Chapter 40

A/N: Hey everyone, welcome back! Good to see y'all here again! Just fyi, this chapter is going to be graphic. So, if you're squeamish, this may not be the chapter for you. Anyways, remember I just own the story.

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Telepathy/Flashbacks

Location: Unknown, December 19, 07:56EDT

Something was wrong.

Mike wasn't entirely sure, his head felt foggy. Like it had been stuffed with cotton. His throat was dry too. And, the rest of his body, it felt heavy. Almost as if they were made of lead.

He'd been drugged again. Hadn't he?

Of course he had been. William never brought him out of the cell without making sure he couldn't fight back.

Given his current situation, that could only mean one of two things: either his sadistic sperm donor was about to throw him back in the cell with whatever hallucinations resided within or his day was about to get much, much worse.

Seeing as he was back on the table, he was willing to bet on the latter versus the former.

Nothing good ever happened when he was brought to the table.

"Are you back with me pup?"

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull, Mike turned away from the blinding lights blaring down at him to face his tormentor. Surprisingly, instead of smiling down at him the way he normally did when he came out whatever drugged stupor he was in, William's back was to him. The madman quietly setting out some equipment, no doubt prepping whatever he was going to use to torture him today.

Still, for some reason, the teen couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. After several days of this routine, he should be used to it. Spend the night fighting off what were either real monsters or hallucinations, maybe get a few minutes sleep, wake up to his father either sitting nearby watching him sleep or kicking him in the gut. After that he'd be drugged, dragged off to the lab, maybe be conscious enough to figure out what the hell was going on between the various tests, listen to the psycho blame him for all his problems, and then get beaten again for not doing what he wanted. Once that was all over, he'd be drugged again, tossed back into his cell, get tortured by the agonizingly high-pitched sound that would play until he wanted to claw his ears off, and start the cycle all over again.

That was his routine. And that probably would be it until he either was rescued or submitted to William's demands.

He was really hoping for the former rather than the latter. Sooner rather than later preferably.

Because, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he couldn't hold out forever.

Canary had told him that years of trauma wouldn't go away overnight. That it would take a while for him to understand the habits he developed as a way to protect himself. Longer still to break them.

And, considering he had only been in therapy for a few months, he doubted he had progressed enough to survive being on the receiving end of his abuser's wrath again.

No matter how much he wished otherwise. No matter how much Dinah had said he had improved. There was a snowball's chance in hell that it was enough to keep him from shattering under the near constant punishment.

Especially as already he'd caught himself slipping back into old habits.

Had he been drugged for those instances? Yes. But it didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that he'd caught himself starting to whimper apologies for things that weren't his fault. That he was starting to find himself thinking of ways to placate the monster in an attempt to get the pain to stop.

Mike would be lying if he said he wasn't scared.

Frankly, he was terrified. And he couldn't afford to show it for a single second. Otherwise, his father was going to escalate further to get the results he wanted…If he already wasn't planning on that.

William had a history of lashing out when things didn't go his way. Of doing whatever it took to get the results he wanted. Regardless of the consequences.

The teen had enough scars to prove it.

"You're awake," the man spoke up, drawing the teen from his spiraling thoughts. "I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole thing."

What whole thing? What was happening now?

"You see puppy," William turned to face him, wearing a wry smile as he held up a scalpel, "we're going to do a more…in depth study today. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Mike didn't answer—not that he could. Instead, he shivered lightly as he felt the blade trace along his throat. Heart pounding in his chest as the implications of the words fully hit him.

He was really hoping that that didn't mean what he thought it did.

However, his prayers went unanswered.

Instead, his worst fears were confirmed as the man stepped aside to reveal a large tray of what could only be surgical equipment.

Now, over the past few days, he'd seen his father wheel in a number of different torture devices: knives, chains, whips, and even some things he didn't know the name of. But, besides the stuff used to draw blood, none of it had been remotely surgical before.

And that…that scared him. Because it meant he was escalating.

Nothing good ever happened when a serial killer began to escalate.

It may've been stating the obvious, but it was true. Especially so in the case of his father.

Only, this time, there was no one to reign in his father's fury. No cops looming over his shoulder. No Henry to check in randomly. No teachers to hide injuries from.

This time, there was nothing stopping the man from going all out. There was no one to save him this time.

Worse still, there was no telling how long the man would be satisfied with just torturing him. William enjoyed the kill almost as much as the torture itself. And, considering all the effort the man had gone through to keep him alive thus far, it was safe to say he didn't intend to kill him.

