He may have been blind, but he felt the strong grip of the man around his arm, and every once in a while, it would tighten like a vice.
Slade didn't answer him at first, but when they reached the end of the long corridor and there was the sound of a door opening at its end, he then said, "No, but your response going forward will determine your continued status."

"What is this place? Tell me where I am!" Hugo was pushed forward. He stumbled slightly through a doorway, his arm brushing the threshold. He could smell recirculated air and his voice reverberated from the emptiness of the place. He may have been blind, but he could smell people in this place and more than just Slade and Pixie. There were others. "When your charade at Arkham Asylum is finally discovered, they'll check the surveillance systems and a manhunt will ensure for me."

He felt a slap across the back of his bald head. Hugo flinched. "Shut up!" Pixie told him.

He was held to stand still, as if waiting for something. Then a voice spoke: "Good evening, Doctor." It was artificial, as if sent through an electronic scrambler. "Thank you for coming."

"I didn't have much of a choice. Who are you?"

The blindfold was literally ripped off him and Strange blinked a few times to focus on the dim lighting in the boxed room. He felt something on the right side of his temple, like a small electronic device, but he didn't try to remove it.

When his vision cleared, for the most part, he saw that a thin gentleman wearing dark clothing stood next to a younger man wearing a dark suit and red tie. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and from the looks of it, the younger man was strapped in with a waist belt to prevent him from slipping out and his hands were inserted into loose loops on the wheelchair arms. But, the strangest thing was, their faces were distorted, as if purposely pixelated to hide their identities—like it was part of a video no one wanted seen.

It was bizarre to say the least. The device that was stuck to his temple must be interacting with a part of his right hemisphere that dealt with facial recognition. He knew the left hemisphere dealt with general object recognition, so that's why he was able to see everything else without restriction. However, only these two individual's faces were distorted—not Slade or Pixie's.

"Interesting technology, but there is a hint of youth in your voice, sir," Hugo said to the person in the wheelchair. He noticed the young man was wearing a watch, a very expensive watch, and his clothes and shoes were also of high society.

"Very good, your ears are acute," the young man replied pedantically.

"Thank you. My last lover did mention that I have cute ears." Hugo chuckled. No one else laughed. "So, boy, why am I here?"

The young man appeared to look at the taller man, who stood erect and proper, as if a servant. Hugo immediately pegged him as some sort of butler-type. This gave purchase to his idea that he was in the presence of someone with elitist wealth.

The young man looked back to Hugo. "To fix me, for lack of a better term," he replied. "And I know you have the knowledge to do so." Hugo waited. The young man continued, "I've been afflicted with an unusual neuropathy. Basically, complete paralysis below the neck caused by my own foolishness. It's not permanent, from what I am told, but recovery is slower than I wish. It is my understanding that you know a great deal about the human nervous system along with human psycho-analyses, Doctor."

"You went through to all this trouble in breaking me out of Arkham instead of seeing a neurosurgeon—in hiring a mercenary" —he indicated Slade/Deathstroke— "for this? Why all the cloak and dagger? Why can't I see your faces? Why disguise your voice?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want you knowing who I am."

"You need a specialist, not me," Hugo said. "I specialize in Abnormal Psychology, although I did minor in Neuropathy."

"And that is precisely why you are here. You are the best man for the job to my understanding. I could ask others, but there would be too many questions. And a person in my position doesn't need my condition advertised to the public."

"If I help you, what's in it for me? I'm a wanted man and thanks to Bonnie and Clyde here, money in the form of compensation won't do me any good if I have to keep looking over my shoulder."

"The price for your help will be your freedom and a complete absolve of your crimes."

Hugo laughed. "Completely absolved? You mean my criminal record would be expunged? That's impossible! Batman would never accept that even if the highest court in the land authorized it. Batman will appeal and I don't mean lawfully. There is no way you have that much power—you would need to control society has a whole to do that."

"It can be done, I assure you. That is my offer. Leave all the details to me and my associates. What is your answer?"

