I lost a good friend almost two years ago. I was severely depressed for much of this time. Reading Doggberttcarroll in general and more specifically; With this ring, Assimilation, and A Subtle knife have helped give me something to look forward to. So to honor my friend and to get out of my funk i decided to write a self insert set in the bones of the Young Justice universe.
Edit: Wow, can't believe i forgot the thanks to Doggbertcarrol whos work for years has keep me going through the hard times. The Stories; With This Ring, A Subtle Knife, Assimilation, and Sunshine Superman have all been huge inspirations in motivating me to do something with my mourning.
I have begun revisions. I will leave old story up but threadmarks will be modified. New story will be next threadmark.
Episode 1: New Year, New Life
Jan 01/2010
00:01 AM
Coming to awareness is a gradual process, one I resist as long as possible. A warmth surrounds me fully, its embrace soothing. The harder I try to return to sleep however, the more my mind begins to wake. Sounds of churning bubbles get me to open my eyes in irritation. With sight available, I realize immediately blissful sleep will be an impossibility.
My bedroom has become some kind of sterile lab. It contains a single desk with an off-white computer monitor. The room is a fairly spacious one with mint green walls and a digital clock with glowing red letters, displaying the time of zero zero zero two. The only other thing of note I see is a black man with a crew cut sitting behind the computer. My bed has also changed. It's become some kind of cylindrical glass column. I'm floating inside, suspended by a very warm amber gel. Somehow I'm able to breathe unaided in this substance.
The shock is keeping my panic suppressed for now. When I look down, I'm disturbed to find I have been changed from my warm flannel pajamas. Currently I'm wearing a full body white spandex unitard. With no discernible markings and only my hands, feet and head uncovered, I still feel naked somehow in this tight get up. Something is off about my hands so I bring one to my face for closer inspection.
My once skeletal hands have become massive meat gloves of milk white skin tone. Coarse black hair sprouts thickly on the back of my fist. Clenching my albino fist, I can feel strength I had only ever dreamed of. Of course that would make sense, I'm clearly dreaming. My self inspection has drawn the man at the desk's attention, getting him to quickly tap a few things into his console and rise to his feet.
The goo I'm cocooned inside begins to drain though the floor extremely quickly. In seconds, in fact, I'm standing on my own two feet and shivering. The glass parts in the middle, exposing me to the frigid air. Stepping out of the tank on shaky but powerful legs, I come to a stop before the scientist. He pushes his glasses up his nose and pulls a pen from his lab coat.
"Project Lobotomy." I'm addressed with clinical detachment. "Glad the third Starro finally worked. Mr Luthor was becoming… difficult." Without waiting for an answer, he marks a few things down on a clipboard. Next, he pokes me a few times and I'm still too stunned to react. His name tag says Stockman and I focus on that until a syringe is revealed. He brings it towards my arm and I panic. I try to swat his hand away from me. Instead, I strike him so hard he's lifted off his feet and flies across the room. Stockman slams in into the wall, cracking it. Staring at his unmoving body I begin to hyperventilate.
Hours pass as I stand there freaking out over killing my doctor. A look at the clock reveals only six minutes have gone by since I woke up. Ok, I can see him twitching a little so he's still alive.
"I'm not a murderer, that's good." I mutter to myself in relief. Taking advantage of my chance to learn what the hell is going on, I rush around the desk and look at the screen. The open display shows an empty tank with my vitals grayed out. I minimize it and begin checking through a folder labeled 'Photos'. Inside are a six pictures.
The first shows me what looks like a round blue school bus with no wheels. It looks like it fell from the air and crashed through a forest canopy into a hillside. The second is a picture of a live action version of Mark Hamill's Joker. It's a mugshot of him grinning maniacally towards the camera. I'm confused now. What, is the doctor a fan of comics? I gag when I see the Joker again in the third picture. He's been torn in half and his head is lying beside him. Clicking faster now, the fourth picture is of Harley Quinn, her whole jester get up and everything. Hoping not to see another body, I continue.
Picture five is another Joker cosplay. This one looks like the version from the new The Batman show. He's in an empty glass cell suspended in blackness. It kind of looks like a unicorn is in another cell beside him. Strange. Six is of Lobo, the real life version again. He's floating in a tank of yellow fluid kind of like I was not long ago. He's also wearing the same jumpsuit I am but he has waist length ebony dreadlocks floating behind him. And I have--. I reached up to calm my growing suspicions only to find the displayed hairstyle and something squishy and slimy.
