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"Look, baby. I am what I am, and I do what I do. A few guys make shoelaces, some lay sod, and others make a very good living neutering animals. I'm a cop!"
- Frank Drebin (The Naked Gun 33⅓: The Final Insult)
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<(Bruce Wayne POV)>
"Very well. My conditions are simple. First, tell me where the real Diana is being held. Then, I was hoping you could walk me through the method to reverse the body swap. And yes, I know you're inhabiting Diana's body—not just mimicking her appearance. Every scan confirms it: her biosignature is intact. If you cooperate, I'll let you walk out of here unharmed. You have my word. That's my offer." My tone was steady, impassive, even though I had no real intention of keeping any part of that promise.
"Impatient, aren't you? Haven't even asked my name, and already you're talking about what you plan to do with my body. That reckless charm suits you, Bruce Wayne." She smiled with a sultry air, her gaze drifting deliberately over my armored body. "But I'll play along. Courtesy matters, after all. Maybe you've heard of me—my name does carry some weight." She extended her arms outward like she was presenting herself to a crowd in some beauty pageant. "I'm Circe. One of the oldest weavers of magic and the former Witch Queen of the Amazons. One of the most powerful sorceresses this world has ever known."
"... Ah. So no one important. Got it." I gave a nod, recalling her from one of the few DC animated movies I'd seen back in my old life—The Creature Commandos. "Now, do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?" I asked as I pulled out a uniquely designed collar and what looked like a segmented, metal centipede-like device from a nearby cabinet.
"And what exactly do you plan to do with those? Something perverse, perhaps? Playing out some twisted petplay while making me wear that collar?" Circe laughed, eyes gleaming with mockery. "Tell me, is that it? Are you planning to claim Diana's defenseless body for yourself and indulge in all those dark, depraved urges you've buried for so long? She'll never know, right?" Her voice turned cold. "But whatever you are imagining in your perverted little mind, you won't be able to lay a finger on me... well, not the real me at least. Not really. I can discard this body whenever I choose. But tell me, will poor Diana ever forgive you for destroying hers?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Honesty, I don't care. So, it doesn't really change what comes next." I replied, then flicked the collar forward like a discus. It passed straight through the force field and slipped neatly through the bars, slamming against her neck and snapping into place with a metallic hiss as it locked and tightened before she could even react.
"That collar's custom-built. Aside from suppressing metahuman powers, it contains a calibrated antimatter charge—just enough to reduce Diana's demigod form to atoms. And if that's not enough, there's also a micro ghost bomb woven in. Ectoplasmic disruption tech. It'll vaporize your astral essence, soul, or whatever else you want to call it. Once this body's gone, the 'real' you dies with it." A small red light suddenly blinked to life on the collar as if confirming my words.
"And that's just the beginning. It can channel high-voltage shocks capable of frying your entire nervous system in milliseconds. But my favorite feature is a modified sonic taser. Overloads the nerves, messes with your respiration, and triggers cramps all over your body as you've never known by straining your circulatory and sensory system—basically, a torture device without leaving scars. Almost feels illegal to use." I pressed the control on my bracelet.
"Hhuff—" Circe didn't even manage to scream before her limbs froze and her skin went pale, her blood vessels visibly straining against her skin due to the sonic pulse being emitted by the collar.
"I'm not planning to use the antimatter or ghost bomb—yet. But the shock system and sonic array? Those are fair game." I said before lifting the centipede-shaped device in my hand.
"Also, I'm well aware that you being a centuries-old sorceress must have layered your mind with countless magical safeguards that will make it a pain for me to scan your mind. So, I won't be foolish enough to break into it directly. But this..." I nodded toward the small bug-like tool in my hand that was inspired by the Decepticon mind probe from Transformers: Dark of the Moon, "...this can crawl in through any of your orifices and scan your neurons directly. It can read your memories by tracking every chemical and electrical signal being communicated between your brain cells.
Yes, it has the small side effect of shredding your brain in the process, but I can always put it back together in one of my medpods. Worst-case scenario, I'll just clone a new body for Diana once I find her." I added with a shrug, my expression cool and unfazed as I stared at her hollow eyes filled with panic.
Of course, I knew full well that perfectly cloning a demigod was far more complicated than cloning a Kryptonian. It was nearly as difficult as tampering with the Homo Magus gene—maybe even worse. But she didn't know that. So I was banking on Circe's inability to call my bluff, counting on her to break after a few hours of carefully crafted, non-lethal torture.
"Resist all you want, Circe. In fact, I want you to resist," I said flatly. "I've been having an awful day today, and I need something to take it out on. So please—make this difficult." It wasn't even a lie. Ever since the Wayne Conclave was hit, everything had spiraled out of control one after another. Whether it be the death of an innocent employee because of a lapse in my security, the theft of a diluted sample of Compound V, the prison break at Arkham, the sudden appearance of Harley Quinn, or Pamela's... unique situation, it was like the entire universe had suddenly decided to turn on me overnight.
Still, at least some of the potential threats that might grow even more in the future had been dealt with during my recent visit to Arkham. Using my Amusphere nervegear, I was able to wipe Arnold Wesker's alternate personality clean—erasing Scarface at the neural level—and restructured his memories to believe the puppet was nothing more than a cursed object, now exorcised for good. Then I torched what remained of the doll and crushed the charred remains, just for good measure.
I also extracted most of the sensitive files from the warden's terminal in his office. A few particularly damning documents will soon be leaked anonymously—evidence of widespread corruption within the asylum. With public outcry and pressure from Wayne Enterprises, it should be enough to trigger a comprehensive overhaul of Arkham's administration and operations. However, that reminds me, I still need to double-check the logs to confirm if any inmates slipped out before I or GCPD arrived, but honestly, I doubt any of those street-level criminals pose a real threat to the man I am now.
And to top it all off, I didn't leave empty-handed. I may have stumbled onto two prime candidates for Blackmask's new criminal outfit. The thing is, I needed operatives—cutthroat professionals who can handle the dirty work without forcing me to use the Colony's soldiers every time. After all, I desired Wayne Enterprises' private military to remain untangled from my underworld and criminal operations. And these two? Anyone bold—or deluded—enough to attempt a political assassination on the head of their nation purely for their ideals is exactly the kind of reckless loyalty I can weaponize. I just have to make sure their ideals become mine.
"Honestly, Circe, I'd really prefer not to use this to dig through your mind. Calling it... Messy is putting it mildly. But if you force my hand, I won't hesitate." I added, and for the first time since our encounter began, a small, sadistic smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Now, let's at least try to enjoy the time we have together before things get unpleasant, shall we?"
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