I teetered on the edge of consciousness, trapped in a whirlpool of pain and darkness. Through the murky haze, Dr. Langley's voice cut through the dimness.
"Got the file on our subject from Investigations. Time to dig into the gritty details."
The soft rustling of paper reached my ears as they delved into the file.
"Huh, no address? Legal's slipping."
"Must've been one of the informant's requests," Dr. Stirling chimed in. "Hang on, I found something interesting. Take a look at this cutout article. 'A mysterious death—man scorched alive in a freak accident.' Poor chap."
The words drifted and swirled in my mind like elusive ghosts, dancing just out of my reach. Slowly, the realization of their meaning began to dawn on me.
Dr. Langley's voice merged with my tumultuous thoughts. "Wait... the informant mentioned his nascent pyrotechnic vision, and if that holds true, then..."
Their voices grew distant, fading in and out like fleeting whispers.
"Could it be... Could it be the kid's old man?"
Dread coiled around my heart, tightening like a vice. I was thrust into a heightened state of awareness, suffocating under the unbearable weight of sheer horror. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat reverberating like a thunderous drum.
"That's ghastly... If that's the case, then..."
The weight of their speculations descended upon me, squeezing the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath that seemed impossible to take. I strained against the invisible restraints, desperately willing my eyes to open, yet they remained stubbornly shut.
"We need to confirm... Can't ignore the potential…"
I couldn't bear to listen any longer, their words hammered against the fragile walls of my shattered mind, cracking the remnants of my sanity. Every thought, every memory, every shred of my being screamed in protest at the realization of what I had done. Regret seeped into every fiber of my being, drenching me in an overwhelming sense of shame.
The world whirled around me, a dizzying vortex of shattered pieces falling into place with a sickening click. Images of my mother's face flashed before my closed eyes, a haunting mix of love and fear on her features. How could she bear to face me, to look into my eyes after what I had done. I was a walking nightmare, a monster, plain and simple. She should have rid herself of me when she had the chance. But instead, she endured, paying the price with a lifetime of pain.
The weight of my actions bore down, crushing me beneath its unrelenting force. No words could capture the depths of my despair. It threatened to reduce me to dust, leaving me hollow, beyond repair. Anger bubbled up within me, and I cursed the wretched powers coursing through my veins, condemning me to my own personal hell.
Hovering on the precipice of oblivion, the tendrils of that unyielding dread tightened their grip, ensnaring me in a web of my own making. There was no turning back, no escape from the consequences of my actions. I surrendered to the abyss, my silent screams trapped within my paralyzed body. I embraced the darkness, for deep down, I knew that I deserved nothing less.
As I gradually regained consciousness, a sense of emptiness and numbness washed over me, leaving an aching void where my heart should have been.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Dr. Langley's voice sliced through the fog of my thoughts, jolting me from my groggy state. "You've certainly given us quite a scare. And a word of caution, if you get handsy with that collar, the security mechanism will zap you with double the dose. It will put you out like a light."
With a casual gesture, he placed a can of soda into my shackled hand. "Here, take this."
Thirst parched my throat, and my tongue instinctively darted over my chapped lips. Annoyance pricked at me. How was I supposed to drink when my hand was bound to this infernal table? Dr. Langley's little tests were really starting to get on my last nerve.
"Crush it," he ordered.
Really? Crush this, crush that – were they serious? I had half a mind to show him what I could really crush. Starting with that smug face of his. Trapped here like a lab rat, and now they wanted me to perform circus tricks on command?
"I just want to go home," I declared flatly.
"Sorry, but you'll have to put in a bit more effort if you want your freedom," the doctor shot back, leaning against a nearby console. "The alternative isn't exactly a picnic, I assure you."
Frustration boiled in me, but I took a deep breath, weighing my options. The collar's intensity had eased, a calculated mercy for this little sideshow. The can sat in my palm, its flimsy aluminum surface cool against my skin. It felt fragile. Like a simple flex would crumple it into a twisted metal ball. Heck, at this level I was pretty sure I could snap these restraints like they were wet paper. Tempting as it was, the collar held the threat of agony if I dared to cross their invisible boundaries. A risk I wasn't quite ready to take. Not yet.
If playing along with their ridiculous tests was the ticket out of this prison, then fine. I'd play their game. A show of effort, that's all I needed. A skill I'd honed long ago, a lifetime of pretending I wasn't different. I pressed my hand against the can. My jaw clenched, my expression a mask of feigned struggle. Langley's gaze bore into me, skeptical and probing.
