red in tooth and claw

Dr. Morell had The Black Canary delivered to his home laboratory. It was a shame he had to be so secretive about this sort of research, but there were too many laws and hurdles about human experimentation, and, if Gotham’s present state was any indication, there was little time to spare. They warned him about the type of power this specimen had, and he made sure the gag was fastened tightly across its mouth. James, his newest admirer, stood by his side, eager to observe procedure. “This one is known as The Black Canary,” Thomas said, handing James a pair of surgical gloves to match his own, “I’m most interested in the vocal cords, and seeing whether they’re enlarged. Typically the metagene doesn’t change the phenotype, but when a power is so reliant on a part of the body, it might be possible.”

James recognized the face before Dr. Morell said the name, and he couldn’t be more delighted. Of course he knew the Black Canary. His field work had largely been attributed to her and that annoying red-headed brat. Although she didn’t publicize it, James was quite aware Ms. Dinah Lance had quite some power behind that voice of hers. Apparently so was Morell. That wasn’t surprising with all the publicity she got. He slipped on the gloves he was quite familiar with by now. He’d observed a two dissections before this, and the gloves happened to be useful in his line of work. “Will you separate the head first or will the procedure be performed in situ?”

"In situ." James, for all his intelligence, still had much to learn. Dr. Morell picked up a black pen and marked an area on the Black Canary’s neck— a box around her vocal cords. “I intend to remove her vocal cords and see if the meta ability can still be used. That, of course, cannot be done with a dead specimen. I know vivisections are exciting, but you’ll have to wait a while for that.”

James nodded and scribbled notes in his pad. Dr. Morell was truly a genius, someone who James could look to, unlike his annoyingly emotional sister who would never be able to reach such an incredible depth. “Will we keep her under sedation for the procedure?”

Dr. Morell laughed. “Interesting pronoun you used there. Her. Operating under the assumption this is a human being. I know it looks like one, but believe me, it’s not.” It was something he used to have trouble with too, at first, but the more he learned about metahumans, the more obvious it became that they were something else entirely. “You need to think of the Canary as nothing more than a specimen. As an entomologist, I have the highest respect for insects and other laboratory animals, but in order to conduct experiments with them there has to be a degree of… disassociation, if you will.”

James's frowned a bit. Everything he had observed about Dinah Lance told him she was very human. Human emotions, human life. It's what made her weak, what led to the inability to harness the potential of her power. He felt his interest dwindling. If she wasn't human, this became much less satisfying. But he quickly hid his dismay and believed it would be better not to argue if he were to witness the event. “Yes, of course Doctor.” Seeing her there, lying helplessly on the table…. he was excited again. “Shall we get started? “

Dr. Morell picked up the sterile scalpel and nodded. “Yes, lets.” It warmed his heart to have someone by his side who was equally as intrigued as he was. Thomas made a vertical incision along the specimen’s neck, careful to avoid the jugular vein and carotid arteries. Of course, that didn’t stop the blood from oozing out, but it wouldn’t cause death.

[pm] He sounds... promising.

tophattricks replied to your post: [mask] The meta-human threat known as ...

And there are still rabbits. What did you do to her?

[mask] I'm afraid there aren't any shortcuts to getting rid of the rabbits. 

Dr. Morell never enjoyed these types of outings. The spotlight was far more natural on Adrienne than himself, and he felt the sweat building up on his palms before he even had to say anything to the growing audience. Gotham University had kindly provided the auditorium for the event, and the room was full of bright, happy students and guests. He shared a smile with his wife and watched as the principal of the school came up onto the stage to introduce them. "Joining us here tonight is Senator Lemaire-- the author of several books and sponsor of dozens of bills-- and Dr. Thomas Morell, who recently published Inside the Chrysalis: The Evolution of Metamorphosis. You're permitted to ask them each one question, and afterwards they're willing to sign any books you have. Thank you, and enjoy."

