Dryness was one of the first two sensations he felt when he awoke. In his mouth, in his back, in his stomach, all he could feel was the dryness of malnourishment. 

 

The other sensation was one of dampness. Over his eyelids, under his palms, lacing his legs and neck, all he could feel was the dampness of a fever.

 

There was a bright light above him. Through his eyelids, an intense illumination sought to shine right through him and into whatever surface he was on. Was that the light of a window or just an intense bulb?

 

Shawn tried to open his eyes, but he found them too stuck together to manage. He needed a drink badly.

 

Then, awareness came flooding back to him. He was in pain because he had to have just undergone surgery to remove a bullet from his body. His wrists had straps around them, he could feel. His thirst was from the need for sustenance following the emergency procedure, his aversion to light from days worth of being unconscious.

 

Shawn remembered the numerous collisions, the spray of bullets everywhere. He remembered the exhaustion at the time from spending a day on the road with nowhere to stop. He remembered the vehicular gunfight and the bullet that had hit him. He remembered the cops coming after everything had already been settled, with them ending up arresting him.

 

He remembered those final words he had heard. Ms. Graves'll pay more for him alive.

 

Shawn knew the name. He had expected to deal with her directly rather than meeting with Lex for that billion dollar trade. Lex's personal secretary, Mercy Graves. Boss had been aware of dozens of incursions made by Lex Corporation made by Mercy into areas of interest. She was dangerous, having once bested Superman by luring him into a trap. Shawn had no idea what she could do, but he knew that he could t be the first victim to fall into her clutches.

 

He opened his eyes, finally. The lights in the room blurred as one giant light before his eyes adjusted. As he'd suspected, there was a large window on his side, letting in a large amount of light. 

 

A door painted white was at the opposite end of the room from him. There was a lock on it, but the knob for it was on the other side of the door.

 

There was an IV tube running up from  just below his wrist, taped down  to be kept in place. Shawn followed the tube up with his eyes, finding a pouch at the top of a rod, half-full of water. It dripped out of a seal at the bottom. 

 

Next to the standing IV machine was a miniature table, standing at around two feet tall below his bed. If he weren't wearing straps, he'd have been able to reach the syringe resting on its top. It didn't take a genius to know that it wasn't morphine.

 

Prodding carefully so as not to alert anyone by making too much noise, Shawn tested his arm restraints. Both were sturdy and didn't allow any slack for him to stretch his arms. He made a shrugging motion to see if he could extend at his shoulders, but his body was too weak from lack of motion to accomplish much.

 

Gritting his teeth, he flexed his left arm as much as he could. Then, he yanked back, trying to slip his hand out of the strap. It didn't work. Worse, he cut his wrist in the attempt. A red dash lacerated the skin just under the strap. He couldn't feign unconsciousness if anyone entered the room to check on him.

 

And, as if on queue, the door with the lock on the outside clicked. Shawn stiffened in his bonds, tense.

 

The door swung open, revealing a large man with a white coat, his shoulders almost as broad as the doorframe. He has a white radio wire that stretched from his ear down to his arm. He did not give Shawn so much as a cursory glance to verify his state of consciousness, only going about his work. His actions bespoke of him already knowing that he was awake.

 

As the man moved over to the window, Shawn took another look around himself. There. He spotted a camera in the corner of the room, nailed to the ceiling. 

 

A screeching noise came from the window. Shawn turned abruptly, seeing the blinds get closed to block out the sunlight. The room was suddenly a much smaller, cramped space.

 

In the dimmed light, the doctor- if he was one- approached with a quick pace. While walking, he pulled out a syringe from a pocket on the inside of his white coat.

 

"No!" Shawn yelled. He clenched his fists and shied back as far as he could, but he could barely slide his body a few inches to the side. 

 

Ignoring his protests, the doctor grabbed the nearest strap to him. Shawn's arm was pulled awkwardly away from his body, making it burn at its treatment. 

 

The needle plunged down into Shawn's wrist. The dim light blurred away.

 

 

Shawn had never had his head cut off before, but he was pretty sure that that was what he felt when he awoke with that throbbing in his head. Must've had one drink too many last night, he thought.

 

He was seated, back against some hard, metallic surface. A dumpster? Where was he?

 

Eventually, he gained the wherewithal to open his eyes. He fought against the throbbing in his head to examine his surroundings. He wasn't slumped in some alleyway or in a public bathroom or anywhere he recognized. 

