Ben was taken to a secluded room with a hard bed in it.

     "Lay down," Oswald instructed. "I will be back with the proper materials."

     Ben laid on the bed and stared up at the cracked ceiling. His heart beat with nervousness and the blood rushed through his head. As the minutes ticked by, he began to actually second-guess what he was about to do.

     Oswald came into the room with a box from which he unloaded several tubes and wires. Carefully, and with precision, he attached the various instruments to different parts of Ben's body. All he could do was lay on the bed, letting each instrument get attached to him at a time.

     "What are these instruments going to do?" Ben asked, finally.

     "They are going to stimulate your central nervous system," Oswald explained, "while the serum rewrites your genetic code."

     "What will happen after my genetic code is rewritten?" asked Ben, worriedly.

     Oswald shrugged, "Results vary on the person. The serum is...unpredictable."

     Ben tensed up, "Fucking fantastic."

     After a couple more moments, the old man brought in a couple of machines. He turned them on, and then attached a cylinder to a particular instrument. The cylinder was filled with a blue-liquid, and the old man even extracted some with a syringe.

     "So you have a vial of the serum?" asked Ben, watching the blue liquid shimmer.

     "I've always kept a sample of the perfected formula," Oswald explained. "Our process tonight will be crude, but effective nevertheless."

     He tested the syringe, and then disinfected a place on Ben's upper arm.

     "You know," Ben said, "I never asked if you were a doctor or not."

     Oswald nodded his head, "Oh, I used to be."

     "A doctor of what?" asked Ben.

     "Psychology," he replied.

     "Wait, what does that have to do with--" but then he stopped as the serum was injected into his arm and white-hot pain spread throughout his body.

     "Argh!" Ben grunted, tensing up.

     Oswald quickly switched on the machines and prepared to flick a switch.

     "One!" he proclaimed loudly. "Two! Three!"

     He flipped a switch and the machine sprang to life. Electrical stimulation soared up the wires and attacked Ben's nervous system. The world went black as Ben's conscious flickered from the pain. It was ravenous, and it tore through his body like a knife.

     Ben screamed, and his body thrashed about on the bed. The old man switched off the machine, and curiously observed Ben.

     "Is that it?" whispered Ben, his face dripping with sweat.

     Oswald shook his head, "Again!"

     The pain was unbelievable. It went up and down his body as if he were repeatedly getting struck by a thunderbolt. Ben screamed, but he couldn't even hear himself over the screaming that was happening inside his head. The world was fading; it was getting darker.

     Oswald stopped the machine, "No result, again!"

     The world went completely black, and Ben slipped into an odd state. Images danced before his eyes and rippled with a flurry of colors. A bright light seemed to open up above him and he heard a soft voice.

     Diana.

**

     Ben was sitting in his apartment on an old couch with holes in it. The room around him was clean, bright, and fresh. Ben relaxed into the welcoming cushions as he lovingly gazed at his daughter playing in the corner. There was a sense of pride within him as he watched her fiddle with her toys.

     He looked to his right, and sitting next to him was his wife. Diana's hair billowed down in lush curls, her bright eyes eagerly gazing into Ben's, and her lips parting in a slight smile. She blinked, and Ben couldn't help but smile back. Deep within his soul, he felt an unquenchable flurry of love and affection towards his wife. Slowly, Ben reached out and held her hand. The skin was smooth and cool to the touch: perfection.

     "I love you," was all he could say. The words were simple, but they held an undeniable power in the lettering. To him it was the simplest way to convey such deep, emotional, complex feelings that were within.

     Diana reached out and touched Ben's grizzled face. Her small hands passed over his many scars, and the smell of soap wafted through Ben's nostrils. He smiled at the sense of warmth and security that enveloped his senses by the gesture. 

     "I know," Diana whispered, pulling Ben into an embrace.

     He felt her body pressed up against his. The sweet smell of her hair, her steady heart beat, and Diana's small frame gave Ben a sense of peace. It welled up inside of him and washed over like a cool tidal wave. Ben returned the embrace, and he cradled the woman who meant the most to him in the entire world. 

     "Diana," Ben whispered, a tear dripping down his face. "Diana..." 

     But he could feel her fading. Her presence slowly receded like light in the midst of a darkening landscape. The security, happiness, and love faded as the darkness took hold. Fear, desperation, and anger replaced the light.

     "Diana!" Ben screamed. "Hope! Diana!"

     But they were gone. 

**

     It could have just simply been a hallucination, or perhaps it really was Diana speaking to him. Ben wanted nothing more than to let go and drift away towards her harmonic voice.

     But he couldn't.

     The revenge. The Black Dragon. He needed to hold on. Ben couldn't die.

     Failure was not an option.

     The white light faded, and the pain returned in an all-new intensity. However, something inside began to change and spread throughout his body. His eyes opened, and he looked at his spasming arm and watched as the bruises slowly began to fade. The cuts from the Silver Assassin closed, and his wounds began to heal.

     Finally, the pain stopped.

     "It worked," was all he could hear Oswald say.

     Ben breathed heavily, his entire body drenched in sweat. He turned his head and threw up, feeling his stomach lurch with each heave. His lungs burned with exhaustion, and Ben's body trembled as he sat up.

     "What the fuck?" he muttered, looking down at his body.

     The old man's eyes lit up, "My God..."

     They both watched as a cut on Ben's body began to close on its own, refreshing itself with a new layer of skin.

     Then, Ben fainted.

**

One Day Later...

     Ben opened his eyes, seeing that he had been transported to another room. The room he was in was still cluttered with boxes, but a window had been opened to allow some light in. It appeared that he had slept through the night, following the odd ordeal that had happened just the night before.

     He sat up in bed, not feeling any pain for the first time in weeks. His body felt fresh, renewed, and more agile than it had ever felt before. As Ben got out of bed, he no longer felt the weight of his wounds hold him down. A sense of awe spread through Ben as the full realization hit him.

     He had regenerated. That was his ability; his power. There were no more consequences, there was no way he could be beaten, and his ability to die was nonexistent. A feeling of control coursed through Ben's body as he closed his eyes. Awe, determination, and greed flowed through his veins.

     He had also gotten exactly what he had needed.

     There were some clothes folded on the end of the bed. Ben grabbed them, hastily putting them on. As he did so, however, he oddly felt a little dizzy. His senses went on the fritz for a moment before steadying themselves. 

     There was a window in the corner of the room, and Ben hastily opened it up. He slipped on a random pair of shoes that he found and pushed himself up to crawl through the window. His body slipped through, and he landed on the ground outside. For a moment his head was light with a dizziness, but his senses steadied and he made his escape. 

**

     Through the window, Oswald watched Benedict Cain run through his yard. He had been expecting a mad escape, but did nothing to stop it. Oswald had seen the look in Ben's eyes, a look that he had seen in his own. He knew that Ben would use his abilities to stop the Black Dragon.

     Oswald sat at a chessboard, playing a game against himself. He slid a white piece across the board, and he set up a play against the opposing team.

     "Checkmate," he muttered to himself. 

     Checkmate.