 Roy still couldn’t believe Ollie was really back. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch the guy –again- or hug him every time he glanced at him. They hadn’t had much time to share war stories, barely enough to explain his missing arm and let Oliver properly greet Mia. Even that little moment of happiness had been short-lived, though: just like Roy had done so many times the media had wondered about Ollie’s whereabouts, and now that he was back they’d agreed that Mr. Queen, multibillionaire, needed to make a few appearances to keep his cover up. The only reason Roy had decided to accompany him was that a small part of him still wasn’t completely convinced his hero was back. As they took their seats Roy started to regret that choice: the suit he’d borrowed from Ollie was uncomfortable, and he raised his only hand to loosen the tie. “I don’t have to actually ask them anything, right? ‘Cause… I don’t know shit about these things,” he whispered to Ollie, trying to get back to how things used to be. “All I’ve got is ‘why would anyone write a whole book on a bug?’… And for some reason I doubt they’d appreciate that.” 

Adrienne played the doting wive very rarely. She wouldn't demean herself in such a way than to be recognized for anything other than her own accomplishments, but being a proud wife, now that she could do. Her husband was a scientist who pushed boundaries, who had articles written about him that framed him as a man who might change the world. That was a man she could stand to be next to, even if she didn't have particular fondness for the man himself. They were a marriage based on convenience and utility, and they were both fine with it. Still, smiles and friendliness pleased the crowd. She was poised, controlled, deliberate without seeming to be any of those things. It was a practiced art of deception, years in the making. Humans were so fragile as a species. They always feared strength, especially when it came from a woman. But that was why they were here, was it not? To help rid themselves of such weakness, to make it into strength. Judging by the face of excited biology and political science majors, their plan was working perfectly. "Thank you," she said, in answer to the principle's introduction. "We're both very happy to be here and we hope we can help enrich the minds of our next generation of game changers." 

Jordan turned her tape recorder on the moment the dean of Gotham University introduced Senator Lemaire and Dr. Morell. This wasn't her usual junket but the news had been slow lately and she had no interest covering the city's bunny epidemic. Plus, she hadn't been able to produce a single article concerning the actual cause of the collapse of Wayne Tower; not when at every turn she was being met with the pasted on smiles of Wayne representatives every time. Finally her editor had slammed a flyer for the Morrel/Lemaire Q&A on her desk and ordered her to "dress pretty." So that's how she found herself, front row in a trim royal blue dress and wearing heels she'd rather be using to stab the noisy people surrounding her. Taking a breath, she raised her arm, directing a non-plussed smile at the couple on stage. "Jordan Barnes, Gotham Gazette. My first question is addressed to Dr. Morell. What is that first drew you towards the study of insects?" 

Dr. Morell nodded at Ms. Barnes. He was pretty sure she reported on Adrienne a few times in the past-- as many had. "An excellent first question," Thomas said with a smile, trying his best to keep his composure under the bright lights on the stage. This was his least favorite part of the job. He was meant for the laboratory, not the microphone. "I used to have a bug collection as a boy. Odd hobby, I know, but such is the life of a budding biologist. We're all a bit mad." He laughed. "It was the dedicated work of E.O. Wilson that really brought me into the fold. I studied under him in college, and one thing led to another... and you have to admit, insects are fascinating. They're most of the biomass on the this planet, are capable of amazing feats, and many are as deadly as they are beautiful." At that, Thomas glanced at Adrienne. "I ask the audience, how could someone not be drawn towards insects?" 

Under normal circumstances, changing her skin color would be an easy task. But it wasn't. Ever since she had gotten the illness, her body chemistry had been all kinds of screwed up. Some days were better than others, depending on how much energy she had. She kept quiet to ensure nobody knew, not even Harley. The killing was minimal -- which hadn't help her mood as of late. Dressed to the nines in a black business casual suit, Pamela did her best to disguise herself. It wasn't her normal attire, so they wouldn't suspect. She was about to become a professor at Gotham University, wanting to make it interesting for the biology majors and push them in the right direction... her direction. Her plan involved attending Gotham University functions in relation to biology. That way, it would seem as if the university wooed her. She would just sit in the back and listen. For now. 

