This was a sort of random idea that wouldn't leave me alone, that ended up being written in Mechanics, though less fleshed out. You asked for it, so here you go! Chapter 1 is alot like the original, but it'll be all new stuff after this. Enjoy!
I own a headache, from trying to write a smart person.
The image was fuzzy.
Static blurred the edges of his vision, turning the world around him into a bad movie. Not that there was really much to see. He couldn't make out very much beyond the small circle of light that surrounded him.
Dark blurs loomed around him, shapes reaching in from the sides of his vision. He couldn't turn his head to see the rest of his surroundings. With a jolt of panic, he found that he couldn't move. It was like the time his system froze. He had been left stranded in the garage for a whole night. Beast Boy had found him that morning, lying flat on his face on the cold concrete. At least then, he knew somebody would eventually check on him. He didn't even know where he was. All he could do was stare straight forward into the rest of the dark room and wait.
A bright rectangle of light appeared, laying a carpet of light across the floor that ended at his feet. It blinded him for a moment. Then a slim silhouette moved into the doorway, casting a shadow down the length of the room. Then the doors closed without a sound, and the room fell into darkness again.
He couldn't hear, move, and could barely see. Not to mention he had no idea where he was. Now, there was this person walking around in the dark. This was a whole new ballpark. He had to be ready for anything.
The entire room was suddenly flooded with light. Lights all around the room came on around him, revealing the shadows to be the shapes of tool boxes and storage systems. It actually looked sort of familiar, except for the fact he couldn't distinguish anything beyond general size and shape. A blurry figure was moving around the room, touching the grey walls. Where ever the person-shaped blur stopped, portions of the wall would light up into blue screens covered with white scrawls. He followed the blur's movement around the room with his eyes while he strained his memory. If he could remember, he might be able to counteract whatever damage had been done that had left him unable to move.
There was nothing. He could remember breakfast, training. Then video games and an alert, before nothing. Hours were completely missing from his memory.
What happened?
You were transported 27 years from the past to the future. There was an anomaly or something. Whoever sent you here had really faulty equipment. People shouldn't play with the time-space continuum if they can't figure out how to handle power surges. Anyways, it drained your power, and you shut down.
Cyborg would have jumped if he could have moved. A telepath, perfect. He had never really been comfortable to the idea of someone else being able to simply sift through his mind. Beast Boy had told him stories about his old leader, who had been a strong enough telepath to leave people jibbering on the floor. Robin had stories too, about insane people that wrenched away control and created armies of near-zombies. He had thought they were just playing with him. Until Raven demonstrated how easy it was. She wasn't the strongest telepath, but she still managed to control Beast Boy long enough to beat him at a game of chess.
He tried to bring up a list of telepathic rouges, but couldn't. His databases were down. All of them. He was really starting to panic. Couldn't let it show though, had to be tough. This guy had to be really bad, to take him captive and disrupt all his systems. He just had to stay calm.
What? Shut down?
Well, more like crashed. But it isn't a big deal. I've managed to get all the important systems online. Life support, internal regulators, CPU. Took about three days, but what does that matter. It was really a piece of cake, seeing as how it's all old systems. The difficult part was trying to keep the rest of you stable while I fixed them. Almost lost you, but you should be in the clear now. I mean, you wouldn't be able to have this type of conversation if you were about to give out on me. You wouldn't be able to focus enough. Or maybe you would, if you were just being stubborn. But you don't have enough power to try and move around or be running any extra programs, so no mental Minesweeper or anything like that. It took a little more time than I was expecting, but I got your old charger to work. You should be up to full power in about...three days. No wait, wrong project. Four hours.
The thoughts were accompanied by faint images and the echoes of sounds that floated around his mind before fading away. Cyborg blinked, trying to clear his head of his talkative host and the rush of ideas that weren't his. He needed room for his own thoughts. A bad guy wouldn't have fixed him. Probably would have just left him to rot. And that was the sorriest excuse for a monologue he had ever heard. Not a single death threat or promise of worldwide destruction.
Everything looks normal. Heart rate is stable, power level rising steadily. I'm pretty sure I've gone over everything, but if there's anything specific you want me to tweak...
Umm, I think there's something wrong with my optic feed... and my audio.
Alright. Let me check it out.
The blur finished with the newest touch screen and walked across the room to where he was propped up. Snatching up a few tools on the way, he moved around behind and out of his field of limited vision. After a few moments, sound suddenly reappeared in the form of gentle beeping and the rustling of clothing. A faint sigh came from behind him. A teenaged voice, male by the sounds of it.
"Why didn't you say you couldn't hear anything?"
I didn't know...wait, how do you even know how to do that? How did you know how to do any of this? Nobody but me and the Titans know how to put me together. And none of them know how to work the more delicate stuff.
His new repairman laughed. It was a familiar sound, like a remix of an old favorite song.
"You can actually talk if you want. I'm just used to using my mind. My mom says I was projecting my thoughts before I was born."
His tongue felt thick as he watched the room slowly became clearer. It was his room. He was on his bed table, in his room. Even though it was different. The paint was faded and pictures he had never seen before were scattered around.
"That's not what I asked you. How did you know how to fix me? And how did you get into the Tower?"
Another laugh. It was odd listening to it. He wasn't sure where he knew the sound from. The difference was subtle but enough to throw him off.
"I live here. And you showed me. Or you will show me. Seeing as how when you're from, I don't even exist. Well not yet."
"What...who are you?" Job complete, the kid moved around to face him.
For a moment, he was sure he was looking at Beast Boy. The same slim build and lanky limbs. Big eyes, green, pointed ears. Then he saw the little things. The hair was too long, and his best friend rarely wore a t-shirt and jeans. There was no fang. But there was a tattoo, peeking out from underneath a shirt sleeve.
The near look-a-like smiled Beast Boy's smile.
"A friend. Don't worry. It'll all work out, I promise."
He didn't have a chance to ask more questions. Fainting had a tendency to make interrogations rather difficult.