THE DEATH KNELL-Chapter 39: THE FORGOTTEN EXPERIMENT

It wasn't Batman. Not really. More like an oversized bat with a disturbingly human face. Based on its behavior, Slade Wilson had no reason to believe it retained human intelligence or even a shred of humanity. It was a beast, nothing more.

And yet, its grotesque form unsettled even him.

As it circled above, screeching, dark brown tufts of fur shed from its body, drifting down like diseased snow. Malnourished? Unstable genetic makeup? Whatever the cause, this creature—this thing—was falling apart even as it moved.

Slade drew his gun without hesitation. "Take it down."

Bullets tore through the air, precise and unrelenting. Despite its agility, the creature wasn't nearly as fast as the assassins of the Court of Owls. These genetic monstrosities were created from ordinary people, not trained warriors. Their bodies were frail—more experiments gone wrong than true threats.

The science behind them was flawed from the start.

"Idiots," Slade muttered as he fired. "If Atlantis was their target, why not experiment on aquatic creatures? Not a single one of these things could survive underwater."

Whatever rationale these scientists once had, it was irrelevant now. Their failures littered this abandoned lab, and the remnants of their work were just another problem to eliminate.

The bat-creature shrieked as it plummeted, crashing through several glass tanks before landing in a heap near the far wall. Blue nutrient fluid mixed with dark red blood, pooling around its broken form.

Cindy Moon pulled out a knife, stepping forward with a smirk. "Rich people have bearskin rugs. Maybe I'll start a trend with a bat-skin tapestry."

The creature twitched weakly, struggling to lift its head. Its bloodshot eyes locked onto Cindy's, and—against all logic—its mangled face twisted into something almost... human.

"Ah... ah..." It tried to speak.

Cindy stiffened. Then, smoothly, she swapped her knife for her gun.

"Ah... ah... save... me..."

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A single gunshot echoed through the lab.

The creature went still.

Barbara Gordon clenched her jaw. A year ago, she might have tried to save it. But not anymore.

If there was still a person trapped in that body, death was the only mercy left to give.

Cindy checked her weapon before turning back to the group. "Guess that means no bat tapestries."

Slade took no chances, finishing off anything that had spilled from the broken tanks. "No. Hanging dead people in your home is bad luck."

For once, Cindy didn't argue. Maybe she had seen it—the horror in the bat-thing's eyes right before it died. Slade had certainly noticed.

Erasing the Evidence

The team pressed forward, navigating the grotesque remains of the facility. These tanks and their grotesque contents were just the surface level—discarded failures left to rot. The real horrors likely lay deeper underground.

Before they moved on, Slade issued a command. "Burn them."

Barbara hesitated.

She knew what he meant.

These creatures, no matter how mutated, had human DNA. Killing them felt... wrong.

But leaving them alive? Letting them suffer in endless agony?

Her fingers hovered over the control panel. Then, jaw tightening, she executed the sterilization sequence.

The remaining tanks drained, nutrient fluids siphoning away as lethal gas filled the chambers. One by one, the grotesque lifeforms went still, their twisted bodies silenced forever.

Barbara exhaled sharply.

She had killed today.

Not criminals. Not enemies.

People.

Or... something that had once been people.

The realization unsettled her, shaking old beliefs to their core. But she didn't regret it.

Sometimes, mercy came in the form of destruction.

She turned away, focusing on the next locked door.

Slade and Cindy were already talking in low voices.

"This lab is just the tip of the iceberg," Slade said. "Below this level, we might be dealing with biological weapons, viruses, maybe worse."

Cindy nodded. "Understood. Keep your distance and let me go first."

Barbara worked quickly. The door mechanism was old tech—easy to crack. Within moments, the heavy steel barrier groaned open.

The Forgotten Prison

The next chamber was unsettlingly different.

Unlike the sterile labs and containment tanks, this room resembled a twisted classroom. A human skeleton slumped against a blackboard. Old medical diagrams clung to the walls, faded from time. Rusted gym equipment, broken chairs, and scattered desks gave the impression of a makeshift school... or a psychological experiment.

Slade's gaze swept across the area, his instincts screaming at him to stay alert. This was no ordinary research lab.

Cindy signaled the all-clear, but Slade wasn't convinced. He knew what this place was.

The Mutation Research Ward.

He had seen something like it before. A government project meant to push human evolution by force, twisting civilians into something else. Mutants.

This wasn't a superhero origin story. This was a graveyard.

Slade approached one of the massive containment units lining the walls. The viewing window was caked in grime, but he could still see inside.

It had once been a bedroom. A normal one, with a wooden bed and a thick mattress.

Now, it was a ruin.

Everything inside had been shredded—sheets torn, furniture gnawed on, walls scarred with deep claw marks. And in the center of the room...

A skeleton.

Slade exhaled. "Starved to death."

Barbara glanced at the other cells. More remains. More evidence of failure.

"If this facility was shut down in the '90s, some of them should have still been alive," she said, voice hushed.

"Not after decades without food," Slade replied. "No matter how much they altered them, these were still humans once. They needed to eat. And when the scientists abandoned this place, they left them to rot."

A flicker of unease crossed her face. "They were just people before all this?"

"Yes."

Cindy walked past another containment unit, her fingers trailing across the metal. "Mutants don't exist in this world like they do in Marvel comics. No born superhumans. These people were taken, experimented on, warped into something else."

"And when they weren't useful anymore," Slade added, "they were discarded."

Barbara turned away, gripping her laptop as if it could ground her. The weight of what they had discovered was pressing down on her.

The government. Corporations. Secret councils pulling the strings.

They had turned their own people into monsters.

And then left them to die.

Slade gestured toward her. "Record everything. This isn't just some forgotten lab—this is evidence of crimes."

Barbara hesitated, then nodded, adjusting her camera to document the horrors around them.

Cindy, arms crossed, exhaled slowly. "Think anyone up top is gonna care?"

Slade's lips curled into something resembling a smirk.

"That's not our problem."

For now, they had a job to finish.

And if they had to burn this place to the ground?

So be it.