Roy rolled his eyes at the Doctor’s rhetoric question. That was the kind of shit he hated about politicians and businessmen. The ridiculous attempt at winning the audience’s favor with silly jokes and sympathetic tales. That last ‘beautiful’, coupled with the sickening glance toward his beloved wife was enough to make Roy snort. “Dude’s got no taste, they’re disgusting. Have you seen that movie with the giant spiders taking over a city? Fascinating my ass.” His words were meant for Ollie, of course, but considering how Roy didn’t bother to keep his voice low many of the people sitting close to them turned their heads toward him. Roy sheepishly rubbed his neck with his only arm. “I mean, huh… Is there any way your studies on bugs can help humanity? Like… I dunno, doing some cool sh—stuff like mixing DNA and things like that. Spiderman’s just a comic character, but that’d be cool.” Could insect grow back a missing limb? 

Richie’s fingers twitched with nervous apprehension, scrawling doodles of chibi Batmans and Robins on his notepad, as the minutes ticked and tocked on in waiting from his wrist watch. This wasn’t what he would call his usual Friday outing, the usual being gorging himself in milkshakes from Big Belly Burger and a quick rundown to Comic Relief for a brief look at some of their newer arrivals. Seating idly on a chair in a packed auditorium of University Students who spoke in excitement and hushed whispers about the famed Doctor’s new book and his political wife’s appearance was definitely not the comic day he envisioned. He swung a lining tether of a little Batgirl into existence on his page, joining the fray of Chibi-Batman and Robin as the lights grew in brightness on the stage. Richie sat straighter. Watch and observe, that was what he was supposed to do. Find ways to enrich his, Holly, Traci’s and even Cullen’s campaign so that Mark Fender Bender wouldn’t have a chance to reach the coveted top spot of Student Council President… A hand bumped into his shoulder, jarring him for a second, as an eager student raised their hand to ask a question. He might as well be the proverbial bug from the good Doctor’s book, an insignificant speck of an ant in an otherwise large colony. 

Dr. Morell's eyes dropped down to the side of the young man who had asked the next question. His arm was missing. Aha. "Immature insects and arachnids are capable of limb regeneration, yes. If you read my book, you can learn more about what happens to a caterpillar inside the cocoon-- their entire body, save the imaginal discs, liquefies as its Hox genes are laid out all over again to form the new body plan. If scientists are able to harness this power, it could have grand implications for human beings." 

Jordan nodded curtly at the Doctor's response. Typical for lab coat and hardly something that would really hold her readers attention. Turning to shoot the loudmouthed red head a withering look, she turned her attention back to Morell as she pressed him with another question. "Your book deals primarily with butterflies, correct? While beautiful, none can be considered particularly deadly... to humans... that is to say. What advancements in the field has this particular study brought about?" 

Wally wasn't sure he could hold out for much longer. His cheek twitched, his fingers tapped impatiently on the unopen book in his hands, and he was /starving/. He didn't know how he'd gone sixteen years of his life going so slow; how everyone else lived their lives going so slow. Wally was going to keel over and die before this thing actually started. Or miss out on some quality 'him and his fridge' time. He didn't know which was worse. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Wally slid further down his chair – earning him a glare from the old guy two chairs over it. And because he was seventeen years old and a perfectly respectable high school student, he stuck his tongue out in response. Those beady eyes only narrowed at him further and Wally was half tempted to call him out on his creepy squinty eye syndrome when the mic sounded. He wasn't so caught off guard that he'd nearly fallen out of his chair. What? No way. Mentally flipping the grandpa off, he let his attention to stray to center stage. To the reason Wally was currently suffering in silence because – in the words of his mom – "Dr. Morell did us a favor, Wally, the least you could do is return it" yada yada, blah blah blah. Today was going to be a long day. 