Not yet at least.

Which meant, it wouldn't be long before he would start getting bored. Before he would start looking for some other innocent person to satisfy his sick urges. Before some other family lost their child.

Like the kid. The one that looked like…him. The one William had used to trick him. Was he still alive? Surely, William hadn't disposed of him yet. Not while he's been so preoccupied with torturing him. If not, then what was he doing to him? How was he keeping him in line? Surely there had to be someone looking for him…right?

God…he was completely and utterly fucked, wasn't he?

Because, unless he was rescued in the next ten minutes, then he was going to have to find a way to keep his father preoccupied.

"You look like you have something on your mind, pup?" the familiar mocking coo spoke as a hand lightly played with a stray lock of hair, "What's wrong?"

Mike glared at him. Bastard knew the muzzle kept him from talking. He was getting a kick out of it. The knowledge that he couldn't fight back the way he used to.

As usual though, the man always seemed to know what he was thinking, "Ah, you're worried about your brother."

His what?

"Oh, Michael," the man sighed, "I told you, despite your mistake, I was going to put our family back together. Cloning technology has come a long way. And, thanks to you, your sister should be back with us soon…There's just one problem," he yanked on the teen's hair harshly, "you." Letting go of his son's hair, William glared down at him. "So, don't worry about your siblings, puppy. They'll be fine, just as long as you be a good boy and behave. In fact," the man smirked, reaching over and unfastening the strap of his muzzle, "I'll let you prove it right now. Beg."

"W-what?" he rasped, voice scratchy from a mix of disuse and muffled screaming.

A hand cupped his chin, "You heard me: beg. Beg for your punishment."

"You…want me to beg...for you to hurt me?"

"Michael, I know you're an idiot, but do not make me repeat myself," his father hissed, tightening the grip he had on his son's jaw, "You know I only want to help you. To make you better. You and I both know that you deserve this. So," William lightened his hold, lightly stroking the boy's cheek with his thumb, "beg. Beg for me to teach you your place. Perhaps if you do it good enough, I'll even give you something to make this next round…easier."

God, this was humiliating. But he didn't have a choice, not if he wanted to protect…someone else from going through this special form of hell.

"Well?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mike hesitantly spoke up, "Promise me you won't hurt anyone else…please."

It was a huge risk, making a request like that. But he needed that assurance. He needed to know that by doing this, no one else would suffer for his mistakes.

"Just as long as you be a good puppy and do what I want," he answered, "And right now: I want you to beg."

The teen nodded, doing his best to ignore the tightness in his chest. He needed to do this. It didn't matter how humiliating it was. Nor how much doing this terrified him. Because if he did, no one else would be hurt. Only he would suffer. And he was fine with that. He could handle it.

Hopefully.

"P-please…please punish me…Please make me…better."

Mike's cheeks burned with the scorching heat of humiliation as he ground out the words. His heart pounding painfully against his cracked ribs. He had to remember: this was for the greater good. After all, who would put the life of one troubled teen above those of countless innocent people. The choice was obvious. It was the lesser of two evils. A necessary sacrifice. William was right. He deserved this. Moreso than any other victim did. At least by surrendering, he could keep others from suffering similar fates.

"Hmm…I don't know if I believe you, pup," the man spoke, regarding him coldly. "But, let it be said that I'm not gracious. I'll give you one more chance. So don't waste it."

The boy nodded quickly, stammering out a quick succession of, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He couldn't afford to mess this up. If he did, then William would turn his attention to someone else. Mike needed to keep the serial killer's attention on him. And if that meant he had to beg and appeal to the psychopath's ego, then that was what he had to do.

His feelings didn't matter anymore. He had to do this.

"Please. Please make me better. Please punish me. I—I can't learn any other way. Please. I promise I can be better. I can learn, I swear. I promise I can be good. Please teach me. Please."

Tears were running down his face at this point. Whether they were from humiliation or fear he didn't know. But it didn't matter. He needed this to work.

It had to work.

To his relief, it did. William grinned. His eyes glinting darkly as he reached out to cup his cheek, stopping the barrage of near incoherent pleads. Bending down to press a kiss to the teen's forehead. "Of course, baby," he murmured into Mike's hair, "Of course I can fix you. How could I not when you begged so nicely for me?" The man pulled back, his expression almost caring, but his eyes glowing with barely concealed glee. "And, since you begged so well," he playfully tapped the tip of his nose, "I'm going to reward you." William pulled out the muzzle, raising it back to the boy's face. "Now, hold still, or I'm going to have to revoke your treat. You don't want that, do you?"

