The Lights turned off, resetting the room back to its unnatural darkness for a few brief moments before the regular light bulb overhead clicked on with an audible buzz. Shawn left his trance with his gaze upon the bulb, the damn thing incredibly bright to his super sensitive eyes. He shut them quickly and turned his head away from it, coping with the headache as best as he could.

 

He didn't know much of anything about his situation, really. He had no reliable way of gauging how long he spent in each trance as the Diamond Lights played with him. He never felt thirsty or hungry when waking up (which conjured up some delightful possibilities as to why that was), and he didn't have a mirror lying around to check his hair growth. He guessed that he'd been prisoner for at least two days, as he had fallen asleep thrice on his own exhaustion, but it could have been longer than a week for all he knew.

 

His captors probably turned the Diamond Lights off at certain times rather than keeping them on full time to ensure that they did not totally destroy his mind. Shawn knew from his boss that the Diamond Lights were not capable of causing mental regression, but only addition or conversion. A personality could be changed and an intellect could be affected with subtle nudges, but a person would not be reduced as a direct result of overexposure.

 

Of course, he didn't know why it was that they let him cool down at all. It could have been for another reason entirely that they turned the lights off than concern for his mental health. He couldn't possibly guess what they were testing him for; the subject of the Diamond Lights was unaware of the subconscious alterations and would not have any recollections over anything changed. This was why Luthor still was after that journalist from the Daily Planet even after discovering and using the Lights' functions. So far as he knew.

 

He had to assume that they were watching him for some sort of shift in his behavior. A shift he could not anticipate himself. Affected people were supposed to be incapable of noticing any differences in relation to the Diamond Lights; the conscious human mind would reject the mere notion that anyone had tampered with it. It was one of the most effective ways to convince someone of a different reality than what they were used to. The effects were not permanent, however, as regular Diamond Lights therapy was required to keep the subject in line. Boss had a way of shutting down all Diamond Lights everywhere, which would cause all of its patients to return to normal within a month or so. His boss, however, had no reason to shut down the Diamond Lights if he didn't know they were being used on one of his men.

 

So he sat beneath the watch of those people who kept him bound. Doctors in those white lab coats, men in those padded suits, Mercy in her executive attire. He could distinctly recall her uniquely toned muscles giving her legs that perfect shape that few ever got to see. She knew that men noticed, choosing to wear such a short skirt that the thigh was almost half-covered but not quite. Her very extensive tan indicated a determined effort to keep herself fresh in the mind of any who looked at her for a long while.

 

The lights turned off abruptly. Shawn looked up at where the bulb was. They usually gave him a longer amount of time to sit there before returning to his conditioning. Were they moving up their timetable?

 

Curiously, the Diamond Lights didn't turn back on. The room remained dark. Without sight, he became suddenly aware of his pants becoming a little tighter than before.

 

Distant pops. Gunfire. Shawn started, sitting up straight. Had his boss come for him? Was he about to be rescued?

 

There were a series of clicks coming from the direction of the door followed by the scraping of metal that he hadn't heard since the first time he had awoken here. The door was opening, but no light came in from outside of the room he was in. He didn't see anyone enter, nor did he hear any sounds once the door had finished opening. No footsteps, no gunfire, nothing.

 

Shawn straightened out in his chair, doing his best to search the obscurity for any signs of movement. He found none. Worried that he was wasting his time doing nothing, Shawn struggled against his bonds with a renewed vigor. He hadn't had much luck the previous few attempts, but now seemed like as good a time as any. Using his right leg, he shifted his weight forward as if he were standing on that one leg, the straps around his knees becoming increasingly uncomfortable as he pushed. Then, once he got to the point where he had nearly lost all feeling in his legs, he threw himself back into the seat, hoping to break the construct and slip out his arms. The chair held steady, not snapping under his force. He tried it again from a different angle against one particular side of the seat, but failed to achieve a different result.

 

"Shhhhh..."

 

Shawn froze, slowly letting his eyes drift up in front of him. He couldn't see anyone there, but the direction of the hush had come from directly in front of him. Where?

 

"I need you to do everything I tell you to do," a deep male voice said. Strangely, Shawn enjoyed the sound of his voice; it made the man sound like a professional even if he couldn't tell what he looked like. "They'll be coming in this room momentarily. Keep very still."

 

The voice sounded somewhat familiar and suddenly epiphanic. Shawn just wanted to sit there and let the voice go on and on and on. Doing as he was told, Shawn slumped in the seat and made as if he was ignorant of anyone being in the room.

 

A distant set of footfalls quickly became louder at the same time that a distant white light became more distinct and total. The room was lit up slowly as what Shawn knew to be a flashlight drew near. The speaker, however, did not appear before him with the now brighter aspect.

 

The flashlight developed into a beam that expanded around his back, Shawn instinctively lurching forward and shutting his eyes against the sensory opposite of pitch blackness. He could feel the person round in front of him and shine the flashlight directly into his face. Shawn bared a squinted glimpse back, seeing only the small circle of brightness taking everything else.

