CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Just Like Old Times

Otto von Furth was taken to the nearest medical facility, and after being contacted by Robin, the authorities were there to meet the Titan’s arrival with Otto von Furth. Nearby his private hospital bed, a guard was always on watch, ready to keep others out and Otto von Furth in. In the end, the guard turned out to be nothing but a formality—no one entered the hospital room, and Otto von Furth was too ill to even entertain the thought of escape.

The chemical Slade had injected Otto with had poisoned the man greatly, leaving him in miserable condition. Whenever Otto became conscious, he begged to be killed. He didn’t want to risk a new, possibly entrapping, mutation. The hospital’s doctors, and the scientist the hospital brought in for extra treatment, did their best to prevent that from happening. As the days passed, they decided that the dosage of homemade mutagen had not been enough to doom him Treatment continued, and Otto improved.

It wasn’t long before Otto was healthy enough to be taken to a prison for paranormals like himself, and it was there that he awaited his trial, His cell was reinforced to prevent him from escaping in his mutant form, and he was allowed no outdoor time. He ate in his cell and performed any other necessary functions there. A small TV was granted to him, but he made little use of it, or the newspaper slipped into his cell every morning. His only other companions in the building were Overload, and a strange, alien slime monster known only as1029.

Whatever insanity had possessed Otto von Furth during his lust for revenge, it seemed drained of him now. There was talk that after more psychiatric evaluation, some of his prison sentence might be reevaluated, perhaps even shortened. But Otto knew he deserved no such mercy. He knew at least most his actions were more than the product of a lost mind—there were the action of a man consumed by hate.

As the days passed, Otto sat quietly in his cell, mulling over past injustices, remembering a beautiful face that had come to be spattered in blood at his own hands. He sometimes wept, for himself, for his love, even for the Titans, whom he had endangered in his game.

But above all, he wept for himself.

(TT TT TT)

Robin put away the latest entry of the criminal file belonging to Plasmus, aka Otto von Furth, in the cabinet designated only as “P.” Along with the information stored away in the pristine manila folder, there was an identical file on Robin’s personal computer and in the Titans’ mainframe. Robin felt a strange emptiness, now that the fiasco surrounding Otto von Furth was finally over.

In the beginning, when Otto had begun to resist the control of Plasmus and of Slade, Robin had felt hope for this doomed man. Robin had been sure that he could save him. He had been wrong. Otto had gone insane, had ruthlessly dismissed others’ lives in order to get his revenge—only for him to end up sentenced in a maximum-security prison. It was an empty, sad denouement to a story that could have had a more uplifting ending.

“I’m sorry, Otto,” Robin said softly, a sigh to his voice. “I tried to save you—but you just wouldn’t let me.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Raven’s voice spoke up from behind him.

Not surprised this time, Robin turned to face the girl. Raven was standing in the doorway to the file room. Robin immediately flashed back to the night Otto had been arrested. Raven had to be carried home to heal herself of her fractured ribs. It has taken all night from start to finish.

Robin gave her an almost defeated sigh, bowing his head. “Well, you were right about him, Raven—you usually are. There was no hope for him after all.”

“I was right and wrong,” Raven answered graciously. She walked into the room, her cloak trailing behind her. “I said Otto couldn’t defeat the monster inside of him, the creature that controlled him—and I was wrong. Plasmus was defeated. But another monster just grew in its place.” She touched the filing cabinet that stored Otto von Furth’s criminal history, and looked up at Robin with her lavender, knowing eyes. “But there’s nothing wrong with hoping,” she told him. “I just couldn’t see what you could.”

Robin gave her a small smile, and, looking down at the floor, nodded. Raven returned a smile of her own. “At least it’s over now,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Robin said. “At least it’s over.”

And almost unconsciously, he glanced over at another cabinet, this one housing all of the files marked away under “S.” An involuntary frown came over his masked face.

For some other adversaries, he thought, the fight was never over…

(TT TT TT)

The prison break happened just after midnight, a traditional time for bold actions.

Cinderblock crashed through the previously-assumed prison building, not needing or desiring subtlety for his mission. In one large fist was a gun-like object, created just for his own special handhold. Cinderblock barely registered the gunfire that tore across his large frame as he marched through the prison, brushing the police officers and guards aside with terrifying ease. He grabbed one of the guards, however, lifting the shrieking man into the air by the back of his clothing, and carried him effortlessly along as he trudged through the prison. Cinderblock walked toward the door marked with the numbers 12589, and, using only one threatening growl, managed to convince the trembling man to open the door.

