Untitled
A/N: So this is my newest drabble. It's a Cyborg piece, mainly because I feel that my boy doesn't get enough attention (even from me). It's a little angsty and I may have embellished certain pieces of his past, but please just bare with me. Oh and it's untitled because nothing I thought of fit. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: The Teen Titans belong to Dc Comics. I'm just borrowing them for today.
He was doing it again. Playing with that damn holo-ring that he'd made for when he had to infiltrate the Hive. Sliding it on and off his fingers, staring in the mirror, watching as he changed. Brown one moment. Silver the next.
He knew he should stop. Knew that it had to make him some sort of masochist, the way he kept torturing himself with the images. Knew that this pastime, this hobby, this obsession of his was not good for him. But he couldn't resist. He couldn't stop. On. Off. Brown. Steel.
He can remember when he started doing this, remembers when the obsession began. Remembers when he started teasing and taunting himself with what could've been. It had begun innocently enough. A joke he and Garfield dreamed up one night when they'd eaten too many sweets and were plotting ways to cause trouble. It was supposed to be simple. Put on the rings and see if your team members can pick you out of a crowd on the street.
They hadn't. Recognized him, that is. In fact no one in that crowd had recognized him. And it had felt so good. Felt so nice to for once not have people stare and point at him. For once he was normal again. And he liked it.
He liked the anonymous feeling the ring lent him. To people on the street he was no more than another African-American man. Another teenager. Another face in crowd, another fish in the sea. He was not some cybernetic man. He wasn't some big shot teenage hero. He wasn't some Frankenstein monster, the creation of a horrible accident that ruined it all. He was no one.
Then again that wasn't altogether true. With the ring on he was someone. Someone he thought was gone forever; someone whose life seemed like a distant dream. With that ring on he was the boy who he'd lost that day of the accident. He was the boy who dreamed of the Olympics. The boy who had both the brains and the brawn. He was the All-American boy living his life to the fullest. He was Victor Stone again. Even if only for a moment.
He'd been doing this to himself since that day. Mocking himself with what could be, if only he was willing to reach out and grab it. He could leave the ring on. He could leave everything behind. He could be that boy again. He could do it. He could. But then he'd remember his life here. Remember his team, his friends. He'd remember her. And the ring would come back off again.
On. Off. Brown. Silver. Victor. Cyborg.
A/N: So what did you think? I guess one could speculate that Cyborg is going through a bit of a crisis here. Who knows maybe I'll write another piece, with him actually making a choice. If you liked it please let me. If it sucked well…let me know that too. And if you have a title I could use I'd be eternally grateful. Thanks for reading.