**Crane's Wings Main Facility - Surgery Level - One Week Later**
The surgery level had been designed for efficiency rather than comfort. Sterile white walls, bright overhead lights that eliminated shadows, multiple operating tables arranged in rows like an assembly line, and equipment that ranged from legitimate medical instruments to modifications that would make any ethics board physically ill.
William stood at his primary table, his hands moving with the impossible precision his Quirk granted, manipulating flesh and bone and neural tissue like clay. His sinister mask couldn't hide the intensity in his eyes, the focused mania of someone doing work he genuinely loved, work that others would call monstrous but that he viewed as art.
Around him, his team worked with similar dedication. Underworld docs, surgeons, those banned from proper practices each one a criminal. They'd learned to work in synchronized rhythm with William, anticipating his needs, providing instruments before he asked, and maintaining the sterile environment despite the disturbing nature of their work.
The subject on the table had once been a teenage hero student from England, part of the recent payment from Joker for the toxin Crane provided.
William had removed most of his higher brain functions, leaving only the motor cortex and basic autonomic systems. The frontal lobe, responsible for personality, decision-making, and moral reasoning, had been carefully excised and preserved in a jar for a later experiment that maybe could unlock a type of immortality.
What remained was a body that could move, respond to simple commands, perform tasks, but couldn't think, couldn't question, couldn't resist.
"complete," William announced, his voice muffled by the mask but clear enough for his team. "Proceeding with physical modifications. We need these drones to be stronger than baseline human, more durable, capable of sustained labor in the underground expansion without fatigue."
His hands moved to the subject's muscular system, injecting chemicals that would modify tissue density, increase fast-twitch muscle fiber percentage, and enhance oxygen uptake efficiency. The modifications were crude by high-end standards but effective when this subject was activated, he'd be approximately three times stronger than before, with stamina that could sustain heavy labor for twenty hours at a stretch.
"Subject nineteen of the new arrivals complete," one of William's assistants reported from another table. "Sending to tunnel sector seven for construction duties."
"Excellent."
Suguro Crane observed from the observation gallery above the surgery floor, standing behind reinforced glass that let him watch without interfering. He'd been documenting William's techniques for over an hour, taking notes on his tablet, analyzing the efficiency of the conversion process.
Nineteen subjects were converted in a few days. The Joker's "payment" was proving extremely valuable.
Most of these drones were being deployed to the underground network, the secret heart of Crane's Wings' operations. What had started as a single basement laboratory had evolved over eighteen months into something far more ambitious: an entire subterranean complex, thousands of feet below Gotham's surface, spanning what would eventually be the equivalent of a small town.
The drones did the dangerous work: excavation, reinforcement, construction. They worked in shifts around the clock, never complaining, never resting beyond what their modified bodies required, slowly carving out Suguro's vision of a completely self-sufficient underground fortress.
Labs, living quarters, weapons caches, storage vaults, training facilities, prison cells for particularly valuable captives, all of it hidden beneath Gotham's islands and streets, accessible only through carefully concealed entrances that could be sealed completely if heroes or rivals got too close.
"Subject twenty for conversion," another assistant announced, wheeling in a new table with a unconscious girl strapped to it.
William moved to that table with practiced efficiency, beginning the same process. His assembly line of horror is ready to continue.
But as the assistant wheeled in subject twenty, William paused.
This subject was different.
Like the others she was a captured hero school student, with the most distinctive physical features Suguro had seen outside of extreme mutation Quirks. Her skin wasn't just pale; it was patterned in stark black and white, creating a skull-like appearance across her face and visible on her arms and neck. The pattern was natural, not tattoos, suggesting a mutation Quirk that had manifested dramatically.
And unlike the previous subjects who'd been crying or pathetically begging for their lives this girl was calm. Her eyes were open, tracking the room's occupants, taking in the surgery theater and its horrible contents with an expression that Suguro couldn't immediately identify.
Not terror. Not even obvious fear. Just… resignation? Acceptance? Something colder than he'd expected from someone about to be stripped of their hummanity and converted into a mindless drone.
One of Jaina's duplicates had brought her in and moved to secure the girl to the operating table, but Suguro's voice from the observation gallery stopped the process.
"Wait."
Everyone in the surgery theater paused, looking up at the observation window. Crane rarely interrupted William's work he trusted the surgeon's expertise and preferred not to interfere with established procedures.
"Bring her to me," Suguro continued, his voice amplified through the intercom system. "Before any modifications. I want to speak with her."
