Second Chances? Anybody?

Part 1

     Cameron moaned in pain as he rolled over on his bunk, bruised side protesting. His fellow inmates had really worked him over during lunch. He could still remember the cruel words traitor spit angrily behind his back before the thugs had pounced on him. He winced as he moved his head to look down at his body. A wide array of bruises ranging from blue to purple to green stood out sharply against his pale skin. He'd had no idea how much punch Mole-man could pack.

     The beep of his cell door made him turn his head around. Two burly guards stood at attention in his doorway, hands clutching remotes that would activate his collar.

     "You have a meeting with one of the big guys, scum," The first guard sneered as he grabbed Cameron by the shirt collar and shoved him out the door. Cameron barely managed to stay on his feet, left ankle flaring up in pain, as he was pushed along the hallway.

     "Where are we going?" He asked, teeth clenched against the pain.

     Silence from the two guards. Fine then. They can play that game if they want to. I don't care, Cameron tried to brush it off with his usual punk swagger, but he couldn't prevent the chill of unease that raced up his spine.

     Striding up to an open door at the end of the hallway, the guards "relinquished" their hold on him, causing him to stumble into a chair propped up in the middle of the white-washed room. He sat down heavily, glaring mutely at the guards who laughed in response.

     "Have fun, felon," The guard who'd dragged him out of his bed leered, before him and his companion left, sauntering and laughing. He waited until he could no longer hear the guards before he looked around and studied his surroundings. He was in a large, plain room. In front of him was a table with a wooden chair behind it. "Wonder who the chairs for," he thought, still trying to fight the fear that was starting to creep its way into his heart. A one-way window dominated the wall directly in front of him, so he could see his reflection. What he saw caused him to wince. His usual spiky white hair was limp and brittle looking. A ring of blood crusted his upper lip where one of the inmates had given him a wallop. His light blue skin looked gray in the harsh lights, and a rainbow of bruises covered the left side of his face. He didn't need to lift up his shirt to know his side was bruised as well. Don't you look handsome, he thought to himself, sneering at his reflection. Though he knew it was him in the mirror, he couldn't help a pang of pity for his reflection. The hiss of a lock deactivating made him jerk his head around. A tall, dark figure in a black cape swirled into the room.

     No. Please no. A feeling of dread froze his limbs as he stared up into the mask of the Dark Knight himself.

     Batman stared down at the fidgeting juvenile, face impassive.

     "Cameron Mahkent." It wasn't a question but a statement. Cameron wasn't sure he could trust himself to speak, so he nodded mutely instead.

     "I've brought someone who would like to speak with you."

     Cameron hesitantly turned his eyes away from Batman's to look at the open doorway. A tall girl swaggered into the room, black high-heel boots clicking against the tile. She gave Cameron a wide smile, perfect teeth glinting.

     "Cameron, how nice of you to agree to meet with me," she said cheerfully, a friendly glint in her eyes.

     Cameron grunted at her choice of words. Didn't have much of a choice, he muttered under his breath. Whether the girl heard him or not, she gave no indication. She seated herself in front of the desk and placed her clasped hands on the table.

     "I understand you helped two of our own escape Belle Reve two weeks ago. Am I right?"

     If he hadn't been so nervous, Cameron would have responded with a flirtatious comment. But for once in his life, he thought for a second before he spoke.