The boy's name was Connor. Although he usually went by the name "Flashback" these days. That was a reference to his super power, the ability to get glimpses of the past. It wasn't all that useful in actual crime fighting, but it did give him a unique edge when actually confronting villains.
How it worked specifically was that sometimes, when he fell asleep at a specific place, he'd get visions of events that had transpired there. It was how he'd found out about the grisly murder of the past tenants of his mediocre apartment. Well, it explained why it was so cheap. Sometimes his little flashbacks were relevant to things going on in the present, sometimes they weren't. Usually they weren't.
Another thing about his flashbacks, they were always in first person. With Connor assuming the identity of someone who'd been present and lived through the events. He always witnessed everything through the eyes of another.
An especially annoying thing, if he'd never actually seen the people present, then they'd look like someone in his life who was their equivalent. For example, in the flashback of the murder that had taken place in his apartment, the family looked like his own family. With the exception of the little brother, since he didn't have one himself. The small child instead appeared to him as a younger cousin he was especially close to. It was surreal. And nightmarish. No one should have to see such a innocent young child beaten to death at the hands of another family member.
The few things that he could interpret as they had been were things like images and videos. Connor guessed that since they were just pictures, his mind didn't have to fill in any gaps with faces from his own personal life. The "best" part of his little flashbacks was that he could see himself, or rather see the person who's memory he was playing out, perfectly. He couldn't say why, but at least it let him know who's life he was looking at.
So yeah, his power was pretty damn useless. Why was he trying to be a hero?
Because, well, he wanted to make a difference. Even if it was just in some small, insignificant way. Even if all he could do was give some insightful backstory, he wanted to do it. Do whatever you can, the best that you can. That's what his dad always said. Connor was determined to be helpful.
Why he thought he'd be helpful tagging along with the actual heroes was a mystery. Even to himself.
The team had finally gotten a stroke of luck, the location of the lair of the shadowy Pink Hat Organization. A group which was fairly small at the moment but had the potential to grow to extreme heights of villainy. There was nothing worse than a villain who armed other villains.
Pink Hat himself was an enigma. He seemed a soft spoken...creature...who was very calm and docile even as everything around burned to ashes. No one knew anything about this ominous being, other than the fact that he clearly wasn't human. He had a monocle covering his right eye, a black top hat with a large soft pink band around it, and dressed semi-formally in all his recorded appearances. Gray dress pants, an untucked pink dress shirt, a flowery tie the same shade of pink as the band around his hat, the few times he'd been spotted outside of his headquarters he'd been sporting a black overcoat with admittedly very nice ruffles.
Connor didn't know why the...man?...had gone with pink of all colors for his ensemble, it didn't strike him as a very villainous color.
While still being the official head of the company, it was rumored that Pink Hat himself did very little aside from managing the budget and paperwork of the affair. The real business was with Dr. Drang.
Dr. Drang, which was most likely an alias, was just as mysterious as his boss. No one even knew what he looked like, given that he always hid his face under a paper bag and tinted goggles. He wore a long black coat over a simple red sweater and black pants. His red boots were knee-high and he also wore rubber gloves at all times, making the only visible part of his body his neck.
He was the ones who actually ran the company. He was the one who designed, built, and shipped out their nefarious weaponry and machinery. Yet he was still listed as an employee of Pink Hat, and the name remained the Pink Hat Organization. No one knew why exactly he hadn't just usurped Pink Hat and taken the company for himself, but Connor figured the deranged man had his reasons.
Maybe Connor could even make himself useful and find them out.
Among Dr. Drang's creations was Sensitivity, a living weapon in the form of a girl. She had long shimmering auburn hair, kept in a humongous pony tail by a pink bow, which was usually obscured by a racoon hood. That, coupled with her usual ensemble of striped periwinkle stockings, a long matching glove reaching her bicep, hikers boots and a delicate black skirt, made discerning her age difficult. She looked young, maybe the 16-20 range.
Connor personally though she was super cute. He wondered why a supposedly evil organization headed by a clearly disturbed individual would produce something, or someone, so...innocent looking.
