The Future #112
'Now I wait...' I mused, sitting on the edge of a roof overlooking the Iceberg Lounge. I'd already installed several cameras and mics in the basement area.
All that's left to do is wait for the signal from the tracking device I left in Killer Croc's pocket to start moving and follow it to what is hopefully the base of operations for the people pulling on The Penguin's strings.
Leaving a tracking device in Killer Croc's pocket might have sounded risky, as anyone would find it if they were smart enough to search his body for anything like that, but I was ready for that eventuality.
The device was something I built myself, and I could activate a small charge that would destroy it, turning it into nothing but grains of scrap metal that even I couldn't put back together unless I used my machine morph and assembly powers.
Speaking of those two powers, I tested their limits sometime before the tournament in a scrap yard, and let me tell you, that shit was impressive as fuck.
Machine assembly basically allowed me to create any machine as long as I had the required parts to build it close by or in my inventory and disassemble it with but a thought, as long as I understood its inner workings and basic design.
Machine Morphing allowed me to change and morph a machine's inner components to any shape I liked, like turning a semi-automatic pistol into a fully automatic one by manipulating its firing mechanisms.
The finished product might be flawed and prone to overheating and similar issues because the original design and materials were more suited for semi-automatic firing, and that's where combining the two powers would come clutch.
Unfortunately, both powers were limited by my mechanics skill level. Thus I couldn't do anything exaggerated with them just yet. But that would come in due time.
'Time... huh?' I chuckled at the thought. I was slowly coming to realize the things I could do, my potential, if you will, now that I had the leeway to think about it and contemplate the future, mine, and that of the world.
Every day used to be a struggle for me. I battled my insecurities and lived in fear of the city's villains, Batman, and the consequences of my actions and choices catching up with me.
I was merely living, and my survival was the only thing on my mind with no thought for the future. First, it was getting out of Logan's apartment, and obsessing over money, which I still do to some degree.
Then it was the struggle to maintain my secret identity, my various interactions with Selina and Harley, being prepared to kill, and taking KGBeast's life in a fit of rage.
Finally, it was my irrational fear of Batman.
Now? I couldn't give a shit about money (sort of-kind of-somewhat didn't, you get the idea), my secret identity, and even the Caped Crusader himself.
With my current skill set, I could make enough money to spend for a lifetime just sitting on my ass and doing nothing like your average couch potato.
My secret identity didn't matter to me anymore since the only two people I was close to were Benjamin and Richard, and good luck trying to fuck with those two.
Batman, though? I still didn't want to mess with him if possible, but seeing his brief moment of panic, that slight passing display of weakness when he realized his buddies messed with his mind, made me understand he was only a human who would bleed the same red as me.
In a way, bleeding red wasn't the only thing we had in common since I was just as suspicious and anti-social towards others as he was, but somehow I don't see us bonding over that while having a beer in a corner bar.
With all that pressure off my shoulders, my mind was finally clear to think about the future, what I really wanted to make of myself, and what I wanted to make of this world.
I even started having fun with my powers and noticing the positives of my situation rather than single-mindedly focusing on the negatives. I turned to the possibilities of this world and away from the impossibilities.
Once I knew where to look, I witnessed infinite potential, sitting there, waiting— to be harnessed. Or so I'd grandly and boldly declare if I was some mustache-twirling comic villain with glinting shifty eyes, a sly grin, and a diabolical scheme to take over the world, but you get the idea.
I still had my worries, of course, but who didn't? Even if mine vastly differed from the clueless average joe, like the shit Etrigan casually dropped on my lab in the cemetery.
Either way, I now knew better than to drown myself in overthinking and worrying, and that's all that mattered. I was here, in good health and better circumstances than most, capable of things the average man could only dream of doing.
In a way, I was living many people's dreams. My paranoia and thinking that if something feels too good to be true, it probably is, were the only things getting in my way.
Though I couldn't dismiss my suspicions, so rooted and at home in the darkest corners of my mind as they were, I could at least keep them there, never-forgotten or dismissed, but sealed away.
Alas, my chain of thought was interrupted by a thud behind me. Barely holding back a sigh, I bitterly smiled as I slowly turned around to face the person who managed to sneak up on me, whoever they were, with only one thought in my mind.
'Please don't be Batman... Please don't be Batman; anyone but Batman...' I internally chanted as if my thoughts could alter reality while I turned around.
I immediately regretted my thoughts as I finally had an eye-full of the person behind me and immediately recognized them.
'Awe come on.... couldn't you just be Batman?'
...
Somewhere in America
An abandoned circus
Well within an abandoned circus court lies a dark and horrible torture room. Inside it was a man wearing a pig mask and a white apron, stained in fresh blood. He was operating on a woman, who did not seem thrilled at the treatment. She screamed in agony and thrashed against her restraints to no avail.
"YES! SCREAM NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN!" the man in a pig mask madly exclaimed, cackling even as he continued to operate on the woeful, agonized woman.
He was Lazlo Valentine, better known as Professor Pyg, a deranged, schizophrenic scientist and the Circus Of The Strange's founder. His only purpose in life was turning helpless victims into mindless obedient dolls he called the Dollotrons.
The Circus not only served as a physical hideout and operation room to create Pyg Dolls but is the living space of various evil, demented people who saw Professor Pyg as their leader.
"Resist if you must; it's no use— I will soon make you run to me... obey me... love me..." Professor Pyg added more calmly as he stopped working, taking a step back to appreciate his handy work as the woman stopped screaming.
"Arise my doll..." The demented scientist muttered, and the woman obliged, slowly sitting up as she turned to him, a blank doll-like expression on her face.
"SSSOOOEEE!" the professor raised his head and howled in excitement and satisfaction at completing yet another masterpiece. It never got old, no matter how many tens or hundreds he turned to Dollotrons.
"Impressive..." a calm, hypnotic voice sounded from a dark corner of the room, startling the deranged scientist, and he reacted by taking hold of his knife and turning to the source.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" the professor angrily exclaimed, his body tense as he held the knife in front of his face and threateningly gestured at the intruder who was yet to reveal himself.
"An admirer of your work, professor..." the intruder said as he walked out of the shadow, revealing a handsome visage, which the half-face masquerade mask he wore couldn't hide.
"It would be a shame to see a man as talented as you waste away here in this forgotten corner of the world..." he added as he walked forward with a leisurely grin stretching his lips.
"There's a much grander stage a man like you could use to show the world his brilliance..." the theatrically dressed man went on, grandly gesturing to the side, causing his black cape to flutter.
"I can take you there... with my aid, you will shine, and your light shall blind the world..." he concluded as he reached towards the deranged scientist, his smile widening.
"Who are you...?" Professor Pyg said, still clutching his knife, but the man's words seemed to have worked their magic as the deranged scientist looked much more relaxed.
"I have been called many names... but you may address me as Hurt, Doctor Hurt..."
...
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