Once upon a time, there was a person, and that person was me. And that's all I knew.
At least, it was all I knew, until I found myself in a city full of people. There was chaos and confusion, injuries and falls, and I didn't know what to make of it all. A man came and grabbed me. Dr. Bartley. He led me to a place full of people. It was all white. A hospital, he called it.
He taught me to speak and to understand what others said. I was a fast learner, he told me. Dr. Bartley decided that I had amnesia, which I found out from the computer he let me on that it is "a loss of a large block of interrelated memories; complete or partial loss of memory caused by brain injury, shock, etc."
He said I was a strange case.
Dr. Bartley liked to do tests on me. He took me in his basement after he found out something odd in my blood work. He said it was odd, how I had so much conductive metal in my body, mostly silver, too. As he told me this, he scratched his head, which I though was an odd behavior in itself.
I looked online again to find that silver is the most electrically conductive metal. I still didn't understand. I tried to follow what Dr. Bartley said to me, but he used a lot of technical phrases and long words, things that I most likely had no use for in my life before my memory disappeared. So, that meant that I had no idea what he was talking about.
I learned a lot from him though, and he learned a lot from the cells in my body, apparently. He talked a lot about how his discoveries would completely change the course of medicine. The abundant metals in my body were something new and unseen before. He tried to give me a CAT scan, but the metals in my body interfered with the machine. He was unable to get an accurate reading.
One day, something Dr. Bartley did changed something in my body. He later told me that he broke down the wall that kept the abilities hidden from me.
I was telekinetic, could control energy, and had the power of flight.
We practiced a lot with my abilities. He tried different ways of advancing my powers to their "full potential." I accidentally shocked him many times. But I grew to depend on the doctor.
Dr. Bartley moved us out to the country three months after he found me. It gave us more space for training. He put me on a rigorous diet and exercise regimen for the mornings when he was at the hospital and we worked on my mind and my powers when he came home in the afternoons. He taught me to fight, and had many different people come and teach me different types of martial arts, and boxing, and much, much more. He wanted me to be able to take people down first with my fists and only use my powers when absolutely necessary. The doctor made me a suit that worked with my powers and didn't hinder them. He packed it in a bag and hid it in a special compartment in the lab that only opened with his or my thumbprint. It was for 'emergencies.'
I didn't understand what he meant until the night he died. Whoever created me must have found us and didn't want Dr. Bartley to keep me. They wanted me back.
Dr. Bartley was grabbed, knocked to the ground. He bled. But he insisted I didn't go with them.
I didn't. When they killed him, I reacted. I used my training. I came so close to killing them. So close. But that's not what the doctor would want me to do.
I left them there and took the backpack. I disappeared, having learned my lesson. I wouldn't let others die. Using the address from Dr. Bartley's note—he left it in the bag—I journeyed to an apartment in Gotham City and transferred all the doctor's funds to my own bank account.
That's how I ended up here, in Gotham. That's how I ended up using the high tech computer and the gadgets in my bag to fight the endless amount of crime in this city. During the days, I trained. During the nights, I delivered justice.
Tonight was no different.
I crouched low on the roof. The dark gargoyle in front of me provided a dark shadow to hide beneath. I had overheard a tip from a group of bank robbers I had stopped last week. Tonight, there would be a break-in at Wayne Enterprises, and I was going to stop it.
It was right across the street. I cast out my telepathic reach toward the tall building. It was a stretch, but if I focused hard, I could do it. Of course, if I overdid it, I could be looking at a headache that lasted a few days. That had happened before, but I was always expanding my limits through training.
Because I was so focused on the building, and trying to find the group who would attempt to steal from the corporation, I didn't notice my surroundings. That made it quite easy for the Caped Crusader to sneak up on me.
Pain erupted in the back of my head. I fell to my knees, limp. Against my instincts, I let myself fall.
The roof was on an incline. I flipped myself down the hard material and flung myself off of the building. Keeping the drama, I went into a graceful swan dive, before pulling out of it at the last second and pulling myself to my feet. There was a swoosh behind me, and I knew he had landed.
"Who are you?" he growled. I nearly shivered at the deep loathing in his voice. Batman.
"No one," I whispered. He lunged for me, and I dove out of the way to avoid it. I felt his gloved hand wrap around my ankle and I fell to the ground. I swept my other leg around, causing him to fall as well. That allowed me to jump up and begin to run away.
Until I ran into the trusty sidekick.
It was like he came out of nowhere, bounding off the rooftops like a trapeze artist. I barely had enough time to roll away before he landed in the spot I had just been in. Two against one? Hardly fair.
I pulled out my eskrima sticks and twirled them to inform the duo that I knew what I was doing. Robin ran at me full force, but I knew their game. The brighter colors drew eyes away from the darker, more powerful one. When he leaped towards me, I flattened myself against the pavement, dodging him completely, before rolling into a position where I could launch myself at Batman.
The Dark Knight moved away from my first hit caught the stick in my right hand before twisting it away. I rolled with the motion, straight into a brick wall.
I felt the world spin. Colors danced in front of my eyes. They were too difficult for me to handle. Besides, what did they want to attack me for? I was helping them.
"I ask again, who are you?"
"I told you!" I spat. "No one important."
"I have to warn you," Robin stage-whispered to me, obviously pulling the 'good cop' routine, "He's especially cranky today. So just tell us what we want to know."
"I don't know who I am, okay?" I growled. The world had stopped spinning; I could fly again. But I needed to make sure they didn't follow me.
"What do you mean?"
"Forget it!" I spat, before pulling out one of the gadgets Dr. Bartley had packed away for me. It was a metal handle. To others, it would be worthless. To me, it was an easy way to build energy constructs.
I allowed my sparks to gather in my chest, and pushed them outward, down my arms. The diversion of power caused the sapphire lightning bolts cascading down the shoulders and arms of my suit to light up—a little dramatic flair. I used the handles to control the energy, and I formed two whips, one for each hand. This was natural to me.
I flicked my wrists and the whips wrapped around each of the heroes. They struggled, but I didn't allow them to think of a way to escape. I forced a concentrated bolt of electricity down the whips and gave them enough of a shock to disorientate them. It wouldn't have any long lasting effects.
"Don't follow me," I ordered, shooting straight off into the night sky.
That was the first time I dealt with official heroes. It wouldn't be my last.