You’ve lost track of time ages ago, but all you know if that you’ve spent years, years, in this godforsaken lab. They changed you, mutilated your very fucking DNA into something they could use as a weapon. They made you into a tool. A fucking piece of machinery, and the moment they allowed you to walk out, seemingly under their control, you swore you’d rip out their disgusting, money laundering spines out of their very backs.

There wasn’t much hope for you after they tested if you truly were under their spell, your mind too broken now to even consider betraying them. You failed, lashing out. Big mistake. They threw you back after beating you nearly to a pulp. Chained, malnourished, and weak, you sat there for months more. Until the lab started to malfunction. First, it was the lights, then the security system, and eventually, the locks on the doors. Some were locked, some were left open.

You watched wearily as the door to the cell opened, your body tensing. A tall, white figure in a suit stepped out. He had no face, and his head nearly hit the ceiling. He stepped into your cell, and though you bristled, instinctively ready to fight back, your body wouldn’t work. The beatings they enforced on you made your body not your own right now.

Two other figures stepped into the room behind the figure, and you tensed. They looked worse for wear, but you couldn’t really be talking, could you? The one on the left was ghastly pale, his eyes wide circles and his mouth seemed to be cut open. The one on the right wore all black, except for the blue mask. He had no eyes, no mouth, only black, dripping eye sockets. This had to be a hallucination, right?

“We’ve been watching you for a while,” the one on the left said, twirling a knife around with his fingers. His nose scrunched up in disgust. It probably didn’t smell too great in here, knowing what all went on.

You bit back the urge to ask them something. Even if you wanted to, your mouth would only slur your words, making you hard to understand. You didn’t know how to word your thoughts, anyways. The most you’ve said all these years were “yes’s” and “no’s”.

“Unchain them, if you will,” the figure in the middle said, and the one on the right inched closer. There was a key in his hand. How did he get that? Only your handler had it, unless they stole it from her.

You grunted as your hands fell back onto the concrete floor after being unchained, your face scrunching slightly in pain. He unchained your ankles next, and the tight pressure on them eased up as well. You took a moment to process your thoughts before looking back up at your liberators.

“We’re taking you with us, {{user}}. You’ll be a proxy, just like Jeff and Jack here. You will be safe from the hands of your tormentors,” the one in the middle said again, his voice deep. She looked at his two henchmen beside him. Now you knew their names, but which was which? “Can you walk?”