William's expression, what could be seen of it around the mask, showed surprise and curiosity. "She's scheduled for standard drone conversion. Is there a problem with the subject?"
"I'll explain if I need to just bring her to me." Crane said staring down into the lab
**Ten Minutes Later**
The girl sat in one chair, her distinctive skull-patterned skin making her look like death wearing human features. Her hands were secured in restraints, not that she could truly do anything to him anyway, just protocol.
She watched Crane enter with the same emotionless expression she'd shown in the surgery theater. No begging, no crying. It was like she was studying him as much as he was studying her.
Suguro sat across from her, setting his tablet on the table, pulling up her intake file that Jaina's duplicate had compiled.
"You're not afraid," Suguro said, studying her face.
"Should I be?" Her voice was steady, clear, with a slight Irish accent that showed her origins from that doomed British hero class. "Fear doesn't change anything. I saw what you do to people in that room, being afraid wouldn't make any of that different."
"You're either extremely good at controlling your fear response, or you genuinely don't feel appropriate levels of fear." Suguro leaned forward slightly. "Which is it?"
The girl considered this question carefully before answering. "I feel fear. I'm scared right now, actually, but when that clown was killing my friends and sold us to you I learned that showing fear just makes things worse. Predators target the obviously afraid, so I got good at hiding it, at presenting calm even when I'm not."
"Interesting." Suguro made a note on his tablet. "That suggests both high intelligence and adaptive survival instincts. Most people can't maintain that kind of control under extreme stress… You're most unusual."
"So are you, from what I've heard in all the places we have been held." She tilted her head, the skull pattern on her face making the gesture somehow more unsettling.
"And yet you're not showing obvious signs of the heightened paranoia that my reputation usually creates." Suguro's interest was increasing. "What's your name?"
"Silver."
"And your Quirk? The skull pattern is obviously manifestation, but what does it do?"
Silver hesitated, clearly weighing whether honesty served her interests. Then, apparently deciding she had nothing to lose: "Banshee's Voice. I can control sound, create sonic blasts, modulate frequencies to change my voice, my old teachers even said I might be able to even teleport short distances through sound waves but I have no idea how that would work honestly, and I can learn any language after minimal exposure, including animal communication."
Suguro's mind immediately calculated potential applications. Sonic powers were valuable on their own but this girl represented significant untapped potential.
"If I offered you a choice," Suguro said slowly, watching her reaction carefully, "between being converted into a mindless drone who performs labor until we decide to recycle your body for parts, or serving me and remaining yourself would you choose?"
Silver's expression shifted for the first time, surprise, quickly controlled, followed by calculated consideration.
"you follow orders, you participate in operations that most people would consider criminal or immoral. You become complicit in everything we do. And if you betray us, the consequences are significantly worse than simple death." Suguro's voice remained flat. "But you maintain your mind, your personality and your ability to make decisions."
"And if I say no?"
"Then William will do something far worse than death or destruction of the mind" he looked over to a computer like machine across the room with a fully intact brain floating ominously
Silver took a deep breath, then met Suguro's eyes directly. "I'll join."
"I think you will find that you made the correct choice" Suguro made a note on his tablet, then looked up at the camera in the corner. "William, are you monitoring?"
William's voice came through the room's speaker system: "Confirmed. I assume subject twenty is being reassigned?"
"Correct. She's joining as Silver, new member. Halt standard drone conversions for the remaining subjects for today we can finish off the rest tomorrow."
"Understood. Congratulations on not getting lobotomized, Silver." the surgeon said in a voice Silver couldn't determine as congratulatory, disdain, or threatening.
The speaker clicked off, and Suguro stood, gesturing for one of the Jaina duplicates who'd been waiting outside to enter.
Suguro led Silver through tunnels deeper into the facility's structure. The Jaina duplicate followed several paces behind, silent and observant. Silver's restraints had been removed, though she understood implicitly that attempting escape would be both futile and fatal.
"Consider this my personal test to your agreement," Suguro said as they descended a metal staircase. "I need to know if your choice was genuine or simply survival instinct masquerading as cooperation."
"What kind of test?"
"The kind that reveals who you actually are when faced with your past."
They reached a reinforced door marked with hazard warnings and security protocols. Suguro pressed his palm to the biometric scanner, and the locks disengaged with a heavy mechanical thunk. The door swung open to reveal a holding area: a large cell with reinforced glass walls, minimal furniture, and ten occupants who looked up with desperate, hollow eyes.
The last of Silver's former classmates who had survived their kidnapping, the time in hell with that clown and now their final destination in this underground base.