Hugo eyed the unknown young man contentiously. "I don't know if you're telling me the truth or a bold face lie, I can't see your face." Hugo Strange knew if a person lied, their pupils dilated and some people had uncontrollable ticks to indicate deception. He looked at the young man's body, there were no signs. Of course, if he was really paralyzed then there would no body movement to notice. There was no indication from his servant either, who, at the moment, stood proper with his arms folded behind his back, elbows out.

"I can see your mind working, Doctor," the young man said, "enough guessing on my possible identity. If I wanted you to know who I was, I wouldn't go through this trouble in hiding myself. What is your answer? Will you help me or not?"

"Need I reminder you again that I specialize in Abnormal Psychology, Neuropathy in the Sciences is my minor. If, and only if, I could help you, I would need to see medical scans of the area to make even the basic of guesses for a course of action."

The dapper servant reached behind the wheelchair and pulled out a brown envelope and gave it to Hugo Strange. Strange looked at it oddly and then opened it, pulling out a couple of MRI plastic sheets. He was handcuffed, but could still move his hands. They showed the areas of interest in great detail when he looked at them in the light. He nodded, as if he knew what he was looking at.

"Ah, yes—the Occipital Nerve is pinched in such a way that without direct intervention it can't heal itself," Hugo explained.

He then went on in great detail what the occipital nerve entailed and how its function was vitally important to the overall health of the nervous system—sending bio-chemical signals throughout the body, a conduit in which to speak to the body and brain, and tell it what to do and how to do it. This went only for several minutes until Slade slapped Hugo on the shoulder to shut up.

Hugo liked to toot his own horn, like a prideful peacock when the opportunity arose. He knew this better than anyone. It had been a long time, but obviously he knew a lot more about the human nervous system than he thought. The dapper servant explained what had been done to try to rectify the issue. It had worked for a time, and some feeling had returned, but it was only temporary.

Hugo said, "Massage and chiropractic therapy is all well and good, mainstream medicine doesn't support it as a reputable and cost effective way for nerve damage—I beg to differ, it helps—but those measures will only alleviate pain and pressure for a short time, and anything, even the slightly jerk, will throw things back out of alignment unless the core issue is addressed."

The dapper servant then reached into his pocket, brought something out, and held in an open hand. In it was a device that looked like something a woman would put in her purse to use as a deterrent against an attacker—a shock device or taser. It wasn't very big. "This device is called a Neuro-Diffuser," the man said. "It was used on my mas—the young man, which caused his injuries."

Hugo adjusted his glasses with a finger to get a better look at it when it was brought closer. Slade poked Hugo in the ribs with a gun and told him not to get any funny ideas. Hugo asked what was its function and how had it been applied to the young man?

"To the base of my neck, near the stated nerve," the young man answered. "It was taken apart, and we learned it has a reverse shock setting to help stimulate and restore nerve function. However, as the nerve in a very delicate spot, an expert was needed for application, as it can also cause death if used inappropriately. If this device was taken to anyone else, they would refuse to use it. This is where you come into the picture, Dr. Strange. My offer remains firm, take it or leave it."

"Do you know how to administer proper treatment, Doctor?" the dapper servant asked, slightly concerned. The young man seemed to looked up at the other, the turn of his head despite distorted revealed reservations by an overprotected servant.

It didn't slip Hugo's notice that the dapper servant had stopped short of calling the young man "master". Those in servitude like that of a butler would use that term out of respect and proper standing in society. He took a few factors into consideration and the pieces were beginning to fall into place. He may have been blindfolded, but the distance between Arkham during the car ride here seemed right according to his calculations. But he would put what he thought in that regard aside for the time being.

Hugo nodded. "I can help, but you'll need to take the handcuffs off. I promise and I give you my word I won't do anything stupid. I'm actually quite curious if I can perform a miracle and actually heal the sick and the lame." And he laughed.

Slade gave the dapper servant a glance, received something like an acknowledgment. It was obviously Slade could see the identity of these two, and unlocked the cuffs with a key. Hugo rubbed his wrists, gave back the MRI sheets, and asked for the device. Slade followed him the entire path he took to behind the wheelchair.

