[Center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/25b9f4eb-a8b1-46ca-8ab3-88c168ed18b3.png[/img]

Joel Beck 
[b]Location[/b]: Ceramic factory 
[b]Tags[/b]: Grim, an old friend, some fucked up shit[/center]

Wraith was pulled from his blind rage by a familiar voice. He dropped the gunman that he was currently beating to a pulp and glanced up. Oh, it was Grim again. What the hell did he say about rumors? Wraith could only imagine what was floating around out there about him. He preferred not to find out. 

With the last thug dropped, Wraith followed the hero to the truck. He could feel the last of his own wounds closing up, pushing out the lead for him to find later. The broken ribs, however, remained an ever present and sharp reminder. They hurt with almost every movement, but after some time, pain was no longer a deterrent. 

"You okay?" He asked, ignoring the other hero's quip. "Didn't think you'd show up again after last night," He paused, "I don't do team ups a whole lot. It's not easy when everyone thinks you're crazy." He gave a single, humorless chuckle, "It's even worse when they're right." 

His attention turned to the van. Seeing that Grim was going to be fine, he went to check the contents again. He found the one body that had been alive minutes ago, only to find no pulse now. Even if they could have gotten them to a hospital, there was no guarantee they would have lived. Still, it stung. No one deserved to die like this. 

As Wraith climbed back onto the loading dock, something across the warehouse caught his attention. Was it movement? There could be more lackeys hiding. Maybe some that he could beat answers out of. 

"Stay here with the bodies," He said to Grim, "Call the cops...and a few ambulances. Some might still be alive. I'm gonna' make sure the rest of the factory is clear."

He stalked off towards the other end of the warehouse, down the hall, to where the kilns sat silent and imposing. There didn't seem to be anyone else here. Maybe it was just all in his head again. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he felt a presence behind him. Wraith whipped around to be met by the familiar silhouette of a certain mind manipulator. "What are you doing here?" He growled, "Do you have something to do with this?"

[I]"I do…In a way."[/i] The voice sent another chill down Wraith's spine, because it hadn't come from Mindraker's mouth; it had echoed directly inside his head. 

"So, what, you're here to try and molest my brain again? That didn't go so well for you last time." 

[I]"You're right, it didn't. But it did jog an old memory of mine. I know it did for you as well, but your mind has been so thoroughly trained that you didn't recognize it as a memory at all."[/i]

His voice was scowling, "The hell are you talking about?" 

Mindraker took a step closer, and Wraith tried to take a step back. He found himself anchored to the spot. The villain had just enough control over him to keep Wraith right where he wanted him.[i] "You don't remember me."[/i]

"You're the weirdo that was hanging around the Bad Boy asshat gang, of [i]course[/i] I remember you." 

[I]"You've met me before; three years ago. Your mind has been programmed to reject that reality no matter how much proof you are given. No matter how ridiculous the cover story may be. Between the traumatic brain injury that has permanently altered your personality for the worst, and the psychological trauma that you will likely live with for the rest of your life, I'm afraid that fixing you isn't an option."[/i]

"I don't need to be [i]fixed[/i]," Wraith snapped, "And I don't need some creep like you gaslighting me." 

[I]"You will never stop rejecting the truth so long as your brain remains broken, unable to heal. You weren't always this way: violent, callous, unstable. You know this deep down; I've heard your conversations with your "brother". Even your own wife wouldn't recognize what you've become."[/i]

"Leave her out of this!" He yelled with sudden rage. Wraith tried to fight the control over his mind so he could show this guy how he felt with his fists. 

[I]"There it is. The uncontrollable emotions, the rage, the violent urges. These are all classic symptoms of the brain damage you've suffered. It's not who you are, so I can't hold it against you. Fortunately, you aren't a complete loss. Modern medicine can't heal you, but you hold the power of the arcane within your suit. So long as you wear it, you cannot die, and it can heal even the most grievous of wounds. Isn't that how it works?"[/i]

"I don't see how that's relevant. This "brain injury" happened before I had the suit, so it won't heal it." Despite the annoyingly condescending tone Mindraker described his condition with, he had Wraith's attention. What if he was right?

[I]"An unfortunate limitation. However, I believe it could heal you completely of every wound or disease you have ever suffered. All it needs is to start from scratch. You must be reduced to nothing and rebuilt."[/i]

"I don't really follow, but that doesn't sound pleasant." 

[I]"It won't be. And I'm very sorry for what I must do. You, more than others, know what it means to make hard decisions, and to do what needs to be done despite how much it may hurt. You won't forgive me easily, and that's perfectly understandable, but I hope you realize someday that this is for your own good."[/i]

"What are you-" Wraith paused when two more forms appeared out of the shadows. Shank and Mutt seemed to have accepted a new leader, and they were more than happy to carry out whatever fucked up thing Mindraker had in mind. Wraith fought against the mental restraints as hard as he could, but he could only barely move. The two goons grabbed him and dragged him backwards towards one of the industrial kilns. This didn't look good. 

[I]"This treatment will only fix the physical ailments of your brain. The traumatic injury and the artificial prions designed to mimic FFI without the fatal aspect. It won't fix the emotional and psychological damage; but it certainly is a start. Just remember: I'm not the one who made you like this. I am only trying to set you free. When you recover, find Dr. Ellison. He is the one to blame." [/i]

"LET ME GO! Shit! Don't-" He wasn't able to finish his pleas before he was unceremoniously shoved inside the kiln. Shank cackled gleefully as he turned the dial all the way up and stepped back. The heat was immediately intense. Where a normal person would have at least passed out, Wraith was forced to remain conscious. He screamed his throat raw as his skin melted and his muscles fell loose from the bone. The only relief he got was when his nerves were thoroughly cooked and he could no longer feel. Soon after, everything stopped. He wasn't sure if he was dead. He couldn't see the red hot glow of the heating elements, he couldn't hear his own bones cracking apart, he couldn't feel his body being reduced to little more than ash, he couldn't smell the stench of burnt hair and skin. 

He was floating in limbo. In a way, it was kind of nice. Quiet, peaceful, painless. It had been so long since he had been able to detach himself from the waking world. Was this the peace the Reaper had told him about? 

Mindraker left with his new crew, leaving the kiln to reduce the man inside to nothing more than ash and shards of blackened bone. Wraith would remain lost in this space between life and death until the kiln was turned off and the arcane properties of his suit began their work. Then, he would be thrust back into the living world, where pain and anguish would greet him without mercy.