Mouse Hairs
Gramps...
That's what he'd been called by that upstart poser, Glen Furlblam.
The guy wasn't so much younger than him in reality. His white hair was merely a side effect of his fusion with Squeaky, not a sign of aging.
Still... he had to admit that he'd slowed down more than expected over the past few years. More than what was natural in fact.
He'd realized this some time ago, but had done his best to convince himself it was nothing. Over the past few days however, he'd been running some test. The results of which had regrettably confirmed his suspicions. His body was aging faster than that of a normal human.
It was to be expected, he supposed.
Despite remaining mostly human in appearance, he'd been fused at both the genetic as well as the molecular level with a rodent, a creature with a rather short life span.
He couldn't say for sure how much time he had left. But based on his current rate of progression, he could estimate anywhere from 10 to 12 years. Possibly less. Not that any of that really mattered unless there was something he could do to change those numbers. But what?
Removing the mouse brain wouldn't help.
Assuming he survived it, his Two-Brains persona would likely be eliminated. Or, at the very least, severely compromised. But that would do nothing in the way of reversing the genetic changes which were causing his accelerated aging.
The only possible solution would be to separate the man from the mouse in the same way they had been joined, at the molecular level.
Accomplishing something like that would take quite a bit of doing, but the true dilemma came in the fact that he'd essentially be killing himself to save himself. A notion unpleasantly reminiscent of a scene from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Hyde had desperately attempted to return to the form of Dr. Jekyll. A sort of temporary suicide to avoid a fate which would likely lead to his death and or ruin. He had failed. And in the end, had chosen to die by his own hand.
That wasn't quite the situation here, but the parallels were apparent.
Remaining Dr. Two Brains would ultimately lead to an early death. But living as Steven Boxleitner meant the death of Dr. Two Brains, a concept which his second brain didn't like one bit. After all, 10 to 12 years was considerably longer than the life span of the average mouse. And Squeaky was a selfish little rodent, who would gladly sacrifice the life of Boxleitner to extend his own.
Two Brains, however, was neither Squeaky nor Boxleitner, simply the middle ground between the two.
He couldn't truly exist without both halves of himself. And yet, he found himself forced to choose in favor of one over the other, his survival instinct pulling him in both directions.
To live was to die and to die was to live.
There was no compromise, no balance to the equation. His life was forfeit regardless of what he did or didn't do. It was perhaps the most confounding problem he'd encountered all his life. A problem with seemingly no answer.
He sighed as he paused in his pacing, allowing himself to flop onto the couch at the center of his lair. His eye happened to catch his reflection in the TV as he sat there, his expression remaining impassive.
He found himself taking stock of his appearance, his surroundings, his life...
He sighed once again, then stood, his decision made.
Being TwoBrains had been fun at times. Even liberating. But what had he truly gained?
Jail time? A criminal record? A shortened life span? An insatiable craving for cheese?
What was the value in that? And just how much did his second brain truly contribute to his personality?
Beyond the evil, the fear of cats, the cheese obsession, it was all rather two dimensional in reality. Literally everything else had come from Boxleitner.
TwoBrains, in reality, was nothing more than a tainted Boxleitner. So by shedding his TwoBrains persona, he wouldn't truly be killing himself, but freeing himself.
It was with this thought that he made his way to the phone and began dialing the number of his former lab.
Though it wasn't beyond him to do all this alone, the resources of a legitimate laboratory and the assistance of a former colleague would infinitely accelerate the process. Professor Tubing had once offered to attempt removing the mouse brain from his head, so perhaps he would instead aid him in this. If not, he would simply act alone. Though he doubted it would come to that.
They were more associates than actual friends, but he knew for a fact that the technology which caused his transformation had been placed in storage by Tubing, after being studied. The professor would participate out of scientific curiosity if nothing else. Wordgirl would no doubt support the project as well. Though both would likely be cautious of him to start with.
As for his henchmen, he wasn't certain just how they would take it. But, if possible, he planned to keep them around even after all this was over. They were his friends, he admitted to himself. And both had demonstrated they were perfectly willing to work legitimate jobs. So working for Boxleitner as gofers rather than henchmen wouldn't be much of a stretch. Which reminded him, he would need to cancel his membership in the villains association in the near future.
"But first..." He thought to himself as he canceled the phone call.
He would teach that Glen Furlblam a lesson the likes of which he would never forget. A little time locked in a room swarming with live rodents would just about do it. A fitting exchange for using cats to trap him within his own lair and stealing his lab coat.
Yes, he would make that insolent little parasite suffer for exactly as long as he had suffered the same indignity.
Then, he would retire from villainy.
End
(A.N) I'm not sure what to say here but... review, okay?
Disclaimer: I don't own Wordgirl. I don't pretend to own Wordgirl. And I'm not making any money off this story.