Acceleration

Chapter 28: Our Reflection

The harsh glare of a fluorescent light tore Erin from the blackness. His nose felt like it had reinflated itself, his face was crusted with blood—dry, cracked streaks ran down his skin. His head throbbed. His vision swam.

He was in a shack. A large couch faced a wall-mounted mega-screen, flanked by three smaller monitors on each side. In the corner, a bed draped in black sheets sat opposite a makeshift kitchen. A cluttered workbench stood beside it, the fabricator on top humming softly. Revnid stood before it, silently observing.

Erin tried to rise but found his arms bound to a concrete support pole. He vibrated his limbs, testing the restraints, but they didn't budge.

His mask was gone—pulled back, revealing his identity. He figured Revnid already knew who he was, but it still made his skin crawl. His whole body ached, muscles stiff with pain from the beating he'd taken.

"You make those chains from some super-dense metal or something?" he asked, struggling again. No response. Revnid didn't even look his way.

"How'd you do that cloud trick?" Erin pressed. "Chorus of Lightning, right?"

This time, Revnid turned his head slightly but kept his eyes on the fabricator.

"Seriously, it's a cool move. You copied my punch thing, think I could pull off 'Chorus of Lightning' if I—"

"STOP TALKING."

Revnid was suddenly inches from him. His eyes, glowing red through the hollow sockets of his mask, burned with fury.

Erin flinched. The air itself seemed to tremble at the sound of his voice.

"Shut your mouth while I decide how to kill you."

Erin forced a grin. "And let you think in peace? Nah, I'm good."

Revnid growled and slammed his fist into the support beam above Erin's head, sending debris scattering.

"Anger issues, huh?"

Still ignoring him, Revnid turned back to the workbench and opened the fabricator. Inside were two new lenses. He peeled open the eye sockets of his mask and inserted them, repairing the damage from their fight.

"Well, unless you can be in two places at once, you're not Charlie," Erin muttered. "Kinda put all my eggs in that basket."

"You should've been preparing to fight instead of playing detective," Revnid said. "Maybe then, you would've won."

"Low blow. You only won because you copied me."

Revnid chuckled, but the laugh dissolved into a cough. He leaned forward, bracing himself.

"Yeah, those hits hurt, didn't they?" Erin jabbed, spitting toward him. The spit hit the ground. Revnid didn't even blink.

"So who are you, really?" Erin asked.

Revnid said nothing, just dropped into a chair across from him.

"You figured out who I am," Erin said. "Care to tell me how?"

"No."

"Lame. So... did you chicken out yet?"

Revnid stared at him.

"Come on, you kidnapped me, dragged me to your evil Batcave. If you were going to kill me, you would've done it already. You don't have the guts."

Revnid didn't move, but Erin noticed the subtle change—his breathing had quickened.

"What?" Erin pressed. "Never killed anyone with your own hands, have you?"

"Maybe I just want you to suffer."