Dr. Morell 's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, you're wrong about that. Many species, when startled, are capable of shooting hairs off their body like tarantulas. These hairs can cause an inability to breathe if inhaled, and can cause something called Quincke's edema." Only a fool thought any creature could be completely without its barbs. "I am currently looking at how the regeneration of insect parts during molting could aid human beings in healing. I can't reveal too much at this point, but the research is promising." 

Adrienne wore her best, most camera-ready smile as the reporter asked the question. The first had been aimed at Thomas, not unexpectedly. There had been a fifty-fifty chance, after all, and the years had taught her that envy was a weak emotion. It didn't lead to anything good unless one could overcome it. The more positive light was shone on Thomas' work, the more useful he was. And so she accepted his questions and answeres with grace, nodding along, looking interested, all the while observing and scanning the crowd. Then the next question came, and then the next. She began to lose her patience. Not that it was visible. The questions filled her with a curious glee, though. Mixing insect DNA with human DNA. Advancing society. Changing the world. They really had no idea just how on point their questions were, and their ignorance would be their downfall. It would be hers and Thomas' advantage. 

Tim grinned a little at Roy's question. He crossed the room as subtly as he could to find his way next to him, lightly clapping him on the back. "Hey," he whispered. "Didn't expect to see you here." Science had always fascinated Tim. So had politics. So had criminology. He was all over the place in his interests, but he figured there was no reason to limit himself. He had both their books in his hands and he glanced down at them with a small smile. "Alright, so this is exactly the place people'd expect to find me. I'm a nerd. I own it." He shrugged, lightly nudging Roy in the ribs with his elbow before raising his hand. One of the organizers got to him eventually and he nodded, articulating his words confidently but humbly. "My question is for Senator Lemaire? What do you think is the biggest challenge facing the country today?" 

Traci recognized none of the faces in the crowd, save for one of the two on stage in voting ads. Or, by chance, the staged beauty could've been just someone she saw on the streets two weeks ago. Gotham was a hard place to accustom to when names and faces got involved. She apologized as she shifted through already seated bodies to score a seat in the back, lips pursed as she listened in to the few bits of conversation she was glad she hadn't missed. There was a certain finesse to their talk, but it was about bugs. Leroy would've enjoyed this a lot more than her. "Excuuuuse me! My question's for the Doctor: can iguanas eat butterflies? 'Cuz mine is a little picky with bugs." she blurted out her ignorance and earned some glares in response. It was a perfectly good question, right? Leroy ate humans once, but butterflies were tricky business. 

Dr. Morell gaped, his offense creating a crinkle on his forehead. "Serious inquires only, please!" 

Roy bit his lip. So insect-obsessed scientist really was looking exactly into the kind of stuff that could give him his arm ba-- No. He'd already put things into motion to get a cool Terminator hand, he wasn't going to offer himself as lab rat to get injected with butterfly DNA. Those wings would really clash with his hair. Despite that the mere idea that something like that could be possible gave Roy some hope, enough to offer Dr. Morell a quick thumbs-up followed by a very inappropriate "Thanks, Doc, keep rocking!". Yup, social events really weren't his thing, Roy only hoped he wasn't completely ruining Ollie's reputation. Tim's arrival caught him off guard, even though he really shouldn't be surprised "What can I say, nerd, I'm trying out new things." 

Adrienne smiled at the young man. A vaguely familiar face, one of the Gotham socialite class, or at least one of their children. The kind of face that blended into the tabloids with a thousand other young, boringly handsome twenty-somethings the Bruce Waynes of the world seemed to raise. "That's not a simple question. We're faced with dozens of issues from the wage gap, to racial inequality in the criminal justice system, to acts of terrorism being committed on U.S. soil. I think pretending that any of them are unimportant would be doing our country a disservice. Realistically, we have to tackle them all. It takes people being shaken out of their apathy, it takes action, it takes motivation." She wrinkled her brow at the girl's interruption and her following question. Trust it to little brats like her to take the attention of her well-thought-out speech. The girl would have to hope she didn't give them any more reasons to focus on her. 

