Cry opens his eyes and immediately grimaces, the lights too bright and the wounds on his body throbbing with a vengeance. He groans and covers his face, which leads to shuffling elsewhere in the room. He gropes at his side table and grabs his mask, shoving it on his face to stop the glowing in his skin and eyes.

"Thank God you're awake. I was worried you'd never get up," a familiar voice comments with a weak laugh. Cry can't seem to piece together who the person speaking is. Between the ache in his cranium and his temporary blindness from the lights, his brain is more than confused.

"Wha—?" the masked villain murmurs, although is isn't exactly sure what he was going to ask. There seem to be too many questions for his brain to sift through.

"Shh. You had a pretty rough time yesterday, so I suggest just focusing on rest."

Cry blinks a few times and rubs his eyes, finally recognizing the dark brown hair and familiar face. A light bruise lines his jaw which definitely wasn't there before. "Matthew, the lights..."

"Oh, sorry. Give me a second." Matthew sets the metal box in his hand down and moves towards the light switch, and in a second the lights have dimmed significantly. He returns to his seat and Cry forces himself upright, blinking to get rid of the vertigo.

"What are you working on?" he asks, glancing at the metal box in the villain's hands.

Matthew shrugs a bit, his cheeks turning a pale pink. "It's a projector of sorts. You can plug it into a computer and then project out whatever you download onto it."

Cry nods a bit, his eyes travelling to the bruise on Matthew's jawline. He gestures to his own jaw. "What happened?"

Matthew's fingers tense around the metal cube and he shrugs lightly. "Um, your dad wanted to talk to you, but I told him you were sleeping. He didn't like that much." He pauses, fiddling with the tech in his hands. "You... you should probably go talk to him soon."

"I'm sorry." Cry exhales heavily and ruffles his hair. "I'll go talk to him."

"Are you sure you don't want to rest some more?"

"I'm sure." The masked villain heads towards the door but pauses before he grabs the handle. "Let me guess... Jack is with Mark again?"

"Yeah. He left after you went to sleep." Matthew exhales, glancing at the box in his hands. "He was pretty emotional when he left. He's been having a really hard time lately."

"I know." He sighs heavily and opens the door. "I'll be back soon."

He moves towards the boss' living quarters, his heart thudding in his ears. He never knows what to expect when it comes to his father. Will he get beaten again? Will his dad be totally listless and have barely enough energy to talk?

Cry knocks softly before entering, his hands shaking at his sides. His father lies on his bed, his face gaunt and yellowed. When he sees his son, he gestures him over.

"What is it, Father?" Cry asks softly.

"I'm dying. You know that. However, I've always been afraid that after I'm gone, you will fail to continue this institute.  My legacy." The boss' eyes close for a moment, his breathing slow. "I hope you don't disappoint me by letting my life's work fall apart."

Cry bites his lip, although his father can't see that. "I won't disappoint you."

"Good. I have hired an advisor for you named Mr. Vincent, and he will start working after I'm gone. He will help you." The boss pauses, and when Cry says nothing he continues. "Because the number of villains I possess has gone down so dramatically, I have arranged that after I'm gone, Mr. Vincent will help you collect and mutate more villains."

Cry's breath hitches and he has to stabilize himself against the footboard of his father's bed. He imagines himself mutating other kids just as he was mutated and his stomach churns, making him nearly retch.

"Don't disappoint me like you already have, Cole," his father orders. "You must do this if you want my approval."

Cry flinches at the use of his real name. That name hasn't been used since... yes, since his mutation. The name is so foreign to him already that it takes him a second to even react to it.

The laboratory is cold. That's the only word Cole can use to describe it. The air is cold, the atmosphere is cold, the attitudes of the scientists are cold. Goosebumps cover his skin despite the fact that his insides feel like they're burning up. He never thought he could feel every section of his brain, but he finds that each has its very own, unique throb.

The door creaks open and his father enters, trailed by two scientists that Cole knows to be Dr. Patrick and Dr. Smith. The boss, his father, makes his way around metal tables and machines before shoving Cole's curtain aside, a grin on his face.

