Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story line. Please note that I made up Mikron's past and I don't want a note complaining about what it was in the comic line. I am staying relatively near the comics but the show is very different so I take creative license.
This is all from Gizzy's point of view, so not all things are totally accurate, since it was biased.
Warnings: If you are weak stomached, it could be construed as gruesome.
The last time Mikron had gotten a good night's sleep he was about three years old and his mother hadn't left home yet. His father hadn't gotten his job yet. The last time Mikron had gotten a good night's sleep, he was as happy as a cynical ornery three year old could be.
Things had gone roughly down-hill from there. Mikron was not an absent-minded genius. He noticed everything and he remembered everything. Looking back, he saw the signs of weakening familial bonds just as clearly. The breaking of family love had definitely begun with the job.
His father had worked for the military as a researcher of possible weapons. Mikron didn't think of himself as an army brat, but he knew that he was in a way. His father went to work each morning and came home eventually, pockets brimming with papers and with large never-ending bags under his eyes. Mikron had been fascinated.
Sometimes he stayed up with his father late into the night, on the rare occasion when his dad got to work at home. Mikron would watch, but not comment on what could be done better. He just let his father puzzle out the mistakes on his own. Mikron discovered his genius at three.
His mother was happy before the job. He knew she was. Only, after his father was eaten up by the job, she did not smile as she had before. Her eyes lost whatever happiness had once been in them. Mikron didn't notice, as intelligent as he was, he was blind to common human emotions. He got angry with her, for not being as smart as he was. He was too young to realize the frustration he vented on her came from his growing annoyance in his father's lack of genius. All he knew was that no one was intelligent enough for him and it wasn't fair.
Weren't mothers supposed to understand their children? How come she didn't understand him?
He was four.
He watched her leave from out of his bedroom window. She looked back at the house, once, up at him. He pressed his nose to the window and memorized what he could of his mother. Her dark hair was stringy and messy and her eyes were as dark with sleepless nights as his father. She held up her hand in a brief goodbye and walked down the street, away from him and his father. He watched her until she turned the corner and went to sleep after trying to convince himself that it didn't bother him.
That was the night of The Nightmare.
He was in a cage with his mother and it was pitch black everywhere. All you could see was his mother and the gray bars imprisoning them. He turned to look at her. Her face was bloody and scarred. Her eyes were made of shattered black glass. Her blonde hair was a halo atop of her head, whirling outwards and untamed. Because this was a dream, he accepted her appearance as normal.
Suddenly the door opened and he knew that he could get out of the cage. He walked out, assuming that she would follow. About fifty paces away he turned to grasp her hand, because all of a sudden he wanted his mother so desperately that he could barely breathe. His fingers grasped the air and he turned back to look for her. She was far off, still in the cage with the door tightly shut, and was clutching at the bars and screaming for him. Immediately he could hear the sound of her shattering sobs and broken glass screams. He tried to turn back, but his legs wouldn't move and his small hands couldn't reach her.
She kept on asking why he left her. Over and over until the chorus of betrayal rang in his head. Why did he leave her for his father? Why?
The blackness under her feet became liquid and she started to drown in the darkness. She grasped at the bars in order to keep herself afloat, but it pulled her in deeper. Her screams turned to gasps for air. Mikron screamed shrilly and tried to reach her again, but his feet wouldn't move. She was consumed by the black and Mikron woke up with the knowledge that he had killed his mother.
He wondered if his father noticed the note on the bed before Mikron had gotten a chance to read it. Mikron awoke at one in the morning because of his nightmare and had run into the bedroom for his mother. A note lay where she was supposed to have been. For an instant, Mikron had forgotten she had left and her absense seemed like a confirmation of his nightmare.
He took the cruel words his mother had angrily scribbled down from the bed and hid it in his room. His father didn't have to read that.
The entire night, his father was in the basement working.
Without his mother, Mikron began to realize how very alone he was. He resentmed his father for working down in the basements on inventions that lacked creativity. He didn't even make them well. It wasn't fair that he devoted his time to something he couldn't do right. His father was an idiot.
Mikron was five when he realized how much he disliked his father.
