I slid to a halt outside Wayne Manor, easing off progressively to avoid giving Helena a whiplash. Gates were shut tight, cameras everywhere. Not a chance in hell was I setting off the alarms.
A glance down showed Helena still out cold, head lolling lifelessly against my chest. Fence it was. Taking a deep breath, I crouched lower, picturing the landing. How much was too much for Helena to handle? A high jump felt risky, so I opted for a running leap, aiming for the top of the fence. With a silent prayer, I propelled myself over. Time seemed to slow as I hung in mid-air. My head spun with a million calculations. Legs. Key was the legs. I willed them to absorb the impact, knees bending slow and deep. Just enough to cushion the blow for Helena. My feet met the ground with a soft thump. "Whoa." The word tumbled out in a surprised gasp. I'd never get used to this. This wasn't normal.
Touchdown wasn't perfect - A faint furrow appeared on Helena's brow. Maybe a tad rougher than planned, but at least nothing was broken.
Next to the alleyway by the mansion, sat the quaint, charming cottage that served as Alfred's residence. A warm glow spilled from the windows, casting a comforting light in the darkness. Thank god someone was home. A quick scan confirmed the good butler was inside and thankfully, alone.
Securing Helena carefully in one arm, I approached the window of Alfred's room. I gave it a gentle knock, my heart drumming with anticipation. Muffled sounds of movement resonated from inside. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing Alfred's surprised face.
"What on earth have you done?" he exclaimed in that posh accent of his.
I held Helena closer, meeting his gaze. "Hey, I didn't do anything," I replied. "She's been drugged." I was well aware that Alfred had his doubts about me. Figures his suspicious mind would jump to the wrong conclusion.
Alfred's eyes quickly shifted between me and the unconscious Helena, then he gestured for me to enter. The scent of pipe tobacco and old books greeted me as I stepped over the threshold.
Alfred followed me in and closed the door softly. His full attention turned to Helena, his years of experience caring for Bruce Wayne evident in the practiced way he assessed her condition.
"Think I should take her to the cave infirmary?" I offered, remembering the medical bay Bruce kept hidden down there.
"That won't be necessary," Alfred replied. "We have a perfectly adequate facility here."
Relieved, I followed him down a short hallway to a hidden door. Inside, a surprisingly well-equipped medical room greeted us. Gently, I laid Helena on the medical bed. Her pale face seemed even paler under the harsh light.
The efficient way Alfred took over was both calming and a little intimidating. He sprang into action, hooking Helena up to an oxygen mask and checking her vitals. I leaned back against the wall, a knot of worry tightening in my gut, and watched him work.
"Any idea what substance she ingested?" Alfred asked as he checked her pulse.
"Not exactly," I admitted, rubbing my face in frustration. "But it was strong. Knocked her out cold."
"And how did this transpire, exactly?" he inquired coldly.
"Some jerk from Gotham A., Tyler," I spat, anger flaring at the memory. "He spiked her drink. Got there just in the nick of time. I... I couldn't let him get away with it."
Alfred paused for a moment. "Did you...?"
I knew what he was asking. Did I get my hands dirty? Did I give Tyler the justice he deserved?
"Did what I had to do to get her out of there safe," I replied. He's still intact, if that's what's worrying you. But trust me, he won't be bothering anyone for a while."
Returning to the dump I called home, I felt like it went ten rounds with a wrecking ball, adrenaline finally fading. Jake, useless as ever, sat alone on the couch, a mostly empty beer bottle dangling from his limp hand.
Ignoring him, I shuffled to the kitchen. The image of Helena's terrified face wouldn't leave my mind. Alfred had assured me she'd be okay—her vitals had stabilized, but seeing her like that... I almost lost it.
I threw together a humble sandwich, mayo and cheese, a culinary masterpiece by my standards. Taking a bite, I typed out a quick message: "Call me when you wake up."
Mid-chew, I heard Jake's lumbering steps on the floorboards. His bloodshot eyes locked onto my precious sandwich. "Fix me one of those, would ya?" he slurred, pointing his greasy finger toward my creation.
I fought down a sigh. He knew damn well it wouldn't kill him to grab a slice of bread himself. But refusing would only set him off, the last thing I needed today. I gathered the ingredients, slapping them together with practiced indifference, swiftly assembling a replica. I shoved the plate within his reach like a peace offering, hoping it would shut him up long enough for me to shovel down my own food and get the hell out.
I inhaled the rest of my sandwich in three hurried bites. I couldn't flee fast enough, my movements fluid and efficient. I washed my dish in a blur, impatience radiating from my every pore.
"Quit flitting 'round like some damn sideshow freak," Jake grumbled, bits of food flying from his mouth. My eyes flickered with annoyance, but I held my tongue. Don't react.