 

Then, suddenly, the light spun around as the man dropped it, revealing a black-gloved hand covering the mouth of a man in a padded suit. The light spun off of them, but shortly returned to show the guard being flipped over the back of a man in black armor. Darkness returned as a loud thud sounded out, followed by a light crack as the flashlight hit the floor and broke, the light winking out.

 

A soft, strained exhale came from in front of Shawn. Given that the suited-guard did not stumble around looking for the flashlight or cry for help, Shawn could assume that he was being properly handled by whoever it was in the room with them. Within a few seconds, a body hit the floor in front of him, the man's head making contact with Shawn's foot.

 

"If we're going to get out of here, I need you to work with me," the intruder said. 

 

Shawn's left hand was cut free from his bindings with no warning. He hadn't felt a hand, knife, nor a breeze from the slice. He lifted his arm up- gingerly, the blood having been drained from his arms from several days of inactivity- and put it between his knees for warmth. His right hand was then freed, allowing Shawn to repeat.

 

"They took your car when they captured you," he whispered. "I need you to go back to it and get the money you hid in there. There shouldn't be anyone in the garage-"

 

"I don't have the money," Shawn said. He regretted having cut the voice off almost immediately.

 

For a long time, silence ruled the room. Shawn worried that the man had left him and that he wouldn't be able to hear the voice anymore.

 

"You'll get me the money once we get out of here, yes?" the other man finally asked.

 

"I can't," Shawn replied, his hands coming back into use. He reached down to his ankles to remove them, too. "I gave it away." Shawn heard a sigh of disappointment. "I don't know where or how it's being spent, but-"

 

A firm, flexed-fingered grip locked around Shawn's throat. He gagged, having his breath stolen from him all at once as his own hands grabbed at the wrist pushing against his collar bone. He was strong. The hand felt like it was coated in some sort of metal.

 

"You'll get it for me," the intruder insisted.

 

The hand around his throat loosened just enough for Shawn to let out a strangled reply. "No!"

 

The hand around his neck pushed forward briefly before withdrawing. "I don't have time for this. You're going to give it to me, one way or another." He cut open the bindings around Shawn's legs. "Let's go."

 

Shawn, still recovering his breath, leaned forward to stand, but he had absolutely no feeling in his legs after having not used them in so long. With a soft grunt, he fell forward onto his hands and knees, eyes squeezed shut while also twitching at the same time. Damn, his legs felt like they were simply hanging from his knees and would detach if he tried to straighten them.

 

"Get up." His voice was a growl now, but still somehow pleasant to listen to. Who was this man? "You're not going to slow us down."

 

Shawn said nothing, his teeth clamped so hard together that making any noise was impossible. He tried wriggling his knees to return some feeling to the limbs below them.

 

It took a few more agonizing moments where Shawn nearly convinced himself he would never walk again before he could slowly stagger to his feet. His eyes opened, affording him his first steady glimpse of his rescuer. Well, part of him. Most of his body was still hidden in the blackness that seemed to shroud him intentionally. The part he could see was metallic. He wore a lot in the way of protection from attack, a heavy load that made it all the more impressive that he could be so silent. And the most visible part of his body was his masked face. Half of it was black and coated intercrossing in a twisted pattern. The other half was tan with a slit for one eye to peek out scornfully. 

 

Shawn tensed quickly. Deathstroke? Had his boss hired Deathstroke to break him out? He wasn't sure whether his boss had hired the best person available or just bought the most volatile.

 

"We're leaving, even if you have to drag yourself out of here. I'm not going to carry you."

 

"Can I have a weapon?" Shawn asked.

 

"No," the mercenary replied forcefully. "I'm getting us out nice and quiet." With that, he rolled his wrists around and walked past Shawn toward the room's exit.

 

Shawn had a much more difficult time seeing his way through than Slade did. His foot kicked something metallic that clacked back at him, sliding across the floor. He knelt down and felt for it, hoping it was the flashlight, but he instead found that it was the gun the guard had brought it. It was an assault rifle with a loose stock, something he discovered when he felt that wiggle around inside of the firearm. The shape and weight of the magazine felt like it was automatic.

 

"I said no weapons!" Slade hissed from somewhere up ahead.

 

"I can't see," Shawn shot back before realizing that snapping at a world-renowned master assassin was probably not good for his health. He gulped.

 

There was no sound as Deathstroke somehow got around him and firmly gripped him by the back of his neck. Shawn stiffened, going rigid and dropping the gun. Deathstroke towed his unresisting body over toward the exit where the lighting was better, then shoved him by the neck- he put a lot of force into that shove- out the door, causing him to hit the wall opposite to the room where he had spent the past few days. He groaned, placing both palms against the stone surface to help steady himself.