A year was swallowed up quickly. His father was in the basement, hiding from his life in the inventions that didn't work and Mikron finally went to school. He was bored and angry there. None of the kids were smart, not like him. He despised coloring and reading books about dogs named Spot. Within three months he was put into second grade, and he still wasn't challenged enough. He began to search for things that would challenge him.
His father stayed in the basement, getting tenser and tenser as his job teetered in the balance. Mikron didn't go downstairs anymore.
The nightmares continued.
When Mikron was almost seven he robbed an ATM. It wasn't all that hard to wire it up for money, but it was more challenging than school was and he got the first rush of excitement he experienced since he had loved his father enough to work with him. He liked it, it was different and it was as bad as he was.
A child who had killed his mother couldn't be anything but bad.
It was quiet and he was sitting in a courtroom, handcuffed to a table. The bonds dug into his wrists and everyone was laughing. He couldn't see anyone, but he could feel them watching him and hating him. They hated him so much it hurt.
A voice boomed down and asked him if he was guilty. The crowd that he could not see jeered and they placed him in front of a mirror to test his innocence. The mirror swirled with grey smoke before settling on the image of his mother. Her face was cracked and her wispy blonde hair was caked with blood. Her eyes were as black as they were in The Nightmare, but they were angry.
The 'why's echoed furiously in his head and made his ears bleed and he began to sob without tears and noise. However his lips twitched into a smile that he didn't mean and mocking laughter burst out of his them even as he writhed internally in guilt.
The crowd despised him so deeply, and he hated himself with their same intensity.
The mirror swirled with smoke again, but this time the picture was of him. There was nothing but blackness in the mirror and he knew that was what he really looked like. The crowd was scared of him and he wheeled back in fear, suddenly in control of his body.
Black black black black black.
He wasn't a real person anymore.
He didn't steal again until he was eight, but when he did he robbed a bank. He got away with it too. Mikron decided that the thrill was worth the nightmares that came every night no matter what he did.
His father lost his job.
Mikron hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted his father to lose his job until he had. He realized that he had always retained the hope that once the job was over everything would be okay. His mother would come back and Mikron would be so nice to her and his father would be so nice to her and everyone would love each other again. His hopes were crushed when that didn't happen.
Instead, his father spent even more time in the basement, trying to get his job back with some "brilliant" invention that Mikron knew wouldn't amount to anything.
He grew angrier.
The teachers hated him. He knew all the answers and he was rude. Part of him knew that he wasn't supposed to act this way with older people. He saw the semi-polite attitude that most of the other students held for authority figures and he knew that he should try to mimic it. But they were so stupid.
The other students hated him. He was young enough to be an outsider and smart enough to be annoying. He was rude and he hated them too. They taunted at him and stole his books and threw them. Children were always more cruel than adults could be. Whenever someone called him a child he was thrown into a rage, he was not like them. He could never be like them. Children were almost as stupid as adults.
Mikron was a genius, and he knew it.
His father didn't hate him, but that meant that he wasn't paying attention to him. Mikron never quite forgave him for that.
He immersed himself in crime and inventing.
Mikron was picked up by the Hive when he was well into nine. He had a new family there, but he was afraid to get close to them. He stayed as far away from his new friends as possible, but nonetheless found himself growing into his family. He loved a human being for the first time since he had killed his mother.
The nightmares continued anyway.
He was on a stake in the middle of a field. Everyone was gathered around and they were laughing. His father was dressed as a priest and, as usual, didn't spare a glance as he convicted his son. Through the crowd's laughter it was plain to see that they all hated him. They all hated his crimes.
He didn't raise his voice to defend himself, resigned to his fate. He deserved what they were about to do to him.
There was a pile of kindle at his feet. His father lit a match and it illuminated his face that had no features. There was nothing on his face, as always it was blank. He dropped the match into the kindling and Mikron's vision was consumed by red. He wondered how long it would take for him to die.
He went to Angel's room when he woke up and made himself wake her. He sullenly told her the nightmare, glaring at her all the while. She pulled him into a hug and he stayed with her the whole night. The next nightmare, he woke up Jinx because he was too embarrassed to bother Angel again. He alternated between the two.
The nightmares continued, but now he had people to go to, somehow they didn't seem as bad.