Undeterred by my lack of response, he pressed on. "You really think you're something, don't ya?" he sneered. "Worthless... huck, burden," he hiccuped.
God, he just didn't know when to quit. The thrill of pushing someone who could crush him with a flick of his wrist clearly fueling his pathetic attempts at dominance. He was an adrenaline junkie, addicted to the dangerous rush. But I was done feeding his fix.
"Lucky for me, I don't need your seal of approval." I shot back, with a nonchalant shrug.
A vein bulged on his forehead. Finally, a reaction. But not the one he wanted.
"Nothin' but a waste of money," he muttered under his breath. "Ain't nobody gonna give two shits when you're gone."
A chuckle escaped my lips. "Yeah, well, feeling's mutual," I said. "And newsflash, my scholarship does a fine job of keeping this dump from falling apart."
His face turned a shade of purple, his fists clenching and unclenching above the table. He wanted a fight. But tonight, I wasn't playing his game.
"Enjoy your sandwich," I tossed over my shoulder before I stormed off to my room, leaving him seething in the kitchen.
Agony. White-hot, searing agony ripped through me. My eyes flew open, but the room was a pitch-black. Every inch of me screamed. My mind swam, trying to figure out what the heck was happening. Then I saw him. Jake. A sickly green glow pulsed from his hand, casting weird shadows on the walls. That explained why I felt like all my strength had been sucked out from my very soul.
When Jake's fingers brushed against my skin, the touch of the stone sent spikes of pain shooting through my veins. I whimpered as he forcefully yanked me out of bed, my muscles protesting against the sudden movement.
"Hey!" I croaked, voice weak, as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I fought against his hold, but my wriggles were futile against his grip. He must have left the rock real close, juicing me all night before this whole thing. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he dragged my heavy frame across the room, the rough floor scraping against my bare skin.
We stumbled down the stairs, my body crashing against each step like a ragdoll. My head banged against the wall, the plaster cracking with a sickening crunch. Stars exploded in my vision, and the world started tilting precariously on its axis.
Jake wasted no time. He secured that cursed stone to my back, wrapping it with layer upon layer of gray tape. The damn thing felt like a boulder digging into my spine, making it even harder to breathe. Not content with that, my mouth, wrists and ankles received the same cruel treatment.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Jake wiped the sweat from his brow and took a moment to catch his breath. With a final grunt, he shoved me into the back of his beat-up construction van. The air inside was reeked, a blend of stale sweat and rotting fast food that made me want to gag. The interior was a mess of scattered tools just waiting to impale me. And now, it was my prison.
The engine roared to life and the van lurched forward, throwing me against the wall with a sickening thud. The rickety van rattled along the uneven road, each bump jolting me with a fresh wave of agony. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, a low moan escaping my lips.
Where the bloody hell was this lunatic taking me? Was he planning to dump me in the murky depths of Gotham Harbor, like some kind of mobster?
Panic coiled around my chest, but I shoved it down. I had to get out of here. I pushed with all my might, muscles straining against the restraints that bound me, but my strength had all but abandoned me. I was as helpless as a newborn. Squinting through blurry eyes, I tried to focus my heat vision, aiming it at the tape that bound my wrists. But not even the faintest flicker of flame graced my eyes. Those stupid beams, always showing up uninvited, proved to be as helpful as a wet matchstick for once I actually needed them.
The ache in my back grew more unbearable by the minute, threatening to melt my insides. Consciousness started to slip away, the world blurring into a hazy nightmare. Through the fog, I heard Jake's voice, dripping with scorn and mockery. Something about not knowing living with a freak would one day pay off handsomely.
And with that thought lingering, darkness consumed me.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body being moved and shifted yet again. The world spun in a dizzying blur. Sounds came and went, distant echoes teasing my numb senses. But amidst the haze, I could just barely make out a familiar voice – the same baritone from Jake's cryptic phone call a few days ago.
I fought to focus, straining to catch snippets of the conversation. Another voice joined in, unmistakably Jake's. "Keep that damn rock within arm's reach of the boy, as if your life depends on it... because it just might."
My eyelids fluttered open a sliver, revealing Jake's grubby hands clutching something tightly, something that gleamed under the dim light. A box? No a briefcase... And on his face, etched clear as day, was the unmistakable gleam of greed.
As the voices faded in the background, darkness descended once more, swallowing me whole.
I drifted between realms, my mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. The world felt distant, muffled, like a scene playing underwater.
A sliver of awareness pricked through the haze, and a bone-chilling cold lanced through my body. I was strapped down. A hard surface pressed against my back, sucking the warmth from my body.
My eyelids felt like they were weighed down, but I managed to crack one open, only to be greeted by a harsh fluorescent light that seared into my retinas. Blinking away the pain, I slammed my eyelids shut again.