"See?" I muttered, my voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "Just your average Joe here. Miracles are off the menu, sorry to disappoint."
The doctor's expression darkened. He let out a frustrated sigh, the lines on his forehead deepening. "Oh, kid, if only you had been a tad more cooperative..." The air turned heavy with a sense of foreboding.
With a flick of a switch, he cranked up the collar's power, sending a searing wave of pain coursing through my body. I clenched my teeth, fighting against the agony that clawed at my muscles.
Through the glass door, he motioned for a stout man to enter the room. The assistant's eyes darted nervously, as if unsure of his place in this twisted experiment. "Gary, lend me a hand with the table," Langley called out urgently. The assistant nodded, his movements brisk and efficient as he adjusted the metal platform that held me captive.
With a metallic click, the wheels unlocked, and Gary maneuvered the bed through the labyrinthine corridors of the facility, Dr. Langley close on his heels. Along the way, glass-walled rooms revealed glimpses of scientists clad in their white lab coats, engrossed in their own arcane experiments.
I strained to use my X-ray vision, desperate for a glimpse of the outside world, a sign of escape from this claustrophobic nightmare. But the damn necklace thwarted my efforts, rendering my powers useless.
As we made our way through the corridors, my attention was momentarily diverted by the name tag dangling from the aid guy's shirt. "S.T.A.R. LABS, GARY BROOKFIELD."
Star Labs? Hazy fragments of memories stirred in my mind. Helena. She had mentioned that place before. A surge of apprehension washed over me, tightening the knot in my gut.
The endless corridors eventually led us to a chamber that resembled a fortified arena, its walls towering above me. The steel surfaces exuded an oppressive aura, its one-sided mirrors hinting at an audience beyond.
With mechanical precision, the scientist and his lackey positioned my metal bed at the center of the room. They adjusted it, angling it slightly, as if setting the stage for some twisted show.
Dr. Langley pushed his glasses up his nose, exchanging a knowing glance with his assistant before turning his attention to me. There was a flicker of pity in his gaze, quickly swallowed by an impenetrable darkness. "Good luck, kid," he muttered, "Oh, and I wouldn't advise attempting any grand escapes unless you fancy a taste of that knockout punch." With that final word of caution, they left me there, their parting words lingering in the air like an ominous warning.
As the heavy door closed shut, an eerie stillness settled upon the chamber, interrupted only by the soft hum of the ventilation system.
I groaned, my head still throbbing from the collar's assault. The pain began to recede, granting me a fleeting respite to collect my scattered senses. The restraints on the metal bed swung open with a loud clank, and I clumsily tumbled to the floor, trying to break my fall with weakened limbs.
Struggling to find my balance, I felt a glimmer of strength returning to my weary body. At least I was no longer bound to that wretched bed.
With unsteady steps, I surveyed the circular arena, my eyes darting from one possible exit to another. The doc's words echoed in my mind, warning me against the foolish notion of escape, but I couldn't ignore this slender thread of opportunity.
A plan began to form in my brain. If I could muster up some last ounces of strength, perhaps I could crash through that steel door and the fortress-like walls beyond. It would be a race against time, a reckless dash for freedom before they could intervene.
But just as I started mapping out my escape, that cursed door hissed open. And there, filling the threshold, stood a mountain of a man clad in a collar of his own. He was a behemoth, easily towering over 6.5 feet tall, with muscles bulging like they were ready to burst through his skin. One look at him, and it felt like he could snap me in half without breaking a sweat. And let me tell you, I don't break easily.
His presence was overwhelming, each step he took resonating with an unnerving power that seemed to shake the very ground beneath me. The sight of him alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine.
His face was obscured by an intricate mask, its patterns twisting and writhing like something straight out of a fever dream. Only his piercing eyes were visible, boring into my soul like I was on trial for all my sins. Tubes and valves snaked across the surface of the mask, connecting to some mysterious device at the back of his head.
Trust me when I say that there are few things in this world that have the power to make me flinch. Well, except maybe my own monstrous self. But in my weakened state, fear managed to slither its way into the depths of my heart. Funny how things can flip around. Here I was on the other side of the equation.
"Hah! So, you are the big menace they warned me about?" The man's laughter boomed through the chamber. "Pathetic," he jeered, sizing me up with a dismissive glance.