Inside the room was Otto von Furth, sitting on his bed. In an orange prison uniform, Otto looked both broken and afraid to see the menacing form of Cinderblock outside his doorway. “No,” he said, as Cinderblock raised his weapon and fired. A stunning blast caught Otto von Furth dead-on, and the man collapsed into unconsciousness.

Otto von Furth awoke an un-estimated amount of time later, and had an immediate feeling of déjà vu. A steel table lay beneath him, and his arms and legs were stretched out to each end painfully, shackled down by metallic hand cuffs. Above him hung a blinding white light, making his eyes water with its intensity. Immediately, Otto concentrated on his mutant form, so that he could effortlessly bleed his way out of his restraints. There was a tight, painful sensation in his skull. Otto tried to ignore it, but it continued, and he couldn’t transform. He tried again and again, but was met with the same result. Becoming apprehensive now, Otto began to pull on the handcuffs that held him down.

“Don’t bother,” a rich, smooth voice told him. “Those cuffs are magnetized.”

Otto’s heart beat forcibly against his chest, and his skin began to sweat. A moment later, Slade’s masked face appeared above him. The light shining down from the ceiling refracted off the man’s helmet, creating a contradictory halo around his head. Next to Slade appeared his butler, dressed in his usual white suit.

“Hello, Otto,” Slade said conversationally. “Funny how we keep meeting each other like this.”

“You can’t keep me here,” Otto told him. “I can just—”

“Just what?” Slade asked him, amused. “Just turn into the slime that you are and escape this little setup I have been preparing for you? I think not, Otto. But you are welcome to try, if you wish.”

“Oh, I do wish!” Otto hissed, and again he concentrated on his alternate form. Nothing happened. He frowned in confusion—and panic. Why couldn’t he change?

“Brain inhibitor,” Slade explained to him. “Placed right here—” The man slid his hand beneath Otto’s neck, and touched a small device that was injected at the base of Otto’s skull. Otto let out a small gasp of pain. “Don’t worry,” Slade told him, an invisible laugh in his voice. He drew his hand away. “I will take it out, later. But for now, it will allow me the time I need to…set the record straight with you.”

Otto shuddered involuntarily, and again began to pull helplessly at his magnetized bonds.

Slade didn’t acknowledge his feeble struggle. “I’m afraid, Otto, that you missed out on your chance to be rid of me. Now, I, on the other hand—” Slade snapped his fingers together, and a moment later Wintergreen produced a syringe loaded with a familiar green chemical. The butler delivered it into Slade’s waiting hand, while Otto von Furth stared at it in disbelieving shock. “…I have the power over you once more,” Slade finished.

“No…” Otto said, staring at the syringe. “That’s not possible…”

“Isn’t it?” Slade questioned. “All I had to do was study the half of your compound that I saved when I left you to the Titans. Once I possessed the compound’s formula, I could create my own supply—even tweak it a bit if I desired.” Slade gave Otto a patronizing smile. “You’re not a bad scientist, Otto, but your little concoction was in need of some desperate adjustments. Otherwise your original mutagen would have done its job on you with just half a dose, like mine can.” Slade pulled back the compressor on the syringe. “But let’s give you the full amount, just for fun.”

Otto shook his head frantically as Wintergreen stepped around the table, coming beside him. Wintergreen reached down and gripped Otto’s hair and jaw, pulling his head back and exposing his pale neck.

“I was most….hurt, Otto,” Slade told him, “when you decided to sentence me to a fate worse than death. I did not appreciate your style of self-righteous justice at all. It has troubled me for some time.”

Slade searched the man’s neck for a good vein to use. “But I am willing to forgive you, Otto,” he said. “I will forget all of your past grievances against me. In fact, you may even come to work for me again.”

“No…” Otto protested, his struggling compromised by Wintergreen’s steely grip. “No…!”

Slade lowered the syringe to the man’s neck. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Things will be just like old times.” With a push of is finger, the green liquid entered its victim. “So let me just say, Otto…welcome back.”

—THE END—