A deep throbbing ache radiated through every pore. Something metallic dug into my wrists, pinning me to the surface that served as my prison. I tried to thrash, to scream, but my body wouldn't obey. Two voices echoed in the sterile room with a sense of clinical detachment.
"Our priority is the refinement of the inhibitor collar, ensuring a secure attachment to the subject. We can't afford any... unforeseen complications during analysis," the first voice said.
"Indeed, Stirling," the second voice replied. "Once we have a prototype, we'll requisition Gary to finalize the installation." A pause then. "You should take a gander through this bioscanner, Doctor. Our little rock companion here seems to be defying all the rules of the periodic table. Extraterrestrial, in all likelihood."
The world dipped back into darkness.
A sharp jab in my arm jolted me awake. Pain flared, and I hissed. A needle pricked my vein. My mouth was pried open, and something rough scraped against the inside of my cheek. They probed and swabbed, collecting samples. Each touch sent fresh waves of disgust and violation through me.
Then came a new kind of pain. A cold, precise slice across my forearm, taking another piece of me. I heard a muttered curse. "Hmm, this is curious," Dr. Langley murmured. "Seems to be denser than human tissue by a significant margin. Had to press much deeper than anticipated."
The sound of a microscope being adjusted reached my ears, followed by a low whistle. "Langley, something isn't quite right with the results. The physiological readings... they're unlike anything in our database. This being...it's not like us. The subject's cellular structure suggests a non-human origin," the first voice said, genuinely astonished.
"Non-human? That's putting it mildly. Just take a look at that rock. It's as alien as it gets. This... this could win us a Nobel in Physiology, Steve."
"The informant wasn't kidding when he mentioned the lad's unnatural faculties, that's for sure," the other man mused. "But these tests... this is something else entirely. It's as if he's not even from this planet."
A tremor of realization vibrated in the other voice. "Hold on a minute. Remember that crash twenty years ago? The vessel in Section 5.3? The size matches up, doesn't it? It was large enough to accommodate an infant. And this subject, he appears to be in his early twenties. Could it be... could he be connected? Could this specimen actually be...the alien?" The room fell into a stunned silence.
Non-human. Alien. The words bounced in my skull, gibberish that my sluggish mind refused to process.
"Unbelievable," one of them finally breathed. "If these results hold true, then we're on the cusp of a scientific breakthrough unlike anything the world has ever seen. The implications..."
The world spun as the realization crashed down on me. Was I really hearing this right? Alien? Me? A storm of questions raged in my mind, each one a lightning bolt of confusion. How? Why? The sheer weight of it all pressed down on me.
Fear clutched at my heart. This whole time, I'd felt like an outsider, like I never quite belonged. But to be an actual alien, a monster from outer space masquerading as human... It was a cruel twist of fate, a cosmic joke so messed up it left me gasping for breath. I wasn't... human. I was something else. And they were going to dissect me like a lab rat.
Time stretched into an eternity as I grappled with the overwhelming truth. My once-sharp mind felt sluggish, bogged down in the thick mud of confusion. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and darkness swept in once more.
The world flickered back, pulsing in waves of white-hot agony. A searing band of pressure encircled my neck, as if something constricting was digging into my skin. A faint scent of disinfectant reached my nose. Blinking through a haze, I tried to focus and took in my surroundings. An austere lab room, lit by harsh fluorescents. Stainless steel tables held an array of instruments, some marred with dried crimson stains.
My body throbbed with pain, protesting against its sharp restraints. Two figures loomed over me, their features blurring in and out of focus. The first guy, dressed in a pristine white lab coat, looked like a kindly grandpa. His gray hair was neatly combed back, framing a face etched with wrinkles.
Beside him stood his polar opposite – a man with a rumpled lab coat hanging off his lanky frame. His hair a mess of unruly brown, a pair of thick spectacles perched precariously on his nose. My gaze darted between them, trying to piece together what the hell was going on.
The silver-haired man spoke first. "Let's ease him off a bit, Sam. Seventy percent should hold him for now. We don't want to spook the lad, do we?"
"Right, right. Wouldn't want to damage our precious specimen." The other man responded with a smirk, adjusting his glasses.
A faint click emanated from a metallic object in the doctor's hand, and with it, the pressure around my throat seemed to ease slightly.
"There, there, easy now," the grandpa-looking scientist said, offering a reassuring smile. "We're not here to harm you."
I could breathe again. A wave of nausea washed over me, the scent of disinfectant and iron now overpowering. My mind began to clear, a hint of energy sweeping back into my limbs. Panic flared in my chest, constricting my airways. I strained against the restraints, muscles screaming in protest as I fought to free my arms. The metal groaned, the bolts securing them to the bed whining in protest.
Click.
The world lurched violently at that sound. Dizziness slammed into me, stealing my newfound strength. My head lolled back onto the hard surface of the bed.
