Dc: Law

As a hedonistic loner. This is the weirdest experience of my life.

Waking up in some crack house is one thing. Noticing my immediate reflection and realizing I'm a clone of fucking Law from one piece. Is another.

"What the fuck...?" I manage to get out before an Agonizing headache shuts down all sense of reason as I begin to convulse on the dirty carpet of this unknown crackhouse.

After what felt like ten years but couldn't be any more than 5 seconds, the pain gradually stopped as I got 15 years' worth of memories in my mind immediately.

This body. Instead, my new body name is Traflagar 'Dee' Law, an orphan medical genius who became a freshman at Gotham University with a fully covered medical degree.

All that at the age of 15. to overdose on fent given to him by a local drug dealer. Influenced by the older college students' over-exaggeration about drugs. The original owner of this body decided to try out some.

That didn't end well because he suffered from a massive overdose. Shows that intelligence doesn't equal common sense. Who the fuck takes that much fent at once without doing research.

Seriously, the kid managed to reach university at 15 years old. What a fucking monster he was. or instead I am.

I was grinning like a madman. I got up from the floor. I live in Gotham, a place from the DC universe, and I am Law from one piece. Indeed, I have his power.

"Room," I speak the words with hope. I was outstretching my hand in the all-too-familiar motion. At first, nothing happens, making me frown before my brain gets a small load of information.

It looks like I have a room, but it's invisible from what I can tell. It is only about 5 meters in radius. It's nothing special, but it is something I can work with.

"Shambles."

-Tsuiiii

My form shifts from the front to the back of my sofa. Switching places with a piece of trash left on the ground, I feel a sudden rush of exhaustion. There is not enough exhaustion that I can't keep going, but enough to feel like I just did a medium-length workout.

"Tch, pathetic. I, at most, can switch four times before I faint from exertion. But let's test that theory, shall we?" deciding to test my limit, I go again.

"Shambles."

-Tsuiiii

Again, my form shifts as I fall to a knee. Honestly, this guy hasn't done anything physical in his life. Two shambles have me feeling like I just ran a marathon at full sprinting speed.

I am taking off my shirt with some strain. I observe my frail upper body with actual disgust. I've always preferred a more lithe form but always held packed power.

This guy has none of that. Ribs showing. Noodle arms. From what I can gather from my memories, all the original Law did was focus on his studies and his part-time job to pay rent.

"How did you survive Gotham for so long while being so pathetic?" I ask myself. Clenching my fist, I frown.

My room has grown after my two uses of shambles. It's no longer 5 meters and now 10 meters, covering my entire studio apartment. That makes my frown disappear as I hum in satisfaction.

"Looks like using my powers makes my room grow, probably like milestones in video games." With some effort, I close my room as I notice to keep it up. I also am gradually losing my already trash stamina.

"So many stamina drawbacks with this shit, man..." Cursing to myself, I move to get a shower, I'm covered in sweat, and I pissed myself off after I regained my memories.

****

It's Christmas break, so I won't return to university in mid-January. I'm also on two weeks of paid leave from my job at a local diner; during my breaks, I will get this body to at least a tolerable level of physical fitness.

I'm currently wearing a lovely white hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some white vans—a casual outfit. My eyes remain vigilant as I gag on the foul smell of Gotham City.

It seems to rain in this shit hole constantly. It is a rather annoying fact, but it is bearable considering I lived in Buffalo, New York, back in my old life—another place with random dogshit weather.

I'm not too worried about some chump running up on me despite this body's trashy physical conditioning. I'm A regional kickboxing champion and a karate black belt. My raw martial arts skills alone make up for my current weakness.

What I'm genuinely in fear of is some superpowered lunatic suddenly escaping from Arkham and going on a killing spree with me in the middle of it. It's not something I want to deal with right now.

I am in dire need of workout equipment. With my powers, I practiced and noticed switching to inanimate objects is about 75% less energy-exhausting than switching between myself and an inanimate object.

So, I will walk into an alleyway near the Gotham gym and steal some dumbells.

Of course, my musing ends when I feel somebody following me; observation haki perhaps? Something to look into later.

Turning my head so as not to alert my followers but enough so that I can get a glance at them, I notice a fat loser in a trench coat tailing me. I remain unfazed by him. Sure, I may look like an easy mark, but I will kick his teeth in if he does something.

I halted near a particularly dark alleyway and shoved rudely into a wall. Holding in a grunt, I glare at my two attackers.

"Hand over everything in your pockets, and we may go easy on you, kid," the man pinning me demands as I hold in a snort. Looking into his eyes, I speak defiantly.

"Get your hand off me, or I will Break it," I respond with some venom in my tone at this guy daring to lay a hand on me. His eyes widen as I maneuver my leg to kick off the alleyway wall.

Breaking out of his hold, I silently mutter the room as my room encompasses the three of us—still ten meters. I enter a kickboxing stance as I smirk at my opponents.

"You went to one martial arts class. And you think you can handle us? Do you know who we are, kid?!'" The two men charge me; I feel a slight sensory boost as I wait for them to close the distance.

I can sense micro-movements of all kinds in my room. Tilting my head, I dodge a punch; entering the taller man's guard, I land a flying knee to his face, punishing him for overextending.

Blood shoots from his nose as he stumbles back. Taking a giant step backward, I avoid a surprising flying kick from the shorter, fat guy. he recovers quickly and closes the distance.

With years of experience, I counter a left hook with an elbow to the man's face. My face is a mask of calm as I batter the two older men. The tall one recovers as I send his friend skidding with a front kick to his bubble gut.

"Damn, you little shit! I'm going to kill you!" the tall one yells as I smile. Dodging his flurry of punches, I kick out his poorly placed left leg and make him trip. With a small maneuver, I punch his already descending face. Slamming his head into the concrete below as I hear a satisfying crack.

"Too emotional," I say to the unconscious man. In case someone like Batman is watching and jerking off from my fight, I made sure they attacked first. Even if that head injury kills that guy, this all falls under self-defense, of course.

"So, you gonna step to me?' I ask the Fatty, who still hasn't recovered from that elbow I gave him. It looks like he's more skilled than his friend but has no pain tolerance.

"D-Do you know who we are? We are members of Black Mask's gang! We will get you for this!" the man attempts to run, but with one word, I switch his friend's unconscious form with his own.

"That's fine; I'll just make you forget what happened today then," I say as I land a kick to the man's head—making him fall head-first into the nearby brick wall.

After confirming they both were unconscious, I slumped a bit, my breathing heavy from the mental exertion. Who knew switching people other than myself would be so exhausting?

That is another thing to add to my checklist. Switching other people is more exhausting than changing myself.

"Not even my first day in this place, and I'm already getting into fights, tsk." I put my hands into my hoodie pockets and leave the alleyway.