 

The intruder didn't let him have a rest. A steel-plated hand pressed against Shawn's cheek into the concrete before him. He barely managed to get one foot between himself and the wall, taking his weight off of the other one and pushing off of the wall into Deathstroke. The man barely budged from his spot, standing there unfazed as Shawn slipped off of his armor and fell to the floor on his side. He placed a boot on top of Shawn's neck before he could stand, eliciting a few gasps and strangled chokes. Why was it always the neck?

 

"You want to stay here, fine by me," Slade growled. "But I want answers first. I want to know where you put the money."

 

"I gave it to my partner!" Shawn cried, trying with both of his hands to remove the mercenary's foot. Shawn then decided that he would rather have had anyone else sent in to rescue him. Anyone but Deathstroke would have been nice.

 

"Where did your partner go?"

 

"I don't know!" Slade lessened his boot's pressure a fraction, giving Shawn enough room to breathe before the boot transitioned to his chest. He was confused. Had his partner just taken the money and abandoned the Masterplan? Was that why his boss had sent for Deathstroke? Or was it... "My boss didn't hire you, did he?"

 

Deathstroke's visible eye darkened, shrinking in size. "No, he didn't. Who is your boss?"

 

"Hold it right there!" a voice shouted. A new beam of light found them, illuminating Deathstroke's figure.

 

Deathstroke cursed, his voice still pleasing to hear. In fact, the other voice was also rather enchanting. Perhaps there were more people in this building with some congenial voices.

 

Shawn turned his head to the side. There were three men over to his left, all with weapons trained on the mercenary. Their flashlights were attached to their rifles, putting the emphasis of the room on the two men fighting. The figures behind the lights may as well have been shadows.

 

"Don't move!" the guard on the left shouted.

 

Deathstroke ignored him, taking his foot off of Shawn's chest and bolting down the hallway away from the guard. A few shots were fired in Slade's direction, but none of them hit the intended target, striking the walls instead. He managed to get around a wall and continued running.

 

"Shit!" the same guard said. He pointed at one man with him. "Follow. Go!"

 

One of the three flashlights pointed directly at the floor as the bearer ran down toward where the intruder had fled. He raced forward, attempting to leap over Shawn and continue, but Shawn reached up and grabbed one of his ankles. Even if Slade wasn't on his side, he'd still get himself out of here.

 

The guard fell flat on his face with a grunt. Shawn held on to the ankle, twisting it as he sat up and mounted the guard from behind. One of the guards behind him said not to shoot because he was too valuable. They made loud footfalls that grew closer and closer and closer.

 

Shawn smiled; he would have no such limitation. He wrested the rifle from the man beneath him. He was still awake if not fully lucid, struggling lightly as gun came out from underneath his body. Shawn put a quick round into his back before circling around to face the two guards charging at him.

 

The barrel of Shawn's rifle hit the hip of one guard, causing him to stop and wince. He fired the weapon, but the end of the barrel was not pointed at the man's hip but beside it. An arm hooked around the gun and tugged, holding it against his hip despite Shawn's attempt to retract his gun.

 

The other guard came from the side, bringing the stock of his rifle up to bash Shawn in the head. Shawn chose to let go of the rifle in his hands and duck under the attempted strike. The guard holding Shawn's weapon slipped backwards from his unevenly placed balance. Shawn, meanwhile, locked his arms around the other guard's waist from behind and pushed him up against the wall before pulling back and tripping him over his knee. He grabbed that guard's gun from against the wall and rolled away, bringing the sights up to his right eye in a crouch. He shot the guard who had slipped in the head, then the final guard in the chest.

 

Staying out for a moment, Shawn scanned the hallway, looking for any other guards. In spite of his flashlight, it was still dark in there, and he had never seen the layout of this building. The guards would have an advantage of knowing the building, and those gunshots were bound to bring more of them in. He debated following Slade down the way he had gone, but he couldn't be sure if he had gone in the direction of an exit Shawn could reach or if he had simply ran to escape from those guards.

 

His eyes saw only white for a brief moment. He lost control of his mouth, and he felt a gurgle building up on the saliva gathering in his mouth. Shawn tried to scream, but it came out as a gentle hum. All he knew was a pain that resonated through his whole body.

 

The sensation stopped, Shawn breathlessly falling to his knees as a result. The gun slipped from his fingers. With a sneaking suspicion, he slowly turned his head to look at the first guard he had felled. Sure enough, the guard held a taser in his left hand close to Shawn's calf. He had electrocuted him.

 

He did it again, Shawn spasming once before falling forward. He noticed another guard stirring, the one who had been shot in the chest. He gradually found his feet and his rifle in front of Shawn. The third guard with the bullet in his head did not rise.

 

Of course, Shawn thought tiredly. Body armor. Why didn't I think of that? Not wanting to dwell on his own stupidity or keep fighting the pain in his body, he blissfully closed his eyes and faded away to total darkness.