 

He was seated in a room with a concrete floor, but there was only one light in it. The bulb was directly above him, allowing a dim light to fall upon him and create a circle of vision in which he could see. Beyond that small circle was complete darkness.

 

Resisting the urge to panic, Shawn moved to stand up and investigate more. He couldn't, however. As he tried to get out of the chair, he felt a hard leather on his wrists pull him back down. Eyes widening, he sharply turned his head and found two leather straps tying his arms to the chair. Further examination revealed a similar predicament for his legs.

 

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Shawn struggled against his bonds, desperate to break free. He knew what this was, and he knew how this would likely go. Torture was the next logical step for an uncooperative enemy who killed a dozen of your men.

 

It took him a few moments to steady his breathing. Once he regained his composure, he remembered that he hadn't felt any pain when struggling. He glanced down at his abdomen where the bullet had hit him. A loose-fitting T-shirt (it was not a shirt he had ever owned) prevented him from seeing his injury, but he could see the outline of a thick, square bandage underneath his shirt. He suspected that there were also stitches, though he couldn't be certain if they were there or had ever been there.

 

The light above him turned off suddenly, plunging the room in darkness. How did any room get so black that he couldn't even see his own body?

 

A click sounded out in front of him, followed by a soft whirring noise. Soon, the light turned back on, a bit brighter than before. Had that been intentional?

 

Shawn then heard a metal creaking at him from his right. He couldn't turn his head far enough to see the source, but it was definitely a door being opened. These people loved punctuality.

 

The door shut with a pronounced slam. A series of increasingly loud clicks followed. 

 

A woman in high heels walked around him from his right. Blonde hair cut short to her ears, she turned to face him. Shawn took note of her rather formal attire, looking more like she belonged in an executive board room more than a dark basement with a man she had tied up. He wished it were that way, at least. His eyes alighted on firm muscles in her almost bare legs. Her skin was tan, much more so than Lex.

 

Shawn knew who she was. The question was whether or not she knew who he was.

 

Mercy Graves flashed him a wide grin that faded into a light, perpetual smile. "I must say," she spoke, voice loud and protracted as if in a musical number, "I've never needed to spend so much money on one person before."

 

Shawn said nothing. He watched her hands at her sides, wondering if her fingers would suddenly tense and strike him. 

 

Would his boss care if he got killed in captivity? Maybe. Shawn's boss already had the money, but maybe Shawn's loyalty in giving the money away freely would earn him attention, or maybe he still had a part to play in the coming days. 

 

But what if he had already served his purpose? Would his employer care if he never showed up again?

 

"Speak English?" Mercy asked, still smiling.

 

Odd question, considering how he had spoken in plain English with Lex when they had met. How long ago was that?

 

"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to talk. It'll be fun once you learn."

 

Shawn considered telling her to shut up, but he doubted it would do any good. She had him fully in her grasp. There was no way he could hurt her the way she was. He could threaten her, but not only did she seem confident in his captive position, he had no clue where he was or if his boss would care to look for him.

 

"Why don't we start with something simple?" She clapped her hands together, breaking his focus on her hands. "I'm your new boss. Now tell me who you are."

 

He hesitated. "Shawn," he replied, unsure of what her angle was.

 

"Louder, please," Mercy said politely, pitching her hand up to pantomime a higher volume.

 

"Shawn."

 

"Ah, better." She raised a hand to her ear, then spoke in a lower voice. "Gave me Shawn, but he isn't saying much else. Is the name good enough?"

 

"Where are we?" Shawn demanded, hoping he sounded authoritative.

 

"Fine with me." She lowered her hand. "Okay, Shawn," Mercy continued in a higher octave. "I don't have a lot of time today- I'm a very busy person- so I am just going to leave you here." She exited the small patch of light in the room.

 

"Hey!"

 

Mercy returned into the light, bearing a black layered cart with a small, rounded bulb on a flat surface. It had no wire to constrict its range of motion, but she kept it at the edge of the light patch directly in front of him. "My boss tells me your boss gave us these."

 

Shawn stiffened, comprehending the horror at last. They weren't going to torture him. They were going to take control of his mind.

 

He struggled against his bonds once again. His efforts proved fruitless, however, only succeeding in making him lose sight of Mercy when she stepped out of the patch of light again. He had a good guess as to where she was, as metal scraping indicated she was walking behind him in her heels.

 

The door opened at the same time that the lights turned off. "Enjoy!" Mercy said, then departed through the door and leaving him alone. 

 

The Diamond Light turned on just as the door swung shut.