Tim gave a vaguely impressed nod at the politician's answer. It was basically a non-answer, a fence sitting answer, but he was sure it would make her look good for the papers. That was what this was all about, right? Either way, she was a good politician. She might have even had good motivations. And she was a democrat. They were all reasons to like and support her. "The jock and the nerd. They should write stories about us on that nasty fan fiction site," he teased, looking down when his phone beeped. "What the--" It was from Cheshire. 'The Batman is running on limited time.' "Something's come up. I gotta go..." he shoved his books into the arms of the nearest person who didn't have any. "On me. Roy, I'll text you later, okay?" He was already answering the message and preparing to forward it to everyone who had ever had a 'Bat' or 'Robin' in their name. 

Roy rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm not the jock, I'm obviously the reformed bad boy. You know, like Danny Zuko in Grease. Y'know, the badass women fall for." Keeping up his cocky act was getting easier every day, more natural. Unlike Tim, he didn't exactly pay attention to the politician's words; to him it all sounded like a big blah blah blah. He had one thing to ask Adrienne, though. "And what about Arkham's revolving door problem? Are you gonna tackle that as well? Here in Gotham it kinda feels like getting arrested is little more than a nice vacation, and this ain't the only city with that problem." Tim hasty escape caught his attention. "What the--" That was a Red Robin exit if he ever saw one. Roy felt a small pang of guilt at not being able to follow his friend right away. "Text me, yeah. And let me know if I... We can help. Good luck." 

Jordan quirked an eyebrow at Morell's response towards the young girl. Her question may have been out of place but it had seemed to the lighten the mood if only momentarily. Turning her attention towards the senator as she made a quick note of Morell's attitude, she gave Lemaire a short nod before launching into her next question. "Senator Lemaire, although your concerns deal on the state level, as a resident of Gotham what do you think is this city's most pressing issue at the moment... besides our current rabbit infestation?" she asked, drawing a laugh or two at the mention of the current bunny problem. She wondered how vague Lemaire would be this time.

Pamela Isley quirked an eyebrow at the young brunette female that had to sit next to her. Ugh. She had hoped nobody would be this close to her, just in case her skin changed. Deep breathe in. She was young and thus easily transformed. And well, if she was here, it had to mean she was interested in biology in some way, right? Can iguanas eat butterflies? 'Cuz mine is a little picky with bugs. And nope.Goddammit. It wasn't a serious question. She grinded her teeth, not wanting to snarl at her. She was young and thus easily transformed. 

Adrienne couldn't help but be offended at the fact the boy had received a text message and left the room as quickly as he had arrived. Thankfully, the reporter filled in with a real, sensible question, not limited to iguanas and their butterfly diets. "Again, it's impossible to pick one thing. We have a huge homeless population, further concerns of people in less economically successful neighborhoods who are facing displacement, and as I said, a recent act of terrorism. Our first concern is to ensure our police department ensure the party responsible is captured and punished before they can harm anyone else. But our longterm problems don't disappear once we find the people responsible for collapsing Wayne Tower. We need to find a balance between conventional law enforcement and those who work outside the law. We need to reduce crime rates rather than allow caped vigilantes to fight crime on a street level. They fight symptoms, but not the disease. We need a real cure, before this city faces something it can't come back from." 

Wally erupted in laughter, nearly vibrating in his seat a good minute after Traci hollered her question at the Doc. He sobered up long enough to send his seatmates his signature lopsided grin. At least someone tried to liven up the snooze-fest. Shooting her a discreet thumbs up, Wally listened half-heartedly to the back and forth Q&A. "Everybody needs a hero." He winced, not realizing he'd spoken out loud 'til he had the attention of half the room. 