Grabbing it, I pull it from my head to get a look only to throw it to the concrete floor in horror. It's a freakish pink starfish with a massive unblinking eye on one side and a mouth leaking a frothy white drool from the underside. I've seen these in that Batman Beyond episode. That's a Starro, but it's barely moving. My only way to learn more is on the computer so I return to the files. Why there's pictures of Harley and the Joker, I have no idea.
When I find journal entries I know I have found my goal. Reading them, however, leaves me with answers I don't like all so much. An entity who became known as the Joker crashed in 1978 and went on a twelve year crime spree. After a battle with Batman in a sawmill, he fell onto a conveyor belt. The head regrew, becoming the one known as Joker Jr. whose actions so far, have him acting nearly the same as his father. Many believe Jr. is in fact the regenerated Joker. He has been contained in a separate facility. His torso and lower halves also regrew, each into a new unique body. Harlequin is much less violent so far far but has joined up with a crew she calls her Royal Flush gang. As of yet they have only targeted low profile targets like casinos, leaving no need to apprehend her while we continue to observe her actions in the wild.
Having the torso here, we infused the third new body with DNA from Project Phantom. Lobotomy has become much more muscular and has an estimated strength in the range of fifty tons. This is greatly superior to his family's barely above baseline human strength. So far, the project's regeneration has caused two Starro to die from exhaustion. Fortunately, the third Starro's memory implants are working better. It is merging the fragmented knowledge of the earlier two attempts and the genetic memory of the Joker.
I stop reading and frown in concern. Is this really saying my memories of my entire life are fake? I'm not even the first version they tried to make? I'm Kyle three point oh. Hell, is Kyle even really my name then? The longer I'm awake the harder and harder it's getting to remember clear memories of my life. I think I was in my senior year of high school, but can't remember any of my classes or even my friends' faces. I can't even picture my family now. I know I want my mom. I remember her being there and caring for me but I cant remember any specifics of her.
I can remember watching versions of superheros on TV and reading about them in comics. Why are these files acting like it's all real? Trying to focus on any memory of these is bringing me contrary versions with drastically different art styles. I'm going to have to deal with this once I'm out of here. Right. Escape now, crumble to tears over my identity crisis later. With the beginnings of a plan, I enter the elevator and press the button to go up a floor. One by one until I find a window or building plan, I guess. When the doors close with a whoosh of displaced air the elevator begins to rise.
It's a quick ride up with the doors opening showing me a near identical room, except one with maybe two dozen tanks instead of one. The scientist at the desk doesn't notice my presence behind him. Not waiting for him to have a chance to react, I rush at his back with a mighty kick. His face smashes into his monitor leaving him unconscious at the desk and his computer with a smashed screen on the floor. That was not handled well, I can admit. So, time to see what's in one of these tanks. Hopefully I'm not going to find a bunch more Joker clones, kids, or whatever I am.
All but one of the tanks contains a white humanoid form like mine. Already not a good sign. Really, the men look like albino versions of J'onn J'onzz and even the children are bald and big headed. The females have more rounded heads like a human with stringy orange hair. Each has a Starro on their head and none are moving. A single pod holds a green martian. She's not nearly as bright as I remember the Manhunter's skin being. Hers is actually paling before my eyes. Not wanting to allow whatever is going on to finish with the girl, I smash an elbow into the glass allowing it to to drain.
Quickly, I reach in and grasp the lavender starfish on her head and tear it free. It blinks up at me and begins to struggle so I toss it at the wall with a wet squelch. The martian inside stirs as the fluid empties, her skin tone already looking a more vibrant green. She brushes her cherry red hair from her face and her blue eyes focus on me.
<What's going on? Where's my family?!> Her panic rises at the large albino man before her. <No, no, no! The White Plague can't be on earth too."> Her voice cracks in despair. I step back, hoping to relieve her panic at me and think in confusion. White plague? I know what the Black Plague is. Am I remembering it wrong? Her head tilts cautiously and I hear her voice again. <You don't have the White plague?> OK, her mouth didn't move but I heard that. <And you aren't telepathic on earth?> she asks timidly.
"Not as far as I know." I shrug and remember martians are psychic. Going to have to get used to having people in my head if I really am living in a world with superpowers. She's way better looking then the Starro though, so it could be worse. "I was in one of these tank things a floor down when I broke out." Grimacing, I explain, "Those Star things seem to be messing with our heads so I smashed you out. The ones in the other pods seemed finished so I chose to get you out first." I declare, admitting my lack of any further plan.
Finally she leaves the protection of her glass chamber, floating into the air. The martian girl becomes translucent and then passes right through the glass. I wonder if I can fly too? The files said I was spliced with a phantoms' DNA and ghosts can fly, right? Can't they also go through walls? Is she Project Phantom? My staring is making her self conscious. She blushes a jade color and asks,
<Well, thanks then.> She frowns. <I don't know how long I was in there, they kept trying to make me think what they wanted me to.> Yeah, I conclude.
