"Why won't you drip?" Pierce whispered under his breath as he stared at the cracked ceiling of his cell. A frozen splotch, of what once had been water, was nestled in the corner of the cell and one of the drips had frozen mid-drip. For days, Pierce had stared at the phenomenon with much interest; his utter terror had transitioned into boredom.

     He had no idea how long he had been in the possession of the Black Dragon. Desmond guessed that it might have been a week or more, and he had counted about five days since his last "treatment" by Dr. Harrison. His days had been spent staring out the window, at the admittedly beautiful mountain range, and laying on the cot huddling for warmth. Although it somehow seemed much warmer inside the cell than outside, the window at the far end was practically a gateway inviting all the cold in. Desmond's hands had turned a pale-white and some feeling had been lost in most of his fingers. In order to keep them warm, he would rub them together or stick them between his legs; a method he had learned while watching a wilderness survival T.V. show.

     There was a creak and the daily morsels of sour-tasting food were thrown in. Desmond got up and, with his vastly-deteriorating strength, crawled over to the far wall and made himself eat the disgusting grub. It had taken awhile but he had decided that, since it was the only food he had access to, eating the sour particles was better than starving to death. Desmond suppressed himself from throwing up while he wolfed down the last piece and drank the cup of water that had been provided. It tasted unusual, but Desmond did not care because he was so thirsty. When he was done, he crawled back onto his cot and closed his heavy eyes. His mind drifted back to the leader of the Black Dragon and he wondered what their true intentions were.

     "Let me go!" a muffled voice said down the hall.

     "Shut up!" one of the guards yelled. "Where do I put her? There's no room!"

     "Throw her in with Pierce," another guard answered. "I heard his cell would be vacating shortly."

     Desmond's stomach turned into a knot at the words from the guard. There was some scuffling and the iron door was thrown open. A figure was tossed in and then the door abruptly closed again; accompanied by several clicks as locks were slid in place. The figure squirmed on the ground against bondages and what appeared to be a brown bag thrown over their head. Desmond lifted his head as his new partner tore through the bondages with difficulty and threw off the sack.

     "Who are..." Desmond started, but stopped when a mess of tangled brown hair tumbled out of the sack and down to the prisoner's mid-back.

     "Oh, that is so much better," the woman remarked,  rubbing her eyes.

     Desmond blinked back surprise, "Uh, hello?"

     The woman looked over at Desmond and immediately threw herself backward.

     Desmond sat up in his cot, cradling his frost-bitten hands, "So, what's your story?"

     The woman shook her head, "You? It can't be you..."

     He raised his eyebrows, "Why? Excited to see me?"

     "Desmond Pierce," she whispered, "was killed two weeks ago. Platinum Tower was bombed...he issued the threat."

     "Two weeks?" Desmond moaned. "I thought it had only been one!"

     "You...you..." the woman mumbled, "idiot!"

     "What?" Desmond asked.

     "Your playboy fanatics made you a target!" the woman hissed. "You're here because you angered the world. You're the reason he hates America."

     "He?" Desmond asked.

     She looked away, not answering his question, "Your fault..."

     Desmond looked down, "I'm sorry."

     The woman stood up and took a few cautious steps toward Desmond. She looked intently at him and he looked into her eyes. They were brown, deeper than Desmond's own hazel eyes, and she had thick brown hair. Her facial features were square and symmetrical, but at the same time soft. She was dressed in tattered clothing that looked more suited for venturing through the jungle than being in the mountains. Had they not been trapped by the Black Dragon, Desmond was sure he would probably have asked her out.

     "Olivia Smith," the woman said. "I'm a reporter from America."

     "How did you get here...Olivia?" Desmond asked, not taking his eyes off of her complexion.

     "I was digging a little too deep," Olivia answered, turning her back to Desmond. "I was doing a story on the Black Dragon because in recent years they've been showing increased levels of activity."

     Desmond scanned the several scars that he saw on Olivia's arms, "Active?"

     "They're usually dormant," Olivia continued. "But then they...bombed Platinum Tower."

