Freedom

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Hugo Strange welcomes me back to hell with a gleaming smile. Miss Peabody is quick to return the modifier necklace to it's proper place around my vocal chords. Once I hand over the device, the two scientists ask a list of questions regarding my performance.

"Did anything trigger your memory?"

"Did you enjoy killing that pharmacist?"

"Was it easy to follow our instructions?"

I ease their worries with genuine, naive answers. I weave a tiny truth intro every lie, which they seem to believe.

"Let's put you on the schedule for next week, my dear. I think this is a perfect way to integrate you back into civilian life. For now, rest. Regain your strength."

The pair leave me in silence to a minuscule, soundproof cell. I can almost smell the snowy air. Oh, how I long to be outside once again.

Victor comes to his window. "So it went well?"

I'm reminded of the woman a few cells down. Penguin, she said.

He came to ask for a favor from Penguin. The boss made him collect a debt to prove they were still friends. It got messy.

"I think so," I say, slipping off black combat boots. "I had to kill someone."

"You get used to it. Trust me. No one's life means anything in this world."

Penguin could rot for all I care, but for some ridiculous reason, I can't stand to see you hurt.

"Thank you, Donnie Darko. Did you ever know someone called Penguin?"

Those icy blue hues examine the frames of his window, lost in thought. "There was a mob boss with that name, I think. He was a total psycho from what I heard. Why?"

I fall into my bed, refusing to reveal my terrified gaze. Was I a bad person in my past life? If not, why would I be affiliated with a gangster? Perhaps he's the man who killed me. That's the best-case scenario, and even that is horrifying.

Last time I was hurt, Penguin slit the throat of the man who did it.

"Cardinal?"

"Wake me when dinner gets here," I say.

He doesn't. When I open my eyes, I'm strapped to a chair in Strange's laboratory. Oh god. Panic rushes into my mind. My hands and feet are tied with extra strength locks. Even my head is secured into place.

Sweat collects in my palm. The scars along my arms itch with goosebumps and fear. I hate this. Oh god, I don't want to do this.

"Good evening, my Cardinal."

I can barely catch my breath through a clenched jaw.

You don't scare me.

"There's no need to fear, child. We've been through this procedure hundreds of times before. To keep your new abilities in use, you and I must continue with these trials."

The syringe in his hand doesn't frighten me. It's the blood-colored liquid inside that sends tremors down my spine. Much against my wishes, he inserts the needle into the crook of my elbow.

I'm glad about that. I'm glad you're not scared. You're just what I need, darling.

"Remember your coping tactics. Breathe in four counts, out for eight. The calmer you are, the easier this transition will be."

No amount of concentrated breathing or mental preparation can relieve the anguish pumping through my blood. Re-writing DNA is just as painful as it sounds. With a new chip in my veins, Strange can correct the changes made by using my abilities.

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