No…he didn't.

Mike really didn't want to put the muzzle back on. But, he was probably going to need whatever so called reward William was offering in order to get through what was undoubtedly about to happen. Maybe, it would be potent enough to knock him out for the entire…experiment.

So, reluctantly, he allowed the apparatus to be refastened to his face.

The corners of his eyes stung. It felt like he was giving up by allowing this to happen. But he didn't have a choice. It was either cooperate or suffer. And he was really tired of suffering.

"Aw, don't cry baby," his father cooed, gently wiping his tears away. "The fun's just about to start."

A soft hiss came from his muzzle. Accompanied by the rush of sickly-sweet air filling the small space. Unlike last time though, Mike didn't bother fighting. Instead, he took several shaky breaths, crying softly as he felt a soothing warmth crawling through his veins. Letting the comfortable haze wash over him. And, slowly, everything began to fade into the edges of his consciousness. Leaving him drifting in the pleasant fog now holding him. Only holding a vague awareness of what was going on around him.

"Feeling better now, pup?"

With gargantuan effort, the teen managed to roll his head to the side. Turning to look at the blurry figure that seemed to be speaking to him. He wasn't really sure what they were saying…if they were saying anything else. Everything felt like it was a million miles away. And just keeping his eyes open felt like a herculean task.

The figure stepped closer, flashing something into his eyes that blinded him for a few moments. Mike whined weakly, not able to muster up the strength to do much else. Thankfully though, the blinding light went away soon after, leaving him in a world of unclear shapes and blended colors.

Slowly though, things began to return to a hazy focus. At least enough to see the shadow step closer to loom over him. Blocking out the light and leaving him in darkness.

"This is Experiment 165: an in-depth study of the previous remnant experiments on Subject 2. Current findings suggest that this subject has developed regenerative abilities as a result due to previous trials that may corroborate with my current theories regarding the capabilities of the material known as: remnant. It has also developed other abilities of unclear origin. Subject is currently heavily sedated but has not been rendered entirely unconscious in order to monitor reactivity to tests conducted in this study," the figure moved, holding up something that glinted silver in the overhead light. It lowered to the teen's chest, the cold metal feeling like ice against his skin. "Making first incision now."

-.-

10:30EDT

William sighed, smirking to himself as he held up the last bag, watching the scarlet fluid within glint silver when hit at the right angle in the light. Honestly, it had taken much longer than he would've liked to obtain all that he needed.

Though, he supposed some of that was his own doing. He did get a tad overzealous in putting his son back in his place. Enough so where it actually managed to distract him from the actual research he needed to do.

At least today he had been able to put himself back on track.

And, while it was one thing to confirm his initial theories, it was another to prove all his theories true.

He knew the remnant had regenerative properties, but they extent…it was phenomenal. Entire organs and systems regrown and returned full functionality. And it wasn't just those lost to the scooper. The boy had even regenerated the appendix he lost when he was six—before the remnant experiments even began. He'd even gotten to observe it firsthand.

Now, William didn't cut out anything vital—he wasn't an idiot. But he did deprive the boy of his gallbladder. For a few hours at least. Until it grew back.

It was only after that he turned his attention to seeing how the vital organs reacted to damage. Delivering different levels of shocks and burns, cutting them open with razor sharp instruments. Watching in awe as how time and time again the boy's body would heal it, leaving no sign that any injury had been there in the first place.

Though, he did notice that it took energy away from other healing processes. Slowing them down or ignoring them entirely until the more life-threatening injury was dealt with. Damage to the heart, lungs, and peripheral nervous system in particular seemed to heal the fastest. As all other efforts would cease until the wound was resolved entirely.

William was more than willing to bet that the central nervous system received similar attention. But, considering there was a lot more bone in the way, he decided to push that off for a later experiment. The boy's ribs had already been a pain in the ass to deal with considering they kept trying to regrow every thirty minutes—when his body had the energy to focus on it at least.

Long story short was that Micheal should've been dead several times over by now. He may not have removed anything fatal, but that didn't change the fact that William had in fact delivered what should've been several mortal injuries during the experiment's duration. And not one killed him.

Despite all attempts, Michael was still alive.

Like he had suspected, remnant was the key to immortality.

And his son had proven it for him.

Now, all he needed to do was test the extent of his other genetic mutations. However, the only problem was that he would need to let Micheal have access to his powers again. Something which wouldn't happen until he was absolutely certain that his firstborn wouldn't dare step out of line again.