I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Taking crap from people had become second nature to me, courtesy of Jake's special brand of parenting.
He closed in on me, his colossal figure casting a long shadow across the cold, metal floor. The smug grin on his face only fueled the fire burning within me. "Well, let's see what you're made of," he growled, lunging at me without warning.
His massive hand clamps onto my shoulder, and with a swift, powerful motion, he flings me across the room like a discarded toy. I soar through the air, the world spinning around me in a dizzying blur. I hit the wall with a resounding thud, the impact rattling my bones.
The wall fared no better, denting and cracking under the tremendous force. Wires and luminary equipment sputter and spark, casting a mesmerizing shower of shimmering light. The pain registers, a dull ache that I quickly suppress. I had felt worse. Hell, I had caused worse. But now, I had to play the waiting game, hold back, and protect my secret from the hidden audience behind the mirrors.
Struggling to regain my footing, I push myself up from the debris-covered floor. The man closes the distance between us with a menacing stride. His eyes narrow, a twisted grin on his face. "Look at you, tough guy," he sneers, "You shouldn't even be able to stand after a hit like that."
Unfazed by my silence, he aims a thunderous punch at my face. But I have quick reflexes. I move my head in the nick of time, the force of his blow colliding with the stone wall. The impact sent cracks racing through the wall, like a spider's masterpiece. He recoils, shaking his hand in pain. Anger contorts his face, his roars of frustration filling the air. "You little worm!" he snarls, "I'll make you regret this!"
With a subtle burst of speed, I evade his lunging grasp, causing him to crash against the chamber wall. Dust and debris rain down upon him as he staggers, disoriented and enraged.
"Seems like you've hit a wall," I quip, a hint of dark humor lacing my words. "Perhaps you should pick on someone your own size."
With a primal roar, he follows up with a devastating kick that sends me sprawling several meters away. My body rolls along the cold floor, every muscle screaming in protest. Every fiber of my being yearns to fight back. But I have to play the "weak card," So, I bite back my rage and stay on the floor, motionless.
"Are you just gonna keep yapping, or are you actually gonna try to fight?" he taunts, his voice filled with sadistic delight.
He strides over to me, his towering figure casting a shadow that engulfs my battered form. His grip tightens around my neck like a vise, effortlessly lifting me from the floor. Then, with a swift, forceful push, his hands slam against my chest. The impact reverberates through my body, threatening to shatter the fragile facade of weakness I maintain. Yet, I indulge him, staggering backward as if his punch had knocked the wind out of me. I had to give it to him; the dude had one mean punch, but I wasn't about to let him know that.
In relentless succession, he unleashes a barrage of punches, each strike hammering into me with bone-shaking force. The collar's diminished intensity shields me from the worst of the pain. Each blow vibrates through my body, but I hold firm. Bone meets flesh with a sickening sound, echoing through the chamber.
"Such a menace, yet you crumble like a weakling," he jeers, "Is this the best you've got, pretty boy?"
The man's grin widens, relishing in the perceived victory. He thinks he has broken me. But inside, a different fire burns hotter than ever. Anger simmers beneath my calm facade, but the teachings of the Bat keep me in check. I couldn't let the beast inside take control.
"You're nothing," he spits, his voice dripping with disdain. "Just a weakling with powers you can't control." Oh, he really wanted to hit me where it hurt. Did he go through my file too? I'd be shocked if he even knew how to read. He's just a puppet, parroting lines written by someone pulling the strings behind the scenes.
With a ferocious tackle, he brings me crashing to the ground. His fists rain down upon me, each blow crashing like thunder. Instinctively, I raise my forearms to shield my face from the relentless onslaught.
"I heard what you did to your daddy," he snarls, his voice slicing through the chaos. "Such a shame." The corner of his mouth curls into a cruel smirk.
His words land like a lit match on the tinder of my anger, igniting a fire deep within me. Heat surges behind my eyes, a scorching intensity that could melt steel. All I want in that moment is to reduce this faceless behemoth to a pile of smoldering ashes.
"You fucking piece of trash," I hiss, my voice laced with barely contained rage.
Reacting on pure instinct, I block his next blow with my hand, as if it were a mere annoyance. Our forces collide, my open palm meeting his knuckles with a satisfying crunch. I tighten my grip, feeling the bones in his fingers crack like dry twigs. Surprise flashes across his face, and for a brief moment doubt flickers in his eyes.