He soon got his answer. Even with her own personality being sweet and caring most of the time, she was still a super strong genetically engineered biological weapon. And she was very protective of Pink Hat. Connor was shocked to see what such a precious, unsuspecting-looking girl like her was actually capable of.
Dr. Drang's other notable creation was rather unceremoniously referred to as 1.0.1. It was a large blueish-grey bear, not like an actual bear though. It looked more like a teddy bear. For some reason it had a plant sprouting out of it's head. It didn't seem to do much other than just clean up their lair and tend to Pink Hat when he was feeling down. Connor guessed that must've been what Drang created it for, taking care of Pink Hat.
Come to think of it, that was probably the reason for Sensitivity's creation as well.
Connor, or as he was known to his "teammates", Flashback, tagged along on said groups mission to raid the lair of the Pink Hat organization.
It promptly went straight to hell.
Of course Dr. Drang built their abode into a goddamn fortress! Subtlety was clearly not his strong suit (who builds a giant hat and thinks it's inconspicuous?) but defense was. The man was the mad scientist behind the entire organization, did they really think he would've left his home, the place he himself lived in, defenseless?
And now Flashback was separated from the group, with little to no idea where he even was.
He had gotten hit with one of the numerous rays firing at them. Before he himself had been blasted, he noticed a few others had gotten hit as well. He couldn't find anyone else around, though. He didn't think he was dead, and hoped that meant no one else had died either. Hopefully everyone had just been blasted to different locations and was relatively safe.
Connor didn't recognize anything. It was all wilderness and wildlife and it was all strange and peculiar colors. The plants were a rosy sort of pink, the few things that passed for animals were various shades of violet, and the ground was the harsh black of fertile soil. The sky had started out as a soft peach, with light scatterings of pink-ish cotton candy-looking clouds. As the day had gone on, that soft and comforting peach was quickly fading into a dark amber.
After wandering around all day, he was still no closer to figuring out his location or whether or not anyone else had even been transported here, and if they had where they were. His locator pin, which every member had in the event of separation or capture, wasn't picking up anyone else's signal. So he assumed he was alone. His best hope was to keep searching and find some kind of shelter to take refuge in until he was found by the others.
He did come across a multitude of derelict buildings and ruined statues as the sun was setting. It looked like wherever this was, it had been some kind of structure or base a long time ago. He wished he could tell exactly what or who these statues had been of, that might've given him some idea of what this ancient place had been used for. How long ago it had been built he couldn't exactly say, but he estimated a few thousand at least.
He wished he'd paid more attention in school.
Night was falling soon. It would be best to stay put and get some rest. He could continue exploring tomorrow morning, maybe make some kind of signal in case the locator wasn't working for whatever reason. Just in case some friendly faces were nearby and having similar technical difficulties. So Connor went about looking for a place to spend the night.
He settled on sleeping in the biggest spire-like monolith, a large cylindrical obtrusion from the ground made of some dark stone he couldn't name, ringed by a moat of dark muddy water. It was a ghastly looking thing that was cracked and chipped from age and decay.
He found the door along the faded red stones ringing around the towering structure, found it knocked down and servicing as a sort of drawbridge. Connor was surprised to find something that could almost pass for living quarters at the top of the spiral staircase he climbed. He decided to settle in for the night on some piece of furniture that might've been a couch at some point. It was still standing and held his weight and that was all he needed.
Connor closed his eyes a drifted off almost immediately. One upside of having a sleep-based superpower, you fall asleep quick.
When he opened his eyes, his dream eyes that is, he found himself...home.
It was larger than usual, although that didn't seem weird. It felt normal, like this was just the size of things. He felt like a speck among all these colossal yet familiar amenities. It looked exactly like the living room he grew up in. Just...he was now the size of an action figure.
A voice, muffled but growing closer. "You were supposed to have left days ago."
Who was that?
Connor saw a figure rising from the floor. Again, this didn't strike him as odd, even though these was no opening in the carpet to accommodate such a thing. He was finally able to make out the figure and their words.
"Dad?"