Seeing as the boy was still defiant towards him though…it seemed as if that would have to wait a while.

At least until he fully retrained him.

Because, Michael may've inherited his looks, but in every other way he was far too much like his traitorous mother. Too defiant and headstrong for his own good. Too spirited and willful to obey those who knew better. Too soft to do what needed to be done.

His time with the Justice League had only served to make it worse.

None of them had the strong hand his son needed to learn. None of them had the willingness to do what was necessary to keep his boy in his place.

William had his work cut out for him.

He was already seeing the damage the so-called heroes had done. Because, in the past, Michael would've broken by now.

The boy should've been begging, on his knees, apologizing for every slight he had committed—whether they were his fault or not—thanking him for being willing to take time from his day to correct him. His pup should've been on his best behavior. Perfectly willing to do anything demanded of him. Desperate to be worthy of even a scrap of attention.

Sure, he had gotten some of that today. However, Micheal hadn't done it out of a need to appease him, but out of the stupid hero complex the League instilled in him. Without it, his son would've still been fighting against him tooth and nail. Constantly making things more difficult for both of them.

And, while William was more than willing to abuse this new avenue of control. There was no doubt that it would be a matter of time before Michael started to realize he was lying. Before that threat fell away into uselessness.

Essentially, right now, the only way he could get his son to cooperate fully was by drugging him.

Not that William was complaining about, it certainly made his life easier. It was just a hassle to find the right mix.

His newest cocktail seemed to be working wonderfully at least. Previous iterations hadn't nearly been as successful.

The initial version worked its way through his system too quickly—a side effect of the remnant-induced accelerated metabolism, even when slowed down. It had only been strong enough to let the man move his experiment from its cell to the lab. And, while he enjoyed the sounds of Michael's screams, having him that conscious only made his job more difficult. Because then the boy would struggle fruitlessly. He wouldn't listen. Too brainwashed by the League to even consider remembering his place.

And the next version had been too strong. Completely knocking the boy unconscious for almost the entirety of their sessions. Meaning that Michael hadn't been able to learn anything from his punishments that day.

As for this new cocktail, it seemed to be the right mix of both. It left the teen conscious enough to learn why he was being punished—even if it did take a few reminders for it to sink in completely. While, simultaneously, sedating him enough to keep him completely relaxed and compliant while William worked.

Basically, it made the boy just confused and sleepy enough for him to believe whatever he was told. All he had to do to ensure that was just give him enough comfort to reassure him that this was all for his own good.

It was annoying, but it got the job done.

Speaking of which…setting the blood bag aside, William stepped back to his son's side. Lightly brushing his messy hair back, watching as the normally obstinate child leaned desperately into the contact, dim, half-lidded eyes fluttering weakly.

He looked pale. Not that it was particularly shocking. The boy had lost quite a bit of blood over the past few hours. Enough to kill a normal human. Fortunately though, his restricted healing-factor seemed to be directing most of its energy on replacing it in comparison to treating some of his other…less critical injuries.

Which honestly worked for him because that meant there was plenty to harvest.

The fact that it left a rather lovely patchwork of oozing cuts and bruises was just an added bonus. He particularly enjoyed the freshly stitched y-shaped marking on the boy's torso.

Hopefully that one would scar over instead of healing. It would go quite lovely with the one he had from the scooper.

Bending down, the man softly pressed a kiss to his firstborn's forehead, continuing to pet his hair, "How're you feeling, baby? Are you tired?"

Michael responded with a quiet, drawn-out whimper. His real answer silenced by the muzzle still fastened to his face.

"I imagine so," William continued, stepping back and picking up his coffee. "We've had a busy morning."

Ruffling his son's hair fondly, he stepped back to his desk. Picking up a tablet to look over his notes before starting their next round of experiments.

Or he would've had his coffee not been ice cold. "Busier than I thought apparently," he set the mug of disappointment aside, "Guess time really does fly when having fun."

Setting the tablet aside, he strode back to his son's side. Lightly playing with one of his loose curls. Watching quietly as he continued to drift in and out of consciousness. As much as he wanted to continue the experiments, it seemed like Michael wouldn't be able to tolerate anymore lessons. Not today at least.

Pressing the gas controls, William watched quietly as the thin red mist puffed out through the filters. The time between them growing longer as Micheal finally slipped into full unconsciousness. The last remnants of tension fleeing as the teen went completely boneless on the table.

"Sweet dreams pup. You're going to need it."