The bleach-scented air of the white leather recliner clung to Liberty, a familiar torment in the sterile, unsettling confines of the 'Temple of Gods.' She closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable flashback. The metallic tang of blood filled her nose, drowning out the bleach, as she was plunged into a war-torn street. Bodies lay everywhere, a grotesque tapestry of pain and suffering, the air thick with screams and whimpers. She walked, dazed, through the carnage, the scene a haunting tableau of a city massacred. The metallic taste of blood was inescapable.

Just as quickly, the vision flickered, replaced by the welcomed burn of bleach. "Hello Liberty, Good to see you again," Charles's voice oozed, pulling her back to the horrifying present. He stood there, a predatory smile on his face, radiating bad vibes. "Anything to report? Anything of interest to discuss?" he prodded. Liberty, always defiant, spat out her usual retort, knowing the dance. She was ushered into the lab for testing, another weekly ritual of humiliation and control. She was a Healer and a Green Thumb, two gifts in a world that would rather see her dead. She had to hide it, always.