Cole doesn't move, maintaining his fetal position on the hospital bed. He breathes heavily, so scared that he sometimes forgets to do something as simple as inhale and exhale. The heart rate monitor he's attached to beeps irregularly, much too fast for a ten year old child. The line jumps up and down in a panicked fashion as he tries desperately not to panic. Everything hurts. It hurts so much. He presses his face into his knees even harder, trying to block everything out without success.

"Cole?" When he doesn't answer, the boss grimaces slightly. "Answer me, young man."

"What do you want me to say?" Cole mumbles, lifting his head slightly. His grey eyes lock onto his father's, and suddenly his skin is glowing and his eyes turn gold. The boss steps back, horror filling his countenance.

"Um, sir, that's one thing we were going to tell you," Smith says, poking his head into the curtained-off area. "The mutation did have its side effects."

The boss purses his lips and steps out of the small area. His two scientists wait there, their hands folded behind their backs. Cole watches him go, every word they say clearly distinguishable.

"Side effects?" the boss hisses. "What side effects?"

"Well, we mutated his genes so that he has the ability to turn invisible. However, we did some tests afterwards, and we found that for some reason, whenever anyone can see his eyes, they turn gold and he radiates light, which is the opposite of becoming invisible." Dr. Patrick explains, his voice wavering from nervousness. "We did a lot of experiments, and we think that it might have something to do with emotion."

The boss scoffs. "Emotion? That's ridiculous."

"We tapped into his amygdala, and every time someone was looking into his eyes and could read his emotions, it started firing off chemicals that changed his eye colour and made his skin radiate light," Dr. Patrick explains. "The amygdala controls emotions, memory, and decision-making, and our tests determined that emotions could be the only thing causing the reaction."

"I ordered you to conduct these experiments. I was going to make myself an army of super-humans. They were SUPPOSED to be perfect!" the boss spits.

"It's still a 95% success, sir. We've designed a mask that hides his eyes and that he can see through, so he can go out and become invisible without the risk of glowing," Smith says.

Dr. Patrick goes to retrieve the mask and the boss reenters the room where his son lies. Cole curls up as tightly as humanly possible, wrapping his arms around his legs and hiding his face once again. His breathing is still shaky, and the moment his father steps in, the heart rate monitor goes crazy again. He grimaces against his knees. Stupid heart monitor.

The boss sighs. It's not really a surprise to Cole that he's disappointed. He seems to ALWAYS be disappointed in him. He's been told he looks like his mom, who passed away in childbirth. The mask will hide his face, at least, and maybe his dad will stop looking so angry every time he looks at him. Maybe, because he's his father's first experiment and a success, he'll be proud of him.

The boss kneels down next to his bed, a cold smile on his face. "Cole, you are my first creation. How does it feel?"

The boy lifts his head, his brown locks falling over one of his now-gold eyes. "Dad, it hurt. They stuck needles into me."

"Yes, but you're now powerful. You, and the other supers, will bring me to victory."

Cole sniffles, but doesn't respond. The boss sighs heavily and stands, grabbing the curtain. Just before he leaves, Cole finds it in him to speak.

"Dad, my emotions are my weakness, right? That's what the scientists keep saying."

"Yes, they are." The boss glances back at him for a moment. "You will wear a mask to hide your shortcomings."

The boy raises his head, and the same strange transformation occurs again. It feels strange, like feathers fluttering across his skin. "If I have to wear a mask, my name isn't Cole anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous, son."

Cole's stomach boils and he pulls himself into a sitting position despite the protesting from his body and head.  "I'm gonna call myself Cry because I'll never be able to smile, or get angry, or cry anymore. Nobody will ever know me, so nobody will ever know my name."

The boss watches him for a second before stepping out of the room and exiting the lab, leaving Cole alone again.

Cry blinks a few times, shaking uncontrollably. The boss watches him, his grey eyes piercing into him. Cry's brain races, firing question after question that he doesn't have answers for. How far must his loyalty go? How is he supposed to mutate other kids?

"What's the matter with you?" the boss demands.

Cry shakes his head, backing away from his bed. "I have to go."

Without another word, he turns and races from his father's room.