Hugo observed the back of the young man's head. He had dark, somewhat longer hair—as if he had not had a hair cut in months. His face may have been distorted by a strange technology, but not the back of him. He had very think hair, which caused a little jealousy. When Hugo was in his youth, he had very nice looking hair until an aggressive form of alopecia set in, and not just on his head, but all over his body—he was naked as a jailbird under his clothes without an ounce of hair anywhere.

"Forgive me for me touching you, young man, but I need to know how much of your muscle tone has atrophied. It will determine the length of time that will be needed for the Neuro-Diffuser to work efficiently." Hugo applied pressure to the back and sides of the young man's neck area, pressing hard through the dark dress shirt he had on to determine a status. "Incredible! Your muscle tone is quite remarkable. Very muscular and taunt. I was expecting a scrawny teenager. May I ask about your exercise regimen?"

"No, now get on with it," the young man spoke staunchly.

"No need to be so testy. I know someone else with the same testiness, very impatient. You wouldn't believe some people these days; never stopping to smell the roses." Hugo saw the mean look on Slade's face and shut up. He continued to feel around in silence, until suddenly the young man flinched and gasped. "Felt that?" The young man said Yes. "I pushed in one of the upper vertebrae in the dorsal spine, or Thoracic spinal column, and released the pinched nerve. But it won't stay released for long."

"Can you fix the damage?"

"Yes, but I'm shocked, absolutely shocked, that a device like this can do this much damage." He tried to sound humorous, but no one laughed. He asked who built it. He was told it was weaponized, but it had originally been designed by a medical professional to help patients with neurological disorders, they were told. "Inventive, non-lethal, and effective," Hugo said admirably. "At the risk of sounding creepy, if someone could, remove the young man's shirt. I must have an unobstructed view of the area to administer proper treatment."

Hugo stepped back as the dapper servant helped the younger man unbutton his shirt and remove his tie, then his shirt was pushed back and his naked neck was exposed. With the Neuro-Diffuser in hand, Hugo asked to proceed. He explained what he was going to do, and at what level of intensity, then positioned the device over the exact spot.

Once ready, he depressed the button on the device.

The young man flinched and his body jerked, as if suddenly subjected to a violent shock—which it was. His fists clenched the arms of the chair for a moment and then relaxed. His head slumped down.

Slade pushed Hugo away.

The dapper servant went to the young man's side and asked if he was okay. The young man took a moment and then said Yes. He began to clench his hands into fists and said that he could wiggle his toes again. And that he couldn't wait until the catheter was removed so he could use the bathroom by himself once again.

"The things people take for granted, eh?" he expressed with a happy note.

"Because of his physique, his muscles did not go into severe atrophy, but it may take a few hours until his nerves begin to restore to their normal function," Hugo explained. "Once you begin to feel it, due to the damage, you'll feel a burning sensation; that's normal."

"I'm already beginning to feel it," the young man expressed. "It feels like my entire body is on fire at the moment."

"There's no way you should feel it this soon. What are you—a meta-human?"

The young man laughed. "No, just a quick healer," he said. "And if I was, I wouldn't need your help, Doctor. Thank you."

Slade snatched the Neuro-Diffuser from Strange and then grabbed him by his shirt, violently gripping it and holding him close. Slade pointed the gun he had at Hugo and Strange put his arms in the air. "Wait—what about our deal?" Suddenly Hugo grinned innately and head butt Slade in the face. Slade staggered back. Hugo went to the young man and suddenly grabbed the back of his neck, pinching the occipital nerve tightly, and literally shocking the young man into a frozen statuesque state.

"Wait, Doctor," the dapper servant pleaded. "What are you doing?"

"Oh please, you didn't really think I believed you could expunge my criminal record, did you? I'm not stupid!"

Slade growled, exhibiting teeth, blood dripping down his mouth from his bloody nose. He spit out blood. He aimed the gun at Hugo's face. "If you hurt him, Strange, I won't hesitate to kill you!"

Hugo eyed him with incredulity. "I'm a little surprised. What are you his protector now? You're a hired killer, Slade Wilson. Or have you forgotten that? But never mind that. Don't make a move or you'll cause this young man to experience complete tetraplegia for the rest of his natural life, and you'll be the cause. Could you live with that? I swear, I'll do it! You know I can."

To be continued...