Saving Match
A DC x OC Fanfic
Author's note: I do not own the DC character Match, as he will be the only DC Character in the story, nor do I own the concepts of the Agenda and cloning. The others are strictly from me and my made-up concepts. I hope you enjoy this regardless.
CHAPTER 1: Rescue
Noel watched as the base fell apart. He worried; his trooper Piers was still inside. He had to go inside and help him. He was trained for this, but being trained and mentally prepared tended to be two different things. He was still a minor, for Pete's sake.
Dressed for combat, he entered the facility. On his way there, he saw the heroes fly away. Agenda was in shambles, and he'd have to move quick if he was to rescue Piers. He tried his communicator, and he got a faint static before he heard his voice. "Piers, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear. Just had to hide for awhile," he answered. "The data should be ready soon. I'm in Sector 45."
"Good. I'm on my way." Noel made a dash for a corner and looked up the map of the area with his device. He planned his route and kept moving, up until he stopped at a large circular room full of holding cells. He tried to ignore the test subjects and kept moving, seeing floating carcasses and pieces of flesh. He'd been through worse, but it didn't really make things easier.
Noel was just a floor from Sector 45 when he saw a body on the ground. His nurse-and-medic instincts instantly kicked in, and he moved over to the body to investigate. It was pale and muscular, with white hair. He saw it breathe, and he realized he was alive. "Shoot, what's wrong with him?"
Noel gave a quick look over the front and back. He felt heavy out-cold, but he didn't seem to have any injuries.
"Noel!" Noel snapped his head down the hall, where he saw Piers running towards him. His short brown faux hawk was a mess, and his blue eyes were a little bit panicked. "Noel, let's go!" he whisper-yelled. "God, that's one of their clones."
"Let's bring him back with us," Noel muttered.
"Whatever. We just gotta go." Piers wasn't in any mood to argue and he moved to help the mysterious albino up. They jogged for the exit and managed to escape incoming security. They marched their way back to the jeep and prepared to leave, their rescue project sleeping softly in the back. "God damn it, I should have told you to leave him. We could be compromised."
Noel frowned. "Maybe, but I couldn't leave him there. Something didn't sit right with me when I saw him."
Piers gave a thoughtful look at him and back at the albino. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"I do. Drive us out of here. I'll cover you."
Valentine Enterprises, an international company specializing in weapons development, medical research, and real estate. They were small, a little unheard of, but they offered unique and efficient solutions to various kinds of people. They had a small team of special operatives who cleared up certain problems beyond local and governmental authorities: the Enterprise. It was a covert-ops group dedicated to pissing off drug-trade handlers and kidnapping circles. They brought their brand of justice, pissing bad guys off as much as possible.
Noel was a proud member of the team. Under their record, he's had a number of nicknames, especially with his special talents. As such, and his connections and training, he was given a high rank, though titles were more often than not bragging rights; there is no real hierarchy, though they look up to a leader, and Noel showed some potential when it came to medical issues.
Which was why he got the medical bay prepped over their comm links before they even got back to their temporary base of operations, an abandoned, pimped-out warehouse home.
"Get him on the bed, now!" Noel ordered Piers. He turned to some of his team. "Is the scanner ready yet?"
"Prepped and ready to fire, chief!" the peppy Japanese sniper cheered, her short purple bob swaying as she jogged over to see the would-be casualty. "Wow, he would look good if he didn't look so sick."
"I think he's been degrading for a while," Noel muttered. "I just get the feeling he's dying inside." He marched to the medical room and watched as the scanner did its thing. It made a proper diagnosis and mentioned multiple gradual body failures. "God, he's dying..."
Noel walked over to the body and did the unthinkable. He pulled off his glove, rolled up his sleeve, and sliced his wrist open. Everyone in the team watched as Noel used his magic. "By my blood! Return to better days!"
The blood spread and multiplied before sinking into the clone. He writhed and grunted as it sank in and let it do its magic. Noel smiled to himself when he started looking less pale. Just as he was about to move to have a closer look, Piers clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That was reckless."
"Couldn't think of a way to help with so many body failures," Noel sighed. "Sorry."
"I know. You're too compassionate about saving lives, though. But I guess that's why you have the Blood of the Martyr." Piers saw the breathing grow even. "Wow, he looks better already."
Noel nodded and stepped back before his legs buckled. Piers caught him before he fell to the floor. "Hehe... too much power..."
Piers sighed and turned to Marcus, the African-Nigerian immigrant who was their personal team engineer. "Marcus, help me out with this, would ya?"
Marcus nodded and hoisted Noel into his arms. "Sometimes I forget how young he is. It's scary how he can think like someone twice his age."
"Tell me about it," Piers huffed. He was only two years older than Noel, but he sure as hell saw Noel as someone to take charge. Age mattered not to him; he knew what would be necessary, and he let his team throw in suggestions if there was time to consider it. "I'll report to Chris to prepare the portal tomorrow. We should leave soon."
That night, Noel walked out of his bed and sat on a chair next to the bed they prepared for the clone. He looked a lot like Superboy; he figured this must have been the rumored Match. He could only imagine what he'd been through.
He asked himself why he really saved him. What did he see in him?
Lost and abandoned, like I was? Maybe. I must be too sympathetic. Or too assuming. Maybe both.
He didn't care. He'd done and helped him. Now to see where it'd go.