     "WHAT?" Desmond said, way too loudly. "They did what to my home?"

     Olivia dismissed Desmond, "You're a billionaire, just buy a new one."

     "Do you realize how much...how much stuff I had in there?" Desmond whispered. "My antique car collection..."

     "I don't care," Olivia said sharply. "I have no sympathy for you Mr. Pierce. Your brash fanatics are the reason why they targeted you. Platinum Tower's bombing was your fault."

     Desmond rolled his eyes, "You women...all of you are the same."

     Olivia's eyes widened, "What did you call me?"

     "You always blame everything on me," Desmond continued getting irritated. "You think I planned this? It's not my fault! You're just like that one from—" Desmond was cut off as he was slapped in the face.

     "Don't you ever speak to me like that again," Olivia said threateningly. "I am not just a woman."

     Desmond rubbed his face, "Well..."

     "Shut up in there!" a voice said from the hall. "Mr. Pierce, are you talking again?!"

     "N-No sir," Desmond mumbled, once more huddling on his cot. "I-I'm sorry sir."

     Olivia squinted her eyes at Desmond, "You're pathetic."

     Desmond looked up at Olivia, "You know, why don't you get injected and experimented on and then let's see how you feel."

     Olivia's eyes widened, "Wait...what did you say?"

     "Experimentation," Desmond repeated. "Or...whatever I don't know. They just strapped me to a chair and...tortured me."

     Olivia knelt next to Desmond, "What did they inject you with?"

     "I don't know," Desmond said, annoyed that she was probing his mind, "some...blue-liquid or something."

     "Project Bellator," Olivia whispered worriedly.

     "Why?" Desmond asked, remembering Harrison's words. "What's Project Bellator?"

     "Human enhancement," Olivia answered while she wrung her hands nervously.

     "What, like in comic books?" Desmond asked. "Like super soldiers or whatever?"

     Olivia shook her head, "Worse..."

     She walked over to the far side of the cell and stared out the window. The cool air whipped against her face and she sighed. Desmond huddled for warmth, questioning how Olivia could even stand in the dreaded spot.

     "Do you know where we are?" Olivia asked.

     Desmond shook his head, "Do I look like I know? I tried to find out but..." he trailed off as he remembered the unfortunate captive.

     Olivia shook her head, "Of all the cells, I had to be thrown into the one with Desmond Pierce."

     "Come on!" Desmond protested. "Yeah, I'm a little rough around the edges...but I'm not that bad of a guy."

     Olivia glared at him from across the room, "I'm not talking to you anymore."

     Desmond rolled his eyes and he stuck his hands in-between his legs for warmth, "Fine, be that way."

     Hours passed and the two sat on either side of the room. Desmond rocked back and forth while Olivia stared at the wall. She made no attempt to escape, but perhaps it was because she knew it would have been of no use. The two sat in a painfully awkward silence for sometime, with the only sounds coming from the window, when all of a sudden:

     "Mr. Pierce," a voice said from the wall, "your time has come."

     "No!" Desmond protested, shrinking back to the wall. "N-Not again! P-Please not again!"

     The door creaked open and the same dreaded man walked through grinning mischievously. He grabbed Desmond's shoulders and dragged him across the room.

     "W-Wait!" Desmond protested. "P-Please!" Desmond struggled and gasped.

     "Stop!" the man said before he called out to another guard. "Harrison wants the girl too, so grab her!"

     Desmond was forcefully dragged out of the cell and down the daunting hallway. He saw lights on the ceiling and he began to cry as he was thrown into the same chair as before. His arms were strapped down and several wires were connected to his skin.

     "Please..." Desmond begged, tears rolling down his face. "I don't want the pain..."

     Olivia was thrown into the chair next to him and strapped down likewise. She struggled but the man smacked her in the face...she struggled no more.

     Desmond's breathing intensified when Dr. Harrison walked into the room wearing a sly grin, "You..." Desmond whispered.