The recognition was immediate and explosive.
"SILVER!" A girl with vine-like hair extensions lunged toward the glass, pressing her palms against it. "Oh god, Silver, please! Please help us! Tell them we'll cooperate, we'll do anything, just please don't let them—"
"She's with them now, you idiot," another student spat, a boy with metallic scales across his shoulders. But his bitterness dissolved instantly into pleading. "Silver, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Please, we were friends, remember? We trained together, we— please just tell them we'll be useful, we'll work, we'll—"
The cacophony built rapidly, nine voices overlapping, crying, begging, making promises they couldn't possibly keep, grasping at any thread of hope that Silver's presence represented.
These were the students who'd once strutted through their academy's halls with arrogant confidence. The ones who'd boasted about their future hero rankings, who'd looked down on "weaker" students, who'd treated their Quirks like marks of superiority. Silver remembered their pride, their insufferable egos, the way they'd acted like they were invincible.
Now they were broken. Shattered. Pathetic.
Silver felt something cold settle in her chest as she watched them. Not pity. Something closer to disgust.
"Fascinating," Suguro said quietly beside her, watching both Silver and the captives with equal interest. "They've completely collapse, and yet you're standing there with your spine straight while they grovel."
One boy near the back of the cell hadn't joined the chorus of begging. He sat on a bench, arms wrapped around himself, staring at the floor. His skin had an unusual texture, like woven fabric, with a subtle sheen that suggested durability beyond normal human tissue.
Suguro pointed at him. "That one has a Quirk William finds particularly interesting. Kevlar Skin. His dermal layer is reinforced with the same molecular structure as ballistic armor but even stronger."
The boy's head snapped up, eyes wide with sudden terror.
"William wants to flay him," Suguro continued in the same conversational tone he might use to discuss the weather. "Remove the skin intact, treat it properly, and either graft it onto another to enhance their durability, or process it into wearable armor. A walking source of bulletproof material, really. The applications are quite promising; perhaps we could even clone and farm him."
The boy's face went white. His mouth opened, closed, opened again without sound. Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed sideways off the bench, hitting the floor in a dead faint.
The others saw this and understood immediately what it meant for all of them. The begging intensified, became more frantic, more desperate. Promises of loyalty, offers of service, wild claims about how useful their Quirks could be if they were just allowed to keep them, keep their minds, keep their lives.
"PLEASE, WE'LL DO ANYTHING!"
"I'LL KILL WHOEVER YOU WANT!"
"MY FAMILY HAS MONEY, THEY'LL PAY—"
"SILVER, FOR GOD'S SAKE, YOU CAN'T JUST STAND THERE!"
Something inside Silver snapped.
"SHUT UP!"
Her voice came out with more force than she'd intended, carrying an edge of her Quirk that made the glass crack and the air ring and the two duplicate Jainas standing guard raise their weapons. The sound cut through the chaos like a blade, and her former classmates fell silent, staring at her with shocked, betrayed expressions.
Silver stepped closer to the glass, her skull-patterned face set in hard lines, her eyes blazing with something between anger and contempt.
"Look at yourselves," she said, her voice lower now but no less intense. "You're pathetic. You used to walk around like you owned the world, like your Quirks made you better than everyone else. You were so fucking proud, so arrogant, so sure that you'd be top heroes someday."
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "To lose every shred of dignity, every bit of resolve. You're begging, crying, groveling like animals, and you can't even control yourselves enough to think straight."
"Silver, please—" the vine-haired girl tried again, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm not finished." Silver's voice dropped to something colder. "I made a choice. I didn't lose my mind, I didn't break down, you could have done the same. You could have faced this with some semblance of strength. But instead, you chose this." She gestured at them with disgust. "This... display."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by quiet sobbing from some of the captives. They looked at Silver like she was a stranger, someone they'd never really known.
Maybe they hadn't.
Suguro observed this exchange with evident satisfaction, making notes on his tablet. When Silver finally turned away from the glass, her expression still hard, he met her eyes with something that might have been approval.
"You passed," he said simply.
Silver held his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to show weakness even now. "What happens to them?"
"William will begin his experiments tomorrow morning. The Quirk extraction and transplantation procedures are untested, but the potential applications are worth the risk of failure." Suguro glanced back at the captives one last time.
He turned toward the exit, gesturing for Silver to follow. "Come, you're part of Crane's Wings now. Best not to dwell on what you left behind."
She followed Suguro out of the detention level without looking back.
The door sealed behind them with a sound like a tomb closing