Author's Note: Hello, ladies and gentlemen!

It's now time for the introduction of our dear friend, Cyborg. A somber look at how he reacts to his newly acquired cybernetic implants. The first half of this chapter, between Victor and his father, is in Victor's vision, at least until he finally sees himself in the mirror. Just wanted to let you guys know :)

I hope you all enjoy it!

Your friend, Cody.


Just hold on, son.

He's in pretty bad shape.

Someone get me the morphine!

It's the only we can save him.

Okay... let's get started.

ONLINE...

CHARGING.

Darkness turned into light, in the form of fluorescent lights shining from the ceiling.

"Victor!"

The young man turned his head. His father ran to his side, his face filled with a mix of shock and awe.

Victor groaned, "...Dad?" his voice was weak.

"Yes, son. It's me."

"What happened? The last thing I remember, there was... and explosion. Some sort of monster. And Mom was... Mom! Where is she?! Is she okay?"

Silas was silent, his face fell.

"Dad... what happened?" Victor insisted.

...

"She's gone, son. The monster... it killed her. I'm sorry."

This time it was Victor who went silent. He tried to find the words, but they would not form. He began to shake his head violently, a mix of emotions swirling inside of him. Anger at the monster, for killing his mother. Sadness at the realization that she was gone. And guilt, for not being able to save her in time.

"No... No! No! NO!" he threw his hands over his face.

That was when he felt it. The cold of steel on flesh. He removed his hands...and saw that they weren't his hands. They were... metal. White and silver.

"What...? What's...?" he was, again, speechless. Why were his hands this?

"When the monster attacked you," Silas spoke, "You were gravely injured. I found you underneath a pile of rubble, your body was..." he trailed off, sighed, then continued, "We had to find a way to save you. And we did."

Silas pointed in front of Victor, and his son followed the gesture. A light was switched on, and a full-length mirror appeared. And it was then... he saw himself, only it wasn't. His once dark, human skin was now sleeked with metal, a mixture of silver, white and black. His arms, shoulders and thighs shined with blue circuitry. The left half of his face was completely taken away, and replaced with metal, even his eye. Nothing of his old self remained, but the remainder of his face, and a small portion of arms.

He couldn't believe it... how could his own father do this to him?! Wasn't losing his Mom enough?!

"Victor..." he looked at his father, immediately interrupting him.

"How? How could you do this to me, Dad? HOW?!"

Silas wasn't taken back, but still wanted to explain himself.

"Victor, I... I just wanted to..."

At that moment, Victor powered out of the restraint that held him down across his chest. He now stood on his new legs. His eyes locked on his fathers, anger blazing inside them. He instantly reached out, and grabbed his fathers throat. Silas began choking.

"Victor... please! I just tried to help you!"

"HELP ME?!" Victor screamed, hoisting his father in the air, his hand tightening around his neck like a noose. "You neglected me for years! You let that monster take away Mom! And now, you've taken away my humanity!"

"Victor...!"

It would be easy. All he would need to do was crush his neck, and he would be gone! No more doubts! No more neglect! Nothing left but a monster!

...

A monster.

That's what he was.

And now he's about to kill his creator. A monster killing a monster... no. He wouldn't do it. No matter how much he wanted to, Victor just couldn't do it. His grip loosened, and Silas fell to the floor, coughing up a storm to get the air back into his lungs. Victor just stared at him, his cold eyes, staring directly into his father's frightened ones.

"Victor, please..." Silas begged through coughs, "It was... the only way... to save you. We had to save you!" he coughed hard once more. "I had already lost your mother. I wasn't going to lose you." Silas presented his hand for Victor to take it. "Please, son." he begged.

Victor remained silent, and still. He looked down at his father's hand. His own father, pleading for his life. He never thought he'd see the day. His father was always a confident man. But now... he was a monster.

Just like him.

And now, he was walking away, leaving his father behind while he begged and pleaded for his son's return.


Victor had never felt so lonely.

When he was an athlete, when he was human, and he would walk down the street, people would scream his name in admiration, run to him for his autograph, or just to say 'hi.'

But now, they screamed at him in fear, ran away from him, and shouted at him to go away. They called him a freak, told him to visit a junkyard, one even had the gall to throw a rock at him! It hit him right in whatever part of his face was still human. He knew that would leave a mark. He hated it. He never asked for this. He never asked to become a monster, why couldn't they see that? It didn't matter, anyway. As far as he was concerned, he was no more a monster than that thug over there trying to mug that lady...

"Yo!"

Both the mugger, and the lady, looked at him. Their eyes widened, and their mouths gaped.

"Let her go!" he warned.

The thug had a gun in his hand. He looked like a regular thief, dark pants, gray hoodie. Victor could see he was visibly shaking. Who could blame him? He probably had never seen anything like him before. The thug, in his fear, pointed the gun at Victor.

"Stay back! I'll shoot!"

Victor had no idea what this armor could do, and whether or not it could shrug off bullets was something he never found out. Still, he decided to play it safe, and try to calm the thief down by talking.

"Easy, now. I'm not gonna hurt you." he said, putting his hands in the air for reassurance. "I just want to talk."

"Talk? Oh, you wanna talk!? Well, let's see you talk now, freak!"

The trigger was pulled, the gun was fired, the woman, screamed, and Victor felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing. He could see the shock on the thugs face, and looked at his body to wherever the bullet flew. Once he looked down, he saw it. Lying on the ground, the tip dented like it just hit a metal wall. Which is exactly what happened. Victor looked at his chest, and saw that the bullet didn't even make a dent. He looked back towards the thug, and immediately walked towards him.

"Stay back!" the thug shouted. He fired bullet after bullet.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

But all they seemed to do was bounce off the metallic teen like they were rice. Victor now stood in front of the thug. He grabbed his wrist, took the gun away, and crushed it in his hand like paper. The thug, out of absolute desperation or fear, he didn't know, then tried to actually punch Victor square in the face. However, Victor caught it with ease, and stared directly into his eyes. And with one punch to the stomach, the thug went down like a sack of potatoes.

Victor had no idea what to expect when he would come in contact with him, but now that it happened, he felt... conflicted. He was glad to have stopped the mugging, but just like the many people he passed before, the thug called him, and treated him, like a freak.

He looked at the lady, who was still reeling from the events that just occurred.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you okay?"

"Stay back!" she shouted, backing away. "Don't come any closer!"

Victor could only watch her run away. He should have guessed she'd react that way. And he knew he wasn't getting home looking this way. And he knew his father would be waiting for him there. What could he do? He turned his attention back to the thug on the ground. Now that he looked at him, he realized the thug's clothes were a little too big on him. Maybe that could help him.

In just a few moments, a half-naked man in his red boxer shorts sat against the wall of an alley. And Victor now stood in disguise, completely covered from head-to-toe with the gray hoodie and dark jeans. He was surprised the jeans actually fit his legs, given how big they were. He even had on a new pair of gloves, the same dark color as his jeans. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, and made his way down the sidewalk.

Where he was going, he had no idea.