Traci suppressed the urge to laugh at Wally's quip, leaning over to toss him a wink before she momentarily locked eyes with the redhead next to her. If there was anything she knew about looks, it was that they bordered pretty nicely on killing if someone's heart was in it. Her eyebrow raised before she settled back in her seat, lips pursed as she awaited whatever would follow. Her question was ignored anyway, tossed aside for an angry snippet from the very doctor she questioned. Hey, at least she was acknowledged, right? Two points for this Thirteen, but there was no way she'd be changing her name to Fifteen to accommodate. 

Ollie certainly wasn't expecting a book signing to be his return to Gotham's limelight. He had wanted to avoid it for another day, to gather his senses and get a good idea of what the hell had happened while he was gone, but he was a Queen and they had expectations to live up to. The public hadn't seen him for some time, months really, and he had to save face. Make up more excuses about why he had been gone. Luckily they were the ones asking the questions here. He could avoid an interview for a little longer. He wasn't going to do it alone though and Roy was at his side. The lack of an arm on him was a punch to the emerald archer's gut, but he played it off as best he could by slathering on an award-winning smile. Keeping the guilt from his eyes was an even harder challenge. The crowd was an odd one, full of students and grown adults alike. The doctor gave him the creeps and the senator, while lovely, had a look to her that didn't tolerate bullshit. The way she answered questions with a practiced smile and patience was almost unnerving. He raised a hand up and sat up a little straighter in his seat. "My question is for Senator Lemaire. My friend here brings up a good point. Arkham's revolving doors are a problem and with seemingly no long term admittance, the public has to wonder if the asylum is doing more harm than good." He lowered his hand and settled back into his seat. "You sound like you have some promising ideas on how to solve the crime problem and the vigilante problem. Care to expand on that? What's your suggested solution? I'm only curious."

Adrienne glanced at the man across the room. Oliver Queen. Typical idiot playboy who thought he had a grasp of all things political. He could hardly grasp how to properly run a night club, let alone a multi-national conglomerate like Queen Consolidated, but he was at all the right events and he had could provide generous publicity and donations. "I don't support the death penalty, Mister Queen. Not for anyone. As our enemies evolve, we must evolve too, but we can't evolve by sinking to their level. We don't become killers. I'm pushing for more stringent policies regarding Arkham and its security and for our government to sanction law enforcement who are capable with dealing with these metahuman threats. We all watch Agents of SHIELD, don't we?" She smiled, a small wink to humanize her, to prompt a laugh from the crowd. "Obviously our world is far more complex than a television show, but I believe there's a future in which we can have government sanctioned task-forces who fulfill the jobs our vigilantes fill now."

Richie ’s brow furrowed in interest of the answer. Reneration? Human Regeneration? Was that even remotely possible? In comic books, sure. Instant Healing was more or less a prerequisite to a comic book hero’s abilities nowadays. The Hulk had one, Captain America, Wolverine. But in real life? He tapped his notepad in an even beat, his mechanical pencil drawing scattering dots in a finite spot onto the page with each little drop. “Wouldn’t the DNA scheme of insects be too vastly different from a Human’s to actually initiate the same type of response?” 

Dr. Morell raised a finger and nodded. "A valid question. However, we're talking about very old genes, here. For example, there is a transcription factor called Pax6 that's responsible for directing where the eye is placed on the body. If you remove the Pax6 gene from a mouse and transplant it onto the wing of a developing fly, that fly will go on to form an eye on its wing. Think about how incredible that is..." Thomas spoke with a passionate spark in his eyes. "A gene from one organism is "recognized" by the DNA of a completely different organism, and has the same use in both of them." 