"Definitely brainwashing aliens here then. They were doing the same to me." I admit with some trepidation. "Most of my memories are implanted actually." Widening eyes greet this, followed by her soft reply, finally out loud.
"I'm sure once we find my father he can help you sort them out." She has such an adorably hopeful expression, I smile and nod choosing not to dash her hopes yet. "My name is M'gann." she introduces herself. I have a decision to make, I realize. Do I give my remembered name and go for total honesty? Or do I try going with the amnesiac route since it's so inviting. Is it easier to believe everything I know is make believe? Or do I accept everyone I have ever known is dead, or at least lost to me forever? I make up my mind.
"I guess you can call me Lobotomy. That's the name the doctor called me." Yeah this will be easier then wallowing in the misery of my lost home, I conclude to myself. Really the only way I might be able to keep going once the shock is over. M'gann wraps my massive frame in a hug with her delicate arms. Think quieter if I want privacy, I note. Her voice in my head is full of sympathy.
<I lost my home too, that's why my family was trying to escape to Earth.> Releasing my tension, I pat her back softly a few times.
"Thanks." my answer is chock full of emotion. "Let's, uh. Lets see who's in these other tanks." I offer, hoping to end this embarrassment I feel. She nods, her shoulder length hair bobbing along. When we look inside the nearest glass tank she gives off a horrified gasp.
<K'hymm.> she mumbles, even in my head. M'gann hurries around the room in a desperation that continues to rise, each martian's identity adding to her loss. <I need to get away from here.> her panic clear in my mind. <Please,> she begs, <they're my family, and no one's ever had their mind restored after turning white.> Nodding my agreement, I lead her to the elevator.
"Yeah, let's find a way out of here." I answer calmly. "Looks like we have a few more floors to check." Embarrassed, I admit, "Please don't let me wreck any more computers. I'm not really very good with them" I receive a giggle, better then I was hoping really, all things considered.
<I'l try.> is her reply. I'm stopped from answering when the doors part before us. Yet another identical room is before us. So far only the number of pods in each room has been different. I leap forward and grab the guard in a chokehold. He struggles but a gesture from M'gann has him sleeping in my arms. This room contains four tanks of apparently human occupants.
Checking the files on the computer as fast as possible reveals this floor contains Project Phantom. Four Kryptonian children, obtained when General Zod attacked from the Phantom Zone. His three year old son, along with three other children ages seven to thirteen also retrieved upon his defeat. Something in the phantom zones very make up has modified these kryptonians.
No longer reliant on solar light of any color, they can charge their cells with power from any known light source. This came at a trade off. Their maximum power levels and recorded strength are only at 60% of Superman and Supergirl's own. Over time the older children have become attuned with their Starro. Kon-Zod, however, has not. His brain has been resistant to memory implantation. So far only general knowledge has been implanted, combat orders are to begin implementation in the new year.
I get M'gann to take a look and we conclude only this 'Kon' should be released. When his tank drains he begins floating towards us. Seriously, can everyone but me fly? M'gann grabs the Starro with her mind and flings it away from the sixteen yer old teen. I step in front of him and get his attention cautiously.
"Hey there, are you doing alright? I'm Lobotomy and this is M'gann." I gesture at the green girl. "We busted out of our own pods. We're experiments, it looks like we're being made to kill superheros." Here my grin turns savage. "So, clearly were being held by the bad guys." He nods slowly, coming to the same conclusion. "Let's free anyone else who hasn't been controlled yet and get the hell out of here!" Both agree enthusiastically. A loud speaker crackles on with a sneering voice declaring,
"Such a shame. We spent so much time and money and each of you." The speaker takes a dramatic pause." But if you insist on this escape plan I will have to declare you failures and begin anew." We pause for only a second before Kon roars at the ceiling.
"I'm coming for you!" the raw fury gives the voice I now recognize as Dr. Stockman pause.
"If you insist. So be it." His tone takes on a menacing growl. "Let us see if you have as much luck recruiting Project Firestorm." And with that, his voices leaves us alone. M'gann worriedly declares,
<Firestorm does not sound good.> While Kon grabs his head and winces at her voice, she admits. <My people really don't do well with fire.> Glaring at her, Kon growls.
"I have had enough with things in my head telling me what to think." He jabs a finger towards her in frustration. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Brain!" She squeaks out an apology and we enter the elevator, hoping to move past the awkwardness. This room is more like mine only a single pod. However, it has no scientist at the desk and no computer either. He must have grabbed it and escaped.