"Shhh, shhh, easy does it," the silver-haired man soothed, his thumb hovering over the remote he held. He exchanged a surprised look with his partner. "We just have a few questions, that's all. I'm Dr. Stirling, and this is Dr. Langley."
"What... what are you doing to me?" I croaked, the words scraping past my parched throat.
Dr. Langley cleared his throat. "Your... guardian, made some rather interesting claims about you, kid. He mentioned you possess some rather... remarkable abilities. Care to enlighten us?"
A cold dread settled in my gut. They knew. That goddamn weasel, Jake, had spilled my secret to these vultures in white coats. But no way in hell was I going to let them see my fear. I had to play this cool, keep them in the dark. The more I revealed, the more they'd see the anomaly I was. And that meant more tests, more probing, and possibly a lifetime behind locked doors.
"Abilities?" I managed to rasp. "I don't understand."
Dr. Stirling's eyebrows furrowed. He glanced at his partner, as if seeking reassurance, before turning back to me.
He reached for a clipboard. "Look, kid, you can cut the act," he snapped, flipping through the pages. "The scans don't lie."
"Dadadada, 6 foot 3," he mumbled as he scanned the document. "Absence of any moles or birthmarks... No, that's not it..." His voice trailed off as he flipped another page. "Ah, here!" He slammed his finger down on a specific line. "Enhanced cellular and bone density," he stated, his voice carrying the weight of irrefutable evidence. "Specialized ducts extending from the core to the ocular region." He paused for effect. "Furthermore, the results of the tissue tests indicate near-instantaneous wound closure, suggesting rapid cellular regeneration. These findings align perfectly with the informant's claims."
My mind spun with a mix of shock and anger. All this time, I knew I was different, but to hear it from these prying scientists? It hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. I recalled the whispers I had overheard earlier, or was it yesterday? Damn, this stone was playing tricks on my sense of time. They seemed to have laced it into some kind of cursed collar as well. I needed to shift the conversation, extract as much information as possible.
Locking eyes with Dr. Stirling, I forced a snarl onto my face. "You keep throwing that 'A' word around. Alien. What crash were you talking about? 'Cause last time I checked, I bleed red just like the next guy."
"Look, we understand your confusion," he explained. "but we have compelling evidence that suggests otherwise." He gestured towards Dr. Langley, who adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and stepped forward.
"The crash we referred to happened two decades ago, and it involved an unidentified vessel, small in size. Our research indicates that you might be connected to that incident."
My breath hitched. How the hell was that even possible? "Connected? How?"
"According to our investigation, the vessel was carrying an infant. Considering your approximate age, it's a reasonable assumption that you might be that child," he explained.
My mind reeled. This was insane. But the way they were talking, so sure of themselves...
"But how... how can you be so sure?" I stammered.
Langley flipped through a file, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The meteorite you have... well, it seems to exert a profound influence on you. Our analysis shows isotopic signatures and energy patterns that are... consistent with extraterrestrial origins." He looked up, his gaze meeting mine. "Also, your DNA... "shows markers unlike anything we've ever encountered in the human genome. It suggests a connection... beyond this world."
Their findings sent shockwaves through my core, scattering my thoughts in a thousand different directions.
Langley, oblivious to my internal meltdown, reached for a shiny green apple on his desk. "So, if you're willing to cooperate," he said, "we'd like you to... crush this," he added, brandishing the apple.
I arched an eyebrow. "Crush an apple? Is that your big test?"
Dr. Stirling nodded, looking genuinely excited. "Precisely! You see, the informant mentioned your exceptional faculties, and we need to assess and document their extent to conclude our study."
Hell no. I wasn't some lab rat for these science freaks to poke and prod. Playing dumb was my best strategy. "Well, firstly, my hands are restrained to this damn table, so crushing anything is a bit of a challenge. And secondly, even if the green stone grants me unique powers as you claim, how am I supposed to use them with this fancy shmancy collar keeping me locked down? It just doesn't add up."
Dr. Stirling hesitated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We can reduce the collar's output by half," he conceded. "Our goal is to gather accurate data without subjecting you to unnecessary discomfort." Yeah, right, and those red-stained scalpels and bone saws on the table next to him screamed 'comfort spa day.'
Dr. Langley reached for a remote clipped to his belt and pressed a button. The metallic bite of the cuff on my right wrist released with a resounding clank. A surge of hope bloomed in my chest. He pressed another button, and the pressure around my neck lessened noticeably.
The moment a sliver of strength returned to my limbs, I lunged for the collar, determined to rip the damn thing off and reduce it to a million pieces. The taste of freedom was within my reach.
But the second my finger brushed against the metal, a blinding green light erupted from the collar, searing through my nerves like a bolt of lightning. A primal scream ripped from my throat as my body convulsed in agony. The world dissolved into a swirling vortex of green light and pain, and then... darkness.