Ollie listened to the senator's answer, his smile never leaving though his eyes narrowed by a fraction. Government sanctioned task-forces? Sounded more like a firing squad against something she didn't understand. "Actually, not all of us have the time to sit in front of a television on...What is it? Tuesday nights?" He quirked a brow. "My apologies, senator. Thank you for the detailed answer." 

Jordan allowed a smile to grace her features at the senator's quip. Lemaire had no problem charming the crowd but while most were now tweeting about how the senator was a Marvel fan, few were actually paying attention to her words. "A task force for metahumans? Doesn't that seem to be a bit of an extreme countermeasure, Senator? The world may be more complex than a television show but both the past and television have shown us that targeting specific groups can be both dangerous and counterproductive to our society in general." 

"Not all vigilantes are killers," Wally countered, ignoring the tiny voice in his head that told him to stay out of the fray. Something about the senator just rubbed him the wrong way. She was too /stiff/, too polished to really come off as relatable to him. But, then again, a senator who'd try to pull the ol' hip and fresh routine would've been a hundred times worse so. 'Dealing with these metahuman threats.' He stiffened. "So you wanna make them soldiers? Do they-- do the metahumans get a say in that? Like, are they on some kinda blacklist if they don't join up?" 

Adrienne quirked a brow. "Extreme? As opposed to letting them to both commit and fight crime unchecked? I don't think so. I'm not suggesting we hunt them down or put them on a registry," no, she had much more useful plans than that. "All I'm suggesting is that we integrate these so-called superbeings into our existing law enforcement. After all, who better to catch the super criminals?" 

Richie nodded his assent of understanding. So the technology for transmodification of DNA sequences was apparently becoming more of a reality now. Who knew? Richie swerved in his attention as more questions were tossed, the good politician and doctor answering them all with simplest ease. 

"You're being unnecessarily combative," Adrienne interjected coolly. "I'm not making them into anything. Our police force isn't compulsory, is it? To suggest we force any human into any job is a setback and an infringement on society's autonomy. Jumping to extremes and arguing a 'slippery slope' is a massive fallacy in organized debate, Mister... what was your name again? I suggest you brush up on your decorum." 

The Collector was looking down at one of the finest specimen to grace his lab. According to his superior, the creature was capable of communicating with rabbits-- something that was, under most circumstances, entirely useless, but Thomas was more interested in the mechanism behind it. This also marked the first metahuman he had encountered personally that was engaged in acts of villainy. It re-affirmed his beliefs that Gotham-- and the world-- was far better off without creatures like this in it. Thomas pulled on his latex gloves and poked at the specimen with the blunt end of the scalpel, trying to rouse it from its tranquilized state. On the lab bench next to the so-called Bunny Master sat a live rabbit, which was sniffing at its master's bound hands. "Wakey-wakey."

The Bunny Master slowly came to, the insides of her eyelids looking red under the bright lights beaming down on her. How... Oh, right. She remembered the chase, the sudden drowsiness that had hit her and the men in dark gear that had run towards her. But she'd been leaning against a wall then, whereas now she was lying down on some smooth, hard surface, under bright lights. Something was prodding at her, and she could feel tiny whiskers tickling her hands. "Hello," she greeted the rabbit softly, before trying to open her eyes. The overhead lights were too bright and the Bunny Master quickly squeezed her eyes closed again, instead trying to sit up, only to realise that she couldn't. Someone else was there, and she slowly opened her eyes to squint at the still blurry figure standing over her. "Let me go!"

The Collector sighed. Why did they always insist on being released? Didn't they realize how noble his pursuit was? How much their lives could forward the world of science? "You have a very important job." Thomas said softly. "I suspect your mind is too simple to understand it, but you were brought to me for a reason, and I would like to learn more about your... talents." He could tell by its squirming that it noticed the precarious situation it was in. "Those are electrodes on your head. They're hooked up to a screen that shows me a real-time image of your brain activity." There was a hint of excitement in his voice. "They won't hurt you; I plan on studying you alive before... well, you'll see." Thomas picked the rabbit up under his arm-- careful not to displace any of the electrodes that matched its master's-- and moved it to the other side of the table. "Go on," he said, "show me what you can do."

