The boy opened his eyes with a whole body jerk. He looked around, terrified at what he saw, before the sedatives kicked in and he sank back onto the metal slab. Around him, bottles, syringes and test tubes reflected the light of an over-head operating lamp. The boy still fought, but it was with much less energy then before, and he eventually gave up completely, resorting to glaring at the figure in front of him. The figure stepped forwards, into the bright light of the lamp, and sat himself down in a chair opposite the operating table. "Hello," he said, in an accent hard to identify. "My name is doctor Richard Strumm. do you remember yours?"
No awnser from the boy, who continued glaring at Strumm with hatred in his eyes. Strumm sighed, and tried aproaching the subject from a different angle. "I know you must be feeling scared, but the only way..." He stopped abruptly, as a strange sound came from the boy. For a moment Strumm thought he was chocking, but after a moment he realised that the boy was laughing. It wasn't like any human laugh the doctor had heard; it was grating and metallic, mocking and cruel, not humerus at all. The boy eventually stopped laughing, and spoke for the first time. "So. You reckon that I'm feeling scared, huh?" When no awnser came from Strumm, the boy continued. "Sure I've woken up on a big operating table. I'm surrounded by what looks like internal organs in jars. There's a large rack of needles, a pile of thread, and for some reason, a pile of dewlap sacks. But I'm not scared. Oh no."
Strumm looked surprised at this. He hadn't expected the boy to be talking so soon after the operation, and even if he did, he would never of expected well formed scentences. Clearing his throat, he made to summon his assistant to sedate the boy once more. The words died in his mouth as his neck broke clean in two. The boy released his hold on the dead man's neck, and ripped the rest of his body free from thee metal bindings. For a moment he stood there, marveling at his incredible power and the ease with which he snapped the man's neck. But he had no time to think any more as Strumm's assistant came into the room, saw her dead employer and started screaming. The boy backed into the wall, and the suddenly the wall wasn't there any more and he fell out of the building, bricks and mortar falling with him.
By the time the police arrived, the boy was long gone. But he stayed a little while to watch the scene unfold. He made an odd sight, a sixteen year old boy dressed in torn and tattered clothes, covered in stitches and patches of dewlap. Looking down at himself, the boy seemed to think for a moment, then nodded in self confirmation. "Ragdoll. Thats my new name. Ragdoll" Smiling to himself, Ragdoll walked away from the police, towards the city centre. He put his hands in his tattered jeans pockets and started to whistle a jaunty tune, a cross between the sailors hornpipe and spring from the four seasons. People stared at him as he walked, but he ignored them, and just kept walking. Eventually he found an old abandoned motel that had been closed for plumbing reasons and had never reopened. Settling himself down on one of the beds, Ragdoll looked down at his chest and smiled. It was covered in stitches, patches, and was incredibly muscular. A small frown crossed his face as he noticed that so far, he hadn't cared, or noticed, where he was. Sitting up, he started to think. He'd woken up on an operating table but what had happned before that. What had that doctor done to him? Ragdoll thought hard, but there was nothing. He had no memories.
With a cry, he leapt off the bed and started to run around the room, looking for anything that might jog his memory. Nothing. A newspaper caught his eye, and he practically ran over to it, knocking over chairs and scattering insects. Grasping the paper, he squinted at the title; "Joker detonates bomb, teen killed.". Hmm, yes very sad, but that doesn't awnser his - Wait a moment, he was a teenager, was that him? Ragdoll looked all over the main photo, but all he could see was the wreckage of the bomb detonation, no bodies anywhere. Either he was obscured by rubble or that doctor was a very fast worker. Damn it.
Ragdoll lay down on the bed again, only this time with a forlorn expression instead of a smile. No memories, super strength, incredible damage resistance, and just to top it off he might be insane. Ragdoll sighed. Then got up again and alked over to the newspaper. Ignoring the depressing main picture and headline, he scanned down the page and came to what he was looking for. "Joker still looking for hired help". Ragdoll grinned again. This could be good, or at least something to do. Taking the news paper with him to the bed, he laid down again, opened the newspaper, and read until he fell asleep.
Okay, just a couple of notices.
This Ragdoll is not like the other ones. For a start, he isn't a contortionist, just a biologicly altered human. Sorry is I got your hopes up.
Yes, Ragdoll is dead. He'll find out later.
The Elseworld that Ragdoll lives in is a much younger version of BTAS. Harley, Ivy, Ragdoll and Joker are all teenagers, Batman's probably in his twenties, and thats all I have done for now.
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