Metahumans. Humans with the meta gene.

meta key

[ˈmɛtə kiː]

NOUN

computing

a key on some keyboards which activates a particular function when held down simultaneously with another key.

The word meta was adopted by scientists for the gene in some people that activates particular "powers" when the person goes through a particular event.


In the flat, Beast Boy and Robin stood scratching their heads (figuratively). It didn't make any sense. How could someone get in and out of a room without ever leaving or entering. As they thought, a familiar red suit came darting into the room.

"Hay,whyareyounaked?" The Flash asked Beast Boy.

Robin was used to Beast Boys powers, and their consequences, so hadn't mentioned it. The changeling took a corner of his cape and held it in front of the offending body parts.

Robin scowled. "Really?" He asked.

Beast Boy just shrugged and grinned. "I don't suppose you feel like getting my-" He began.

"Alreadydone."

A red and white jacket; Doom Patrol top, blue jeans; and a pairs of purple converse were suddenly in his arms.

"Thanks." He added, pulling the green boxers out his trousers and putting them on first.

"So, who do you think did this? Dead Shot?" Questioned the Flash. He had slowed down and was now talking at a more reasonable speed.

"No way, I am neither dead, nor shot." Beast Boy pitched in, pulling his pants up. He had turn his back to them and they now had a clear view of some of his old scars. It isn't uncommon for heroes to have injuries. Up his left arm were shiny patches of lighter coloured skin that dimpled in and out. No hair grew on them, such is the way with damaged skin. Some fainter lines could be seen across his back, and at the top of his back, peaking out from under some hair, were some bits of a black mark. A tattoo?

"What about that Death Stroke guy?"

"Same predicament, I'm not terminated." He pulled his jacket on and faced his fellow supers. "I think this is a job for the detectives and the police. Just don't touch anything and wait for them to show up... not that there's anything in here TO touch."

'Detectives?' thought Robin 'I'm a detective. Those guys the police hire haven't learnt the way I have.'

"I'll stay here and wait. You two go back to the parade and make sure nothing else happens. We can't expect those posers to do anything if the shooter comes back." Robin told them, raiding his utility belt for his equipment. Even a seemingly empty room has secrets to give.

"Oh, sure... Will I see you later?" Beast Boy asked.

"... I don't know." Robin replied, honestly.

The Flash was already gone. Beast Boy stepped into the hallway and got a few steps before noticing something and turning back to the room.

"Robin! The smell. The hall doesn't have the same smell!"

"What does THAT mean?"

"There's always this consistency with smells. Like, you would expect some of the smells in the hall to be taken in this room, under the door or by people, but this room smells like an entirely different place." He jabbered, parts of his strange mix of accents coming thought in the enthusiasm, muddling the sentences. "This room is not part of this building."

"That makes no sense."

"I know! But that is what I smell! And my nose is not telling lies!" He grabbed onto his friends hand and dragged him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

A brass 2 35 was drilled into the door.

"What the heck, Gar?"

"LOOK!" He persisted, pointing at the number.

"... but, this is the 5th floor." Robin remarked, looking at the number on the door behind them. 5 18. "Why does this room..."

They looked the door again. 5 19... 5 19? Robin grabbed the handle and tried to force the door open, but it wouldn't budge. Then he pulled out a lock pic from his belt and got to work. The door opened.

Inside was a fully furbished flat with a blue carpet, tan leather sofa and ply wood furniture. It wasn't empty any more.

"Um. There was an empty room here... right? I'm not going crazier then I already am?"

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Shouted Robin, closing the door and opening it again a few times.

Beast Boy put an empathetic hand on his shoulder. "I don't think it's coming back, dude."


Setting: An interview stage with two, red tub chairs facing each other on a wooden floor. The audience is obscured by the spot lights.

In one chair sits Garfield Dayton in a red double breasted shirt. In the other sits David Schwimmer in a black jumper (sweater).

David: You must do some interesting things as hero.

Gar: you can say that about anyone, really. You must have an interesting life as an actor.

David: Aha- I see what you did there. But as a hero, you must get hurt a lot.

Gar: Well, yeah. It's part of the gig. I'm lucky enough to have cool super powers that let me heal myself.

David: That IS lucky! Is that the meta gene again?

Gar: Kinda. More like my animal powers, though. Like an axolotl.

David: A what's a lot ?

Gar: Ax-o-lot-al. A type of salamander that can heal itself, re-grow limbs, that kind of thing.

David: Re-grow limbs?! So if you lost your leg you could grow it back?!"

Gar: Pretty much. The scientists are really into me-

David: awwwwhaha

Gar: Not like that, more like- they want to dissect me...

David: And things just went weird. What about that Robin guy? What can you tell me about him?

Gar: Um, he's kinda cool. I mean. He puts up with me. I get this feeling that he thinks he's really smart, though.

David: And you're not?

Gar: I have my moments.