The Bunny Master squinted at the man as he slowly came into focus. He was old, with a white coat. A doctor maybe? Or worse, a scientist. As the last of the tranquilizer wore off, her heart started beating faster and she wriggled against her restraints, still listening. Simple mind? Did he just insult her? He said there was something on her head, and she looked around as if that would help her see it, but instead the most she saw was wires in the corners of her vision. Her eyes zeroed back in on the scientist when he raised up the rabbit, then placed her on the far end of the table. Just show him what she could do? "And then you'll let me go?"

The Collector shook his head, almost sadly. "You're too much of a curiosity for me to let you slip out of my hands. But if you comply, we can make this quick."

The Bunny Master kept her eyes on the rabbit, not looking at the Collector. Making it quick was a good thing, right? Her brain still felt slightly fuzzy, and not everything was making sense yet. She was scared, but she could tell that her little friend was too. She had to be brave for her. "Okay. Come." The rabbit hopped towards her, sniffling the Bunny Master's face. "Are you okay, little one?" she asked, pulling against her restraints in an attempt to stroke and comfort her sister. "Turn a circle" she instructed, and the bunny did. She looked directly up at the scientist for the last part. "Chew the wires."

The Collector watched in fascination as the little rabbit listened to what it was being asked to do. They were simple tricks, of course-- things that a trained rabbit could easily pick up without its owner having meta-human abilities-- but given how many of the little critters were filling Gotham's streets, and the strange brain activity registering on the screen, Thomas believed something else was at play here. The claims of this specimen's meta-gene were being supported. At the mention of chewing the wires, Thomas's eyes widened and he made a leap for the rabbit, managing to catch the struggling ball of fur in his hands. "I told you it was wise to comply," he said darkly, setting the rabbit down on the floor this time. "And I don't think you want to incur my anger by breaking a piece of million-dollar equipment."

The Bunny Master struggled again as he snatched up her sibling. "Don't-" She started to protest, only to stop when he lowered the rabbit to the floor. "Don't hurt her," she finished, pulling against her arm restraints with no success.

"I can't use these rabbits as test subjects." Thomas admitted, "Nor do I need to. Do you know what meta-humans are? I study individuals like you, who have something called the meta-gene." The Collector opened one of the drawers in a cabinet lining the wall and pulled out an electric saw. It was messy, but there was no cleaner, more efficient way to open something's cranium.

The Bunny Master relaxed a tiny bit when he said he wouldn't use the rabbits as test subjects, but not enough to stop struggling. "Why?" she asked, trying to watch him move around the room. He reached into a draw and at first she couldn't see what he pulled out. When she saw the saw, her heart started thundering in her chest and she pulled at her restrains until they started cutting into her wrists. "Don't, don't!" She shouted, her voice an octave higher than it had been before.

The Collector felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He placed the electric saw down on the bench next to the specimen-- it seemed to want a better look at it-- and fished his phone out to read the new text. Adrienne. "Honey, you're going to be late. The book signing, remember?" Oh, no. He had forgotten all about that. Thomas quickly responded with "I won't be late." and returned his cell phone to his pocket. "Sorry for the interruption, but I'm needed somewhere else at the moment. It must be your lucky day after all, considering I was going to draw this out and get as much information from you as possible." He knew his colleagues would equate that to torture, but they didn't know anything; it was in pursuit of knowledge, and nothing was more important to a scientist than that. Nothing. Thomas picked the saw back up, plugged it in, and flipped the switch. The loud spinning and vibrating of the saw spokes made his whole body shake. "Oh well," he lamented, his voice drowned out by the noise, "a few minutes is better than nothing. Let's see what I can learn from you."