The cell was dark, its metallic floor cold to the touch, rats scurrying about it in search of food, investigating the seeming corpse that lay in the center of the cell.
A twitch from it betrayed any assumptions that it was dead. It was Scott Free and though he was alive, he certainly didn't feel like it. He was malnourished, cold, and above all else tired. Tired of the conditions he was in, tired of the fear of what Granny Goodness will come up with to torture him next, tired of everything.
He lost track of time of how long he was around for. He was supposed to be a regular teenager, hanging out with friends and sneaking out at night. The only thing he was sneaking out of was a prison cell just like this one.
He wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. He was scared to close his eyes because that would mean he might never open them again. But at the same time, he was scared to keep them open because that just means he'll see what's coming.
The only form of light in the cell was the light in the hallway that just barely shined over the bars. The right angle where he can see every shadow from the tiniest of insects to the largest of parademons ready to send him to the torture rooms.
A shadow appeared in his view. He twitched and whimpered instinctively, expecting the chilling cackle of Granny Goodness, until the figure spoke.
"So you're Darkseid's prized possession. I'm not impressed."
It was a voice that he didn't recognize. He turned to see the source: A young girl, roughly the same age as him it seemed. She wore blood-stained armor and was carrying a bloodied spear on one hand and a broken shield on the other. The other thing that stood out to him was how tall she was.
"Who… are you?" Scott said, his voice low and hoarse. Barely a whisper.
"I am Big Barda. Future Captain of the Furies."
"Oh, the Furies…" He muttered, "Have you come to torture me, too?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because that's what Granny Goodness does. Last time, she sent Lashina to do the lashings. It hurts."
She paused before answering, "I am not here to torture you. I was merely curious to find you after hearing the many whispers I've heard." She kneeled down to his eye level, "I have no true quarrel with you."
"Oh…" Scott blinked, "Well, that's nice, I suppose."
"It is not an act of kindness. It is simply pragmatism."
He didn't respond to that. Frankly, it was so refreshing to hear that. Everyone who passed by his cell were either here to torture him, mock him, or scoff at him. But her? She had no real animosity towards him. He thanked the Source that there was at least one person who didn't hate him.
"Why is your name, Scott Free, anyways?" She asked, breaking him out of his thoughts, "Is that really your name?"
"No." He whispered, "They gave it to me. Mocking me with my tendency to escape. I don't even know my real name."
She felt a pang in her heart, "Nor do I." She whispered, "I do not even know if I have a mother or a father."
"At least you were spared the thought of them giving you away…" He seethed, clenching his bony fists, what little of his muscle mass remaining squeezing.
His eyes narrowed in determination, "They call me Scott Free to mock me, but the joke will be on them." He hissed, "I will break out of here for good. And then they'll eat their words."
The Fury-in-training only raised a brow at this before smiling, "You're funny." She chuckled, "You can't escape Darkseid. Let alone Apokolips."
"I can escape anything, Barda."
Her smile never faltered. She found him strangely amusing.
After this, she would periodically visit him again and again for the centuries to come. He found him endearing and he always brought a smile to her face. There was just something about him she liked.
Scott likewise enjoyed the company even on the darkest of days. The food she brought, the way she laughed with him as opposed to at him. And her smile… It shined with the radiance of the brightest of suns.
Every time they talked to each other, it was one of the few brief respites they had on Apokolips. In those moments, there were no threats of sudden lashings or fighting to the death in the gladiator pits. There weren't even cell bars.
Just them.
In moments of reminiscence in this, Scott was glad that he could sleep on a real bed. With warm blankets and a cool pillow. No more threats of starvation or sudden lashings. Just him and his wife in their own home.
"So it's National Relaxation Day." Scott said, nestling in his wife's arms.
"That translates to 'don't do anything,' I presume?" Barda muttered.
"Yeah."
"Good." Barda sighed, "I feel tired from all these holidays."
"They're monthly things."
"I don't care, I need a break. And to catch up on my shows."
"There wasn't anything major for this month anyways." He chuckled before closing his eyes, "I'm gonna take a nap. You watch your shows."
"Fine by me." She responded as she picked up the remote and turned on the television.
He adjusted himself, being careful not to bump into Barda's slowly growing belly. He caressed it and gave it a kiss before going to sleep.