His father was still normal size. Or whatever was normal for his father. He seemed just the right height for the room. He sounded a bit...different, though. Connor couldn't say what was different about the voice, but it seemed like perhaps it belonged to someone else.
No, upon hearing it again, he was sure. That was the correct voice. He wondered why it had seemed different before? Surely he couldn't mistake something so familiar as his father's voice.
"I don't care about your excuses," His father hissed into the phone as he began pacing the room. "Get over there NOW. And don't expect me to be forgiving about putting us so behind schedule."
Connor huffed to himself. "What's he so mad about?"
Connor quickly had to move out of his father's way as he stomped the ground around him. Like he didn't even notice his presence.
"Yes, I know there are heroes there! That's why we're expanding our business!" His father continued on with his conversation.
"Uh, hey, Dad?" Connor whisper-yelled. "What's going on? What are you talking about?"
His father didn't seem to hear him.
"You will stick to my orders and you will destroy them!" He said.
"I hate it when he ignores me," Connor said, mostly to himself. Why not? There was no one else around worth talking to. He began making his way across the furniture towards his father. While he kept talking to whoever was on the other line.
"No. No. Do not make me repeat myself."
Connor finally got close enough that he though his father might hear him this time. He called out, trying to be loud this time, "Dad!"
His father either didn't hear or deliberately ignored his cries. "That is unacceptable." He said into the phone again.
Connor rolled his eyes. What could be so important? He leaped onto his father's long coat white coat, the one he wore everyday as a surgeon, and began the arduous task of crawling up.
"Ugh, I'm sick of talking to you. Get in the dimensionator and do your miserable job without being told for once."
Connor made it to his shoulders. Just a bit further…
"Or I'll rip you and that annoying bear to shreds with my own two hands."
"Hey Dad! What are you doing!?" Connor said into his ear, using his loudest indoor-voice. He had spoken into the ear closest to the phone, that way there was no chance of him being ignored. He also took notice of the name on the phone, Dr. Flug.
Connor's father finally took notice of him. Connor realized that his father was now wearing a monocle covering his left eye. The right eye had also lost it's iris, and was now a plain black dot in the center of his eyeball.
"Child, please, a moment." He said. He picked Connor up effortlessly, like this was a normal occurrence in their household, and set him down none to gently back on the floor.
Which was now a sparkling shimmering ebony. The walls were beautiful glass windows, allowing Connor to see the full landscape of the area. The glorious sky was a permanent sunset color, the beautiful landscape was a dazzling shade of pink and violet hues. Oh, it was so lovely. The sight of robots and automatons working against the backdrop of beauty was just perfect. Someday, they would be his.
"Ah, so lovely." Connor tore himself away from the mesmerizing sight. He called out again, "Black!"
He was in a different outfit now. A long black coat had replaced the stark white one from his memories. He was in a more formal get up, a gray vest over a deep red dress shirt. Connor admired the look, even if he preferred a softer, more gentle shade of red himself.
On his head was a top hat with a red band around it.
And all of this stuck Connor as perfectly normal. This was his usual attire, what he wore everyday. Connor wanted to emulate it, but still be his own person.
He sat back down in his lush chair, it had such a high back, it looked so impressive and fancy. Connor hoped he'd have something similar of his own one day.
"Hey Black." Connor said in a soft voice as he approached the larger, more intimidating man.
"Oh, you're still here." He said with disdain clear on his face.
"What are you doing?" Connor was doing his best to be polite and respectful. That was how one spoke to their elders.
"I'm ordering my minions to begin setting up a base on this world." He said blandly.
"Oh, um, I want to order a minion!" Connor said excitedly.
"Well, when you have your own organization and your own minions, you can order them to do whatever you want."
"I...I want an organization!" Connor said with the same amount of gusto.
Connor was ignored again, and Black went back to typing away at the screen. It made such lovely sounds, music to his nonexistent ears. The way Black typed away, with such precision and elegance, he was exactly what Connor wanted to be.
"I...I want one now!" Connor said, getting a bit emotional with how Black was denying him the attention he craved.
An image appeared on the screen. A building in the shape of a top hat. A Black one.