Inside the tank floats an orange skinned buxom model. She's in the same white unitard we all have on but she really fills hers out. Her hair flows around like a cape of flowing white, nearly reaching her feet. Unlike everyone else, her eyes are open and she doesn't look pleased to see us.
The woman I would call Starfire's sister, if only more physically mature compared to the version I remember from Teen Titans, begins to clench her fists and growl. In a flash her hair changes from an ivory white to a raging crimson, nearly blood red. Her eyes are now glowing the same color and red flames begin to wrap around her body.
In seconds she stands imposing before us. Even my six foot two size only reaches her nose. Filling her tank with flames, it explodes, sending molten glass shards across the room. Several pieces of shrapnel embed themselves into me.
Searing pain blossoms along my left side from the holes drilled through me. The molten glass cauterizing my wounds instantly, causing me hiss out in pain. M'gann avoided danger by phasing through the wall of glass sent towards her. Kon was able to tank the shards of glass easily. Reacting on instinct it seems, he rushes at her.
She meets him in the air grappling at near even strength. Two well muscled bodies, both straining gloriously with the effort. In Project Firestorms blind rage, Kon is able to overpower her, slamming her back against the walls repeatedly. Each impact cracking the walls more. On her head, the Starro controlling her has become a charred black. the flames and color of her eyes have changed to a yellow as she begins fighting more frantically to free herself from his hold.
Several swift knees to his gut do just that and with her newfound freedom rockets behind us. The Starro once controlling her falls from her head. Like an overcooked pastry it crumbles. Sending a wave of golden flames at the steel doors, they rapidly warp and give way. She escapes into the elevator shaft and propels herself upwards. She's gone for now but will kind of be in our way later. Her flight... why can everyone but me fly? Wait, I have some of Kons DNA and he can fly. Maybe I can, too?
Sucking in my pride, I jump as high as I can, willing myself to remain in the air with all of my might. I make a few more attempts before desperately flapping my arms like a goose in flight. My attempts to fly are met with a pair of shocked expressions. M'gann asks in concern,
<Are you alright>? Kon doesn't hear this and also asks,
"What are you doing, you look ridiculous." Chuckling to mysel, I admit after a few seconds pause,
"I was, um... Trying to fly." I defend myself at the raised eyebrow he gives me, "Hey, all three of you can. I had to try." Sitting on my rear after my last attempt dropped me, I wryly finish, "I guess you can call me Fall-Down Boy." M'gann gives me a giggle while Kon continues to stare before replying,
"Ok, Fall-Down Boy it is." and begins rising after Firestorm. M'gann lifts me telepathically and follows after him, the elevator now a pile of smoldering scrap below us. With the shaft aflame now and with smoke filling it, she begins to falter. She reaches out mentally to explain,
<The flames are so big,> Here she shudders, <I can't go any higher.> While her mind's voice is shaking I grab her hand and think as hard as I can, focusing on each word like a neon sign so she can hear me.
<I'll be our eyes, you be our wings,> I smile even though she can't see it. <because if we don't get out now, the fire's going to spread.> Her genuine laughter surprises me,
<You don't need to think each word at me, just clearly direct the whole message.> She gives me a big grin and teases, <Even children aren't so bad.> She does close her eyes, though, and allows me to guide us up. We don't get out on the next floor this time, instead passing dozens of doors on our ascent. Firestorms trail of flames rising hundreds of feet up. Its only at the shafts top she chose to leave.
Melting her way onto the highest floor available, she didn't go far into the lobby of the office building. Because instead of fighting, she has her hands on either side of Kon's Face and her lips pressed against his.
For his part, Kon stands stock still with both arms firmly against his side. He has a rigid back and eyes full of panic. Noticing our arrival, Firestorm - again with ivory hair and eyes - greets us in English.
"Many Apologies, fellow prisoners. My earlier actions were not of my own." she steps back from Kon and looks at us contritely. "I was being controlled by the Fleshy Star. Once free, I panicked and fled." looking embarrassed, she adds.
"This one caught up to me." she gestures to Kon. "I feared a fight, but you tried the talking with me." tilting her head to one side she asks. "Why?" He frowns and considers the question before answering,
"We were all in a tank with one of those things telling us what to think and how to feel." he admits to us all. "It was frightening. And I could see how scared you were when yours burnt off." He holds out a hand and introduces himself. "My name is Kon-Zod." She grasps his hand with both of hers and shakes it vigorously.
"New friends, I am Kori'andr. Princess of Tamaran." Releasing Kons grasp, she sticks a hand out for M'gann and I. When we each grab one, she shakes then vigorously. I have to ask about what we floated in on, my curiosity needs to be satiated.
