The metal room was cold in a way that didn't just seep into the skin — it bit. Every breath left a thin fog in the air before vanishing into the oppressive dimness. The walls were thick slabs of steel, dull gray and lifeless except for the occasional streak of rust where time had chewed away at the Cadmus craftsmanship. No windows. No clock. No sign of life except for the ragged, shallow breaths of Mark Desmond.
He sat, back in human form, tied up with cables. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, his once-impeccable lab coat now smeared with grime and blood. His eyes darted everywhere — the floor, the walls, the shadows in the corners — but they always came back to the same point.
The figure looming over him.
Zane, also human form, stood close enough for Desmond to smell the faint metallic tang of his Robo-Arm. The cold gleam of polished steel caught the light whenever he shifted, the subtle hum of servos like the purr of a predator sizing up its prey. His other hand hung loose at his side, but his eyes — those dark, unwavering eyes — told Desmond there was nothing loose about his intent.
"Where is she?" Zane's voice was low. Calm.
Desmond let out a hoarse laugh that caught halfway and dissolved into a cough. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor between them, an act of defiance that looked far more pitiful than he'd intended.
"You're wasting your time," he rasped.
Zane's expression didn't change, but the mechanical whir of his arm grew louder. The claws slid out with a harsh SHNK, each steel talon glinting under the overhead light. The air seemed to thicken.
With sudden, brutal precision, Zane's clawed grip locked around Desmond's right wrist. Bone and metal collided — then came the twist. A wet, cracking pop echoed in the chamber, followed by Desmond's scream tearing through the air like shrapnel. It bounced off the walls, sharp and ugly, refusing to die out.
Desmond thrashed, scraping against the floor. The veins stood out in his neck, eyes screwed shut against the agony.
Zane leaned in, so close that the warm gust of his breath hit Desmond's cheek. "You better start talking." he said, voice as sharp as the claws digging into flesh. "I'm pretty new to this, so I dont mind going for sensitive places."
Desmond's breathing turned ragged, uneven. He didn't answer. His head lolled forward, chin touching his chest. Whether it was stubbornness or an attempt to pass out, Zane didn't care.
In one motion, Zane grabbed the front of Desmond's bloodied coat, yanked him upright, and slammed him back into the wall. The steel frame rattled, the cuffs bit into Desmond's skin, and a fresh spatter of blood painted the floor as he coughed violently.
"No, Please...you cant do this..!," Desmond wheezed.
"This is what you've been doind to other's. This, is just Karma," Zane snapped, slamming his prosthetic fist into Desmond's gut. The blow landed with a sickening thud, folding the man over as air and bile shot from his lungs. Then another. And another. The strikes weren't clean, weren't the disciplined hits of a trained interrogator — they were raw, sloppy, and vicious, the kind that came from somewhere deep in the chest, driven by something older than the moment.
The room filled with the rhythm of violence: grunts, wet impacts, the sound of flesh giving way under relentless force.
Between punches, Zane growled, "You'll tell me… or I'll make sure you wish you did."
Desmond's head jerked back against the wall. His lips trembled, not from defiance but from the cracking foundation of it. Finally, through a pained wheeze, the words stumbled out.
"She's… in Washington. Cadmus facility. Locked down tight. Sublevel four."
Zane's breathing slowed, but his grip stayed iron-clad. "Room number."
"Four-one-seven," Desmond croaked. "High-security labs. But its already too late, by the time you get there she'll already be gone."
Zane's smirk was thin, humorless. "Figures."
He let Desmond drop, the man slumping like a discarded puppet. The silence that followed was heavy — the kind of silence that knew it was temporary.
---
Outside the steel door, Artemis stood like a wall of her own. Bow drawn, stance firm, every muscle tight. Her ears picked up the faint echoes of violence from within, each thud telling her Zane was still working the problem his way.
Her heart was pounding," What the hell is Zane doing in there..!"
Footsteps thundered down the hall.
Green Arrow and Speedy appeared at the far end, their eyes narrowing the instant they saw her blocking the way. Both had arrows nocked before she even finished exhaling.
'Shit, the Robin hoods are here!' Artemis growled in frustration at the sight of Green Arrow and Speedy.
"Hey, move aside," Green Arrow said, his voice carrying the edge of command that came from too many years leading teams into places like this.
"I'm not letting you through," Artemis replied, voice steady.
Speedy scoffed. "You really think you can stop us?"
"Zane, status," she whispered.
"Almost done," came the rasping reply.
Her eyes darted between the heroes and the sealed door behind her. Every second she held them back was another second Zane had to finish.
---
Green Arrow loosed the first shot — fast, precise, a warning. Artemis twisted aside, the arrow hissing past her ear and embedding into the bulkhead. She drew and released in a single motion, her arrow thudding into the floor inches from his boot.
"Seriously, dont you guys have other thing to do," she questioned in frustration.
Speedy lunged forward, loosing a rapid volley. Artemis rolled low, coming up on one knee as her arrow deflected his next shot midair with a sharp clack.
The hallway became chaos. Arrows whistled past, boots scuffed against the floor, and the air rang with the metallic scrape of shafts glancing off walls and doorframes.
Artemis kept moving, never giving them a clean shot. She wasn't trying to win — just hold the line.
But experience had weight. And Green Arrow had years more of it than she did.
As for Sleedy? She doesn't take him seriously.
---
Inside, Zane was already shifting his prosthetic. With a low mechanical whir, the claws retracted, replaced by the matte-black muzzle of a ballistic weapon. The design was compact, efficient, built for execution rather than intimidation.
Desmond's eyes went wide,"Wa..waai..waii..let me tell you something! Let me tell you something!!"
"No more games," Zane said, voice a little amused at the unintentional meme.
The muzzle pressed against Desmond's temple. A soft click — then K-THOOM!
The sound filled the chamber, sharp and final. Desmond went still.
---
Back in the hall, Artemis's guard slipped for just a fraction of a second. Green Arrow caught her ankle with a low sweep, sending her sprawling. She hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her. Speedy was on her instantly, twisting her arms behind her back until pain sparked in her shoulders.
"Zane…" she hissed into the comm, fighting the hold. "They got me. They're coming. You better hurry."
---
Inside, Zane heard the words and smiled grimly. "Glad I brought you," he muttered to himself. "Otherwise those two would've broken down the door hours ago."
He stepped back from Desmond's body, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek. The steel muzzle of his arm rotated upward, clicking into position beneath his chin.
The door slammed open. Green Arrow and Speedy charged in, weapons raised — but froze at the sight before them.
Zane stood tall, smiling like a man who had already won. He lifted his free hand and gave them a lazy wave.
"Hey, guys," he said, voice almost cheerful. "Catch you on the flip side."
BANG!
The world went black.
---
And in the darkness between moments, Zane's mind snapped backward, rewinding past the blood, the fight, the capture — back to his comfortable mattress once again.
Only this time, he could skip some levels.
...
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/Williamstewart ]
Author Note.
Since most of you have voted for single female lead, we gotta decide on who it will be. I kind wrote this wanting to do a small harem, with Artemis being the first girl. Now since it can only be one, I don't really feel like Artemis is right anymore. You choose.
1. Artemis
2. Raven
3. Supergirl
4. Own