     "Mr. Pierce," Dr. Harrison replied. "I have been looking forward to our next meeting."

     He made his way over to a desk and retrieved a blue-syringe. Harrison then walked over to Olivia and injected her with it.

     "Subject B," Harrison said soothingly, "has not had Mr. Pierce's privilege of being prepped before Phase 2. It'll be interesting if she survives."

     Olivia's entire body seized when the serum took hold and Desmond could only watch as Harrison tortured her the same way he tortured him. He closed his eyes and tried to block out her blood-curdling screams, but to no avail. His mind would forever be etched with the image of Olivia writhing in her chair.

     "Prep Mr. Pierce," Harrison said, continuing to torture Olivia.

     Another doctor, possibly his assistant, retrieved another blue syringe and walked over to Desmond. Desmond tried to struggle one final time before the serum was injected.

     "Argh!" Desmond screamed, his body turning white-hot.

     "Now," Dr. Harrison mused, "let's bring them to Phase 2."

     Desmond sobbed as Harrison went over to the monitors and flipped several different switches. His assistant continued to shock Olivia in the same manner that had been done to Desmond. She screamed and begged him to stop, but underneath his face mask Desmond swore he could see a smile etched into the assistant's face.

     "3...." Harrison announced, putting his hand on a lever, "2...."

     Desmond looked over at Olivia who was slumped over in her chair. She probably was not even alive anymore. He thought about what she had said, about him being there as a result of his own faults and the reason someone hated America.

     "It's my fault," Desmond whispered with realization and, for the first time in nearly twenty years, he felt guilt.

     "1..." Dr. Harrison ended, pulling down on the lever.

     Pain, pure and unadulterated, coursed through his body like never before. He gritted his teeth, trying not to bite his tongue, as the world once again turned white. His body writhed out of his control, tearing at the bondages that would not give. Tears swept down Desmond's face, mixing with the pool of blood dripping from his mouth; he had bitten his tongue.

     "Now," Dr. Harrison said over his and Olivia's screams, "let's see the extent to which the human life can linger before it is extinguished. Take notes!"

     Desmond thrashed as the pain intensified, destroying everything that had ever been him. Images flashed before his eyes: his boyhood, the bombings, him growing up without his parents, and the emotional torment he had gone through for years. He saw himself with countless therapists and he saw himself abandoning the old man outside Platinum Tower. Desmond saw himself getting taken away and meeting Olivia.

     "You're the reason why he hates America," she had said.

     Desmond's body began to writhe and move...but not externally. His body was beginning to change and intensify. But it brought on so much pain that Desmond could feel himself losing consciousness and the darkness was beginning to press in upon him.

     "Son," a voice said next to him.

     Desmond looked and saw a flickering image of a man with neatly combed-back hair and hazel eyes.

     "Dad..." Desmond whispered.

**

19 Years Previously...     

     "Dad!" a ten-year-old Desmond wailed in the crumbling building. "Dad!"

     The ceiling began to crack and Desmond ducked down when several pieces fell from the ceiling. He could hear shouts and yells as people began to recover and witness the horror that was happening around them. Desmond could see one through the curling dust turn around and point somewhere.

     "Hello?" one of them said. "Anybody?"

     "Help me!" Desmond screamed, more of the ceiling falling. "Help me!"

     "There!" one of them said. "It's a boy!"

     "Help him!" another yelled.

     Desmond could see people running towards him, dodging the piles of wreckage that had accumulated around them. He saw one of them approach him and try to pick him up.

     "Dad!" Desmond screamed as he was torn away from the corpse.

     "What?" the figure said, turning around. "Dad? Oh..."

     "Is he alright?" someone asked.

     "He's Aaron's son," replied the man, continuing to pry Desmond away.

     "Where's Aaron?" a woman asked.

     "He's..." but the man holding Desmond trailed off.

     He was taken through the wreckage and out of the building. There was a crowd of people outside asking to know what was going on. A police squadron had formed and firefighters were already throwing themselves inside looking for survivors.

     "It's going to be okay," the man holding Desmond said. "You're safe now..."

