I do not own Young Justice or any of the characters.
Unknown
Lights. Sirens. Pain. An all-consuming agony radiating from head to spine to body in an unbearable flood. Every cell burning. Every scream sending blood flying past red-stained teeth. Every gasp of breath feeling like liquid fire.
This was his existence. He didn't know how long. He couldn't remember. He just knew it was. The pain was infinite, and indescribable. Unending. Whatever he had been before, the pain wiped away. All he was, all he knew, was agony. Pain. Suffering. He wanted it to end. Somehow. Some way. He wanted it to end. And yet, it dragged on.
He tried to judge by the beating of his heart, but he lost track, and he lost time. He couldn't remember when he had started. He couldn't remember how many there had been. Too many.
But he should know. He should. But know what? What was he trying to remember? What was he doing? All he could remember was the pain. All he knew was pain. All he was. His very existence was consumed by pain. An all-consuming agony radiating from head to spine to body in an unbearable flood. Every cell burning. Every scream sending blood flying past red-stained teeth. Every gasp of breath feeling like liquid fire.
He wanted it to stop. Needed it to stop. And suddenly, it did. He was floating, he thought, in a void. An endless abyss of darkness and numbness. Nothingness. Who was he? He couldn't remember. The pain had wiped it away. All he could remember was the pain. But now there was nothing. Just the darkness, and the void.
This isn't so bad. I can accept being nothing.
He began to allow himself to drift, pulled by the darkness, and the comforting bliss of nothingness. But he couldn't go. There was something he still had to do. But what was it? What was he doing? Who was he again? Why was he here?
There was something. A light. Something in the darkness. Something that was drawing him away from the abyss. Away from the nothingness. He reached out for it. It was close. He could almost reach it. But then, the pain was back.
He shrank away. The light began to dim. He didn't want to feel the pain. He couldn't. Not again. He didn't want to lose himself again. But then...he could hear something. Beyond the pain. A voice, maybe? Yes. A voice. Someone was calling out to him. He just had to get through the pain.
But could he? Was there even anything beyond the pain? Or was the pain all there was outside the abyss? What if the voice was in the pain too? What if he couldn't go back to the abyss? Or what if the voice was beyond the pain, but he lost himself on the way?
The voice reached him again. It sounded different. He couldn't place how. And he wanted to. He wanted to know what was different. What the voice was saying. Who was calling out to him? Did he know them? Did they know him? Could they tell him who he was?
He stared at the light. He had to choose. So he did. He reached for the light. At the first flash of pain, he hesitated. But the voice called to him. So he reached further. He followed the voice into the pain. And then the voice was gone. Drowned out by his own voice, screaming. By every cell burning. Every breath feeling like liquid fire.
But then it was there again, softening the pain slowly, one cell at a time. Drawing him through it, out of the pain. It didn't end, but he became aware of other things. Flashing lights. Sirens screaming. Screams of agony. Not his own, though. They were higher. More shrill. More desperate. He lowered his head from the flashing lights and stared straight ahead.
A girl. A girl chained to the wall across from him. She was screaming, and crying. And there was blood running down her arms from cuts. Down her face from a cut on her forehead. Down her legs. Her legs were marred as bbadly as her arms, but not all of the blood was from the cuts. Part was from the man penetrating her. The man slapped her, laughed, then did it again. And again.
And the girl screamed. She called out. Begged for help. Begged the man to stop. But the man didn't. The man simply laughed again.
Pain flooded his senses again, robbing him of his sight. But it was different now. Muted. He tried to move his arm, and it complied. He punched the sheet of glass in front of himself. The glass exploded outward. And then the pain was gone. He reached out, grabbing the man by the back of the head and pulled, the man following easily. Then, he knelt and drove the man's head into the floor. Except, the floor cracked, and the man's head was suddenly shaped oddly.
And so was his hand. He stared at it. There was a black...thing around it, in the shape of a hand. It had sharp points on the ends of its fingers, and was about double the size of his normal left hand. Or...maybe it was normal? He didn't think so. And after a moment, the black thing began to shrink, seeping into his hand and leaving it like the other.
He stared at it. Then, he stood, walking over to the girl. She was crying still, so he reached up to the metal rings holding her arms to the wall. He pulled on them, but nothing happened. Maybe the black thing could help. It had to have some kind of purpose.
And suddenly it was there. Growing out of his hand, looking like black slime. He pulled again and the metal ring shattered. So did the others. He caught the girl as she fell, gently setting her down as the black goo around his hand sank into him again.
"Thank you!" she sobbed. "Thank you!"
"Who...are...you?" he asked, voice hoarse and broken from the pain.
"You...You don't...remember me?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Who...who...am...I?"
"We can't talk here," she said, standing, wiping her eyes. "We need to get out. Then we can talk."
He nodded. Out sounded good. Out meant away from the pain. He hoped.
The girl took his hand and turned, guiding him toward the door as quickly as she could. She was wounded, but they were making progress. Slow progress, but progress. They were in a tunnel. The walls were rough, like a cave, but there were so many of them. Too many. He didn't know where they were going.
Finally, they entered a large room with a shuttered door off to the side just as the door rose, several men with large guns running in and opening fire at them. His arms snapped up and a wall of black goo blocked the bullets. The girl grabbed a rock off of the ground and hurled it, the rock suddenly glowing. Then, as it hit in the midsts of the men, it exploded, hurling them all.
After a moment of no one shooting, the girl took his hand again, beginning to run toward another tunnel. Then, they were following them again. After a few minutes, they reached another large room with far more armed men.
The girl began to run at them instantly, grabbing rocks as she ran and hurling them. He followed after her, concentrating and forming goo over both arms. One of the men turned to attack him but he drilled a punch into the man's chest and sent him flying. Another drew a knife and leapt at the girl, but found himself flying through the air after one of the goo arms extended to punch him from a distance. Another five were waiting between a pair of tanks to ambush their targets before a punch from a goo arm slammed the tanks together in a spray of blood and bits of metal. Then, they were out. They ran down a hill outside the cave for several minutes before reaching the beach where a small boat was waiting. The girl guided him into it before climbing in as well, pushing off of shore and starting the motor speeding away from the island.
"Can we talk now?" he asked, noticing his throat had healed. "Who am I? How do you know me?"
"We grew up together," she said. "Your name is-"
Blood splattered across his face as hers exploded. He looked down as his chest, where black goo had stopped a bullet from hitting him in the heart. He looked back at the island over the girl's body, and suddenly, the island didn't seem as far. He felt dizzy, but before he could close his eyes, he made out a white mask with one red eye over a red body suit.
Then, he closed his eyes, his nausea passing slowly. When he opened his eyes, the island looked as distant as it had at first, and there were no new bullets in the boat. He stared at the girl. Who was she?
He moved her body to the front of the boat and began to steer, leaving the island behind without really knowing where he was going.
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