Pinned beneath his hulking weight, I forcefully flick him aside, his massive form thrown off balance and crashing to the ground. As I rise, his rage propels him to his feet, clenching his fists and heaving with rage.
"Now, here is some advice. Back the fuck off," I growl, my words laced with a dangerous edge. "Unless of course you're itching to be pounded into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp."
Through the deceptive mirror, I catch the spark of anger in my eyes, a crimson fire burning bright with warning.
"Like hell!" he roars, charging towards me once again. But this time, I had enough of playing nice. I don't care about the consequences. I don't feel a thing.
With an explosive surge of energy, I launch myself at him, my fist a blur as it connects with his unguarded body. The impact sends him hurtling backward, crashing into the metallic remnants of my prison table. Holy shit, that was satisfying. I've held back for far too long.
"You'll pay for that," he growls, rising from the wreckage, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip. "I'm gonna make you suffer."
"You're welcome to try," I meet his threat with an icy stare, my voice void of emotion.
The man lunges at me once more, but this time, I seize him with an iron grip, using his own momentum against him. With a resounding crash, I slam him forcefully to the ground, the metal floor groaning under the strain. He struggles, a growl of frustration escaping his lips, but I maintain my firm hold, my fingers digging into his flesh. Sparks crackle from the device strapped to his back.
"Oh, we've got ourselves a serious case of Daddy issues, huh?" he taunts from the crater where his head rests.
With a swift and brutal motion, I snap my fist forward, connecting with his face. The brute's mask twists and contorts under the impact, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the facade. His attempts to fight back are futile as I pin his arms down, blocking his movements. And just to make my point crystal clear, I deliver a decisive headbutt, shattering the mask further, exposing his true face. Blood splatters across the room, and a cry of pain escapes his lips.
I push him back, driving him towards the wall that bears the marks of our previous confrontation. "Who's the weakling now," I growl, my voice a low rumble. His roars of rage fill the chamber.
He struggles against my grip, but I hold him firmly in place. He chuckles, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "You think you can stop me? We are more alike than you think."
"That's where you're dead wrong," I grab the hulking man by his shirt and hurl him across the chamber with all my strength. The force propels him like a projectile, his massive form vanishing through the opposite wall with a deafening impact.
Behind the one-sided mirror, the scientists' voices buzz with fascination and scientific curiosity.
"Remarkable," Dr Stirling breathes. "The subject's strength defies all known parameters. It's as if he draws power from the very essence of anger."
"Yes, his power levels are off the charts," Dr Langley interjects. "We need to gather more data."
My gaze shifts towards the mirrored wall, a thin veil that separates me from the orchestrators of this madness.
My vision penetrates the glass, peering right into the familiar gaze of the gray-haired doctor. Beside him stands Dr. Langley, their expressions a blend of surprise and trepidation. But amidst the known faces, I spot a third figure.
"We must make him ready for deployment," the man in the military uniform declares, his voice echoing with familiarity. In that moment, recognition courses through me, connecting the fragmented pieces of this twisted puzzle. He is the mastermind behind my abduction, the puppeteer pulling the strings of my torment.
Anger surges through my veins as I meet his cold gaze. With my cover already blown, there's nothing left to lose. Time slows to a crawl as my muscles tense. I propel myself forward with explosive speed, crashing through the fragile glass barrier that separates us, a kaleidoscope of fragmented reflections cascading around me.
I seize the man by the collar, my grip tightening as I press him against the wall behind. I slow down just enough to prevent his skull from cracking against the unforgiving surface. His widened eyes betray a mix of surprise and alarm.
"It was you all along," I hiss through gritted teeth, my anger seething beneath a controlled facade. "Your voice..." The words catch in my throat as a sudden surge of pain ripples through my body, a vivid flash of green illuminating the room.
"Aaagh!" A guttural scream escapes my lips. Tendrils of searing pain shoot from my neck, cascading down my spine like molten fire. I collapse to my knees, my face contorted in a grimace of agony.
A glacial smirk stretches across the man's face, his eyes narrowing. "So much fire within you," he taunts. "But don't fret, we'll find a way to tame your flames, to mold you into a docile, obedient lamb."
The weight of his words crashes upon me. The pain intensifies, reaching an unbearable crescendo as my consciousness begins to falter. My gaze meets Dr. Stirling's eyes, and I see a flash of genuine concern before my world succumbs to the unforgiving darkness of oblivion.