     He put him down and turned back to go inside. Desmond never saw the man's face or ever learned of his identity. He was, and always would be, the man that saved Desmond.

     Because moments later the building collapsed.

**

     "There are going to be times...that you are going to be so very afraid. There are going to be times when you are just going to want to throw it all away. But Desmond...my son...you must go on."

     The words echoed throughout Desmond's ears, becoming the only thing he could hear.

     "My son," Desmond's father had said. "My son..."

**

Present Day

     As Desmond lay on the brink of death, staring into the hazel eyes of his father, something inside of him snapped. He had to survive, and he had to go on.

     "My father," Desmond whispered. "My father..."

     Then, a feeling of extraordinary strength coursed through his body. He snapped through the bondages holding him in place and screamed as he tore the wires from his body. Anger washed through his being and he flipped the chair he was sitting in against the wall.

     "What?" Dr. Harrison asked, bewildered. "It...worked!"

     Desmond stood up, feeling slightly taller than he remembered himself being, and glared at Dr. Harrison.

     "Mr. Pierce!" Dr. Harrison exclaimed with obvious joy on his face. "It worked! The serum worked!"

     Desmond could not control himself as he lashed out at the doctor he loathed and threw him against the monitors. The force was so great that he smashed through one of the computers and sparks flew in every direction. Immediately, Olivia's wails calmed down and she slumped over in her chair. Desmond ran over, tore the bondages from Olivia, and looked into her eyes.

     "Olivia?" Desmond asked worriedly.

     "I..." Olivia gasped.

     Desmond turned around, sensing another presence. The assistant was running out of the room. Desmond cradled Olivia in his arms and ran out of the dreaded room as well, not knowing where he was going.

     "Desmond..." Olivia mumbled, her eyes flickering open, "why are there...colors?"

     "Hang in there," Desmond breathed while he tore through the complex. "You aren't in your right state of mind."

     An alarm sounded and there were shouts. Desmond halted and ran down another hallway.

     "You're shrouded," Olivia moaned, "in darkness."

     "Stay with me!" Desmond cried before he sprinted down another hallway.

     "There he is!" a voice yelled.

     Desmond skidded to a stop, searching for a way out. He had to keep Olivia safe from possible gunfire so he placed her behind some kind of a cylinder. When he heard the voices again he turned around to face the armed guards.

     "Whoa!" he heard one of them say.

     "Is that Desmond Pierce?" another asked.

     Desmond looked to the side and saw his reflection in the cylinder next to him. His body was utterly ripped with muscle, a feature that had not been there before. Desmond took a second to gaze at his new-found body that was brimming with energy, and then he turned towards the men.

     "Stay back!" one of the exclaimed when Desmond took a step forward.

     "You're the Black Dragon," Desmond whispered. "Die..."

     Anger exploded inside him as he lunged at the soldiers and tore at them madly. He swung out with his fists and easily took two of them down before turning on the others. Desmond grasped a soldier's gun and tore it from his grasp. He then smacked him in the face, sending him toppling onto another soldier, and turned around firing bullets into the other men. The entire fight lasted only a couple of seconds, but Desmond had managed to take out five armed guards. He looked at one and gasped when he saw blood seeping from his wounds.

     "I...killed him," Desmond whispered, staggering. He had never killed someone before nor had he ever had the wish. The anger and resentment had just been so strong that it had overpowered his humane sense to keep them alive.

     Desmond looked at his muscular forearms and, for the first time, feared himself. What had they turned him into?

     "Desmond..." Olivia gasped from behind the cylinder, "what's happening?"

     Desmond ran by her side and helped her up, "How're you feeling?"

     "My head's beginning to clear," Olivia groaned, "but I still feel...so weak..."

     Desmond supported her on him and they walked as fast as they could to a nearby door.

     "Does that lead outside?" Olivia gasped.

     "I hope so," Desmond answered.

     He opened the door and braced himself against the frigid gust that blew in. Then, he and Olivia ran out into the exterior compound.