"What was with the whole lip lock thing?" The honest confusion in my voice has her laugh out an explanation.
"In Tamarans past, we warred amongst ourselves. Our sorcerors' came together and enchanted our peoples blood." Her look of pride at these ancients from her past speaks of a good reason. "Now when we kiss, we are exchanging languages. This was done so ours would end." Kon chimes in, changing the subject back to our introductions.
"The green girl is M'gann, she's a martian." He points to me next, "And he calls himself Fall-Down boy." I groan, "My name is Lobotomy." I consider how to explain my reasoning for a name change. "I learned in my tank, on Earth people who battle crime use a code name and wear a costume. It inspires civilians and gives the enemy an appropriate target." What kid doesn't want to be a hero? I know I did. Here and now, when I'm in a world of aliens and superpowers I have a very good chance of doing it.
If the files are right about my brain healing the memories they created, who knows how long I'm even going to exist. Might as well live out a dream before I cease. I stand a little straighter and announce, "If these people were trying to make me kill people who save the world, I feel responsible for stopping them. I can also admit it's likely the only way I'll ever know more about what they did to me." Frowning, I explain I'm stronger then my species is supposed to be. Like, a lot stronger. Kori'andr smiles at me in empathy.
"Likewise, they did the changes to me. My kind lack the control over flames I have been given." She looks down at her fists and green flames appear. "Now when I feel strong emotion I can do more then fly. I can reflect my feelings into fire." She looks to us and nods.
"I am of the agreement. If those who hold us wish for us to kill these heroes, we shall instead join them. As stars change fire over time, this shall be the name I wear for battles." she finishes proudly. Kon who has been nodding along adds.
"I'm pretty powerful." he adds with a careful smile. "I think I'l be going by Powerboy." Our smiles of encouragement settle it for him. M'gann agrees with us, finally looking like her strength has returned.
"These monsters turned my family into mindless savages," her expression grim and voice stern, "they spoiled my family so I'm going to spoil them!" Making eye contact with each of us in turn, she declares, "Call me The Spoiler." Our newfound good cheer doesn't last long. Stockmans' Voice crackles to life on the intercom once again.
"Children. I gave you a chance to return to your pods. Now, Mr. Luthor wants you alive," the voice loses all warmth as he finishes, "but barely breathing is still alive. Plasmus, have some fun." Crashing glass from overhead signals for us to jump away. A mass of brownish purple ooze pools on the floor before rising into a vaguely humanoid form. Towering above us at a good twelve feet tall, his 'face' forms a smirk and he sends a tendril of ooze towards each of us.
I struggle all I can but its like being an ant in glue. I'm trapped and as the goo begins tightening around my body I check my comrades. Starfire has ignited into green flames, her eyes radiating raw will power as she struggles. All her efforts only serve to cook Plasmus around her sealing her with rapidly diminishing air.
Powerboy is likewise unable to bring his strength to bear and his furious glares only leave small patches of hardened ooze. Spoiler has done as her name implies and phased free. She frantically catches sight of our trapped forms and dodges a new tendril, this one sharpened like skewer. Several more frantic stabs fly towards her before she goes intangible gain. She locks eyes on me and flies through my cage, bringing me with her into freedom.
<We have to get the others free. Try and distract him.> are my instructions. I try my best but Plasmus is hurling globs of corrosive tar, sending them out in frenzied waves in every direction. Moving faster than a body with my bulk has any right to I dodge around his attacks. After the first few strikes, a pattern of swelling ooze became an obvious sign of where the next attack was coming from. I'm able to tear a door free from it's frame. With my makeshift shield I'm able to charge straight into center mass of the monster.
The force I crash into it with splatters the ooze all around me. Plasmus is able to reform itself fast with me inside him. Only my head and a single arm remain free from my corrosive cage. Pain burns across my body as Plasmus begins eating away at my skin. My only saving grace is how mild his acidity is, painful but not immediately fatal. Frantically I struggle to free myself but to no avail. With ooze pulling me deeper inside hoping to drown me, I gaze at my companions who are no better off.
M'gann, only able to remain intangible for seconds at a time, has been grabbed and is being crushed against the floor. Kori was unable to free herself and is encased in a shell of hardened tar weakly struggling, her flames nearly extinguished. Kon has been grabbed by his legs and is being slammed between the floor and ceiling, the rapid impacts stopping him from countering. Alarms are blaring and smoke billows forth from the flaming elevator shaft. My last sight before being completely submerged is a window exploding inwards. Three teenage figures crash inside and roll to their feet, in costume and ready for action.