"What is that?" Connor asked in awe.
Black just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm contacting my scientist back in Hatsville."
Connor's eyes went wide with excitement. "Let me do it." He said quietly. This was his chance. His chance to show Black that he was ready, he could have his own organization, his own minions. If he could only show him…
Connor tapped the screen multiple times, like he'd seen Black do, only Connor was sporadic and unsure. He honestly didn't know what any of these things even did. Black lashed out and grabbed him by the arms with a clawed hand tearing through the dark gloves.
"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" He bellowed at him.
Connor was at his breaking point. He just wanted to be a part of the group. Their group. The one he should've already been included in from the moment of his creation.
"Why not?" He asked, close to tears. "You have so many worlds all to yourself and I don't even have one."
Connor finally broke down and let tears spill down his face. "It's not fair!" He whined. "I just want ONE!"
"I, I, I want m-my own minions! I, I want my own b-base!" He demanded, still crying as he struggled to get the words out. "I deserve it!"
"I'm just as important as you!" He sobbed, tears staining the delicate pink chiffon of his shirt.
"THEN WHY DON'T YOU ACT LIKE IT, PINK?"
Even just the way he said his name, it got across all the contempt and disappointment he held for his young charge.
There were no harsh words this time, no insulting comments about his color. It was his color, and he was sensitive about it. But somehow this got his blood churning in a way never had before. He sulked away in his misery, hanging his head and rubbing his arm as if he had been hit. He hadn't been, not physically, but Black's words left an ache in his body that he just had to soothe somehow.
Maybe because his words were just so...true. It stung worse than anything before it ever had. Connor wanted something, anything, just something to take all of his jumbled anger and depression out on.
He clenched his fist, wishing he had something to crush. Maybe if he could destroy something, he could stomp out the emotions swelling up within himself. Make them go away. Make himself like him.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the nearby mirror. His pathetic face scrunched up from trying to fight back the tears that flowed down free regardless of any attempt he made to stop them. How it fogged up the monocle over his right eye. How the tears were ruining his lovely lovely fluffy pink tie. It was a disservice to the Hats.
Pathetic.
Disgraceful.
Nuisance.
Worthless.
He finally let loose. He swung his arm and punched the mirror, only succeeding in creating five more reflections of his shameful image staring back at him in all his lowliness.
And then Connor woke up. He woke up and he was afraid.
Afraid because Pink Hat wasn't a threat. Not truly. Not now, at least. He had the potentially, but his own self-doubt would keep him no more than an ominous warning to their world.
No, the real threat was the one who showed actual competence as an evil leader. Someone who actually was the head of their company. A company that had already expanded into multiple worlds, and that memory was undoubtedly from...Connor couldn't even guess how long ago.
As he got up to clear his head walking into the next room, he was struck with a sudden realization.
He...he recognized this place.
It was the exact same room as he had seen. Only now it was broken and rotting, it had been abandoned centuries ago. Just...just what was Pink Hat? How old was he? What was that other being, the one who was his obvious senior and superior?
Connor retraced the steps he had taken as Pink Hat, leading him back to the same mirror he himself could now remember shattering with his own hand. It was still as fragmented as Pink had left it, the only evidence to the violent act being the hand shaped indent left in the frame.
Connor was shaken. His flashbacks were good for one thing, getting into people's heads. Now that he had some insight on Pink Hat, he desperately needed to find his teammates and tell them all what he'd seen. They needed to know. They needed to know to leave Pink Hat be for now, and focus on the true villainous threat to their world.
Speaking of, that chair and monitor were still here.
Connor hoped against hope that after so much time, it still had some power. If he could just get some kind of signal out, could maybe find one of his teammates, if he could just reach out to someone, anyone! Even if all he could do was send a message, just name the evil lurking around the outskirts of their reality, then maybe they could prepare. Just in case.
Thankfully, it hadn't been too hard to piece together the creatures name.
This work was inspired by the Ominous AU of Avenxizz, who's blog you can visit here. As well as the Steven Universe episode "Jungle Moon". Please visit the blog and show some love to this very underappreciated AU.