[FFML] [DC] Destruction and Rebirth

[StudioPC]

Oooh. Barabra as Supergirl, I like it.

On Aug 3, 2008, at 10:51 PM, Aaron Nowack wrote:

> This is not the horrible DC fanfic idea I alluded to in my overlong
> introduction to "A Legend of the First Bloodline."  This is a  
> different
> DC fanfic idea.  No guarantees on it not also being horrible, though.
>
> This story will make the most sense if you're familiar with the Linda
> Danvers Supergirl from the late 90s/early 2000s and with the
> Cataclysm/No Man's Land event from the Batman books.  I tried to  
> make it
> comprehensible with only basic DC knowledge, though.  We'll see how  
> well
> I did.
>
> As ever, any C&C is welcomed.
>
> Destruction and Rebirth
> A DC Universe Fanfic
> By: Aaron Nowack
>
> ********************************************************************** 
> *
> Disclaimer: The universe and its characters belong to DC Comics.  Only
> the words are mine.
> Special Disclaimer: The timeline of the canon DC universe would not
> allow this story to be a possibility.  So I altered the timeline.  If
> that bothers you, pretend that Superboy Prime punched this version of
> time a little bit harder.
> ********************************************************************** 
> *
>
>         I can't move my legs.
>         I can fly, but I can't move my legs.
>         I can fly?  Where did that come from?  I've never... people
> don't... do I?  I can fly, I can't move my legs, and I can't remember
> why.
>         I have a photographic memory, and I can't remember why I can't
> move my legs.  Why I'm certain that I can fly.  I have a photographic
> memory, and I can't remember my name.  About the only thing I can
> remember at the moment is that my memory is perfect.
>         I must be insane.  Lock me up in Arkham with all the  
> psychotics
> Bruce...
>         I can't remember my name, but I know that Bruce Wayne is the
> Batman.  Tim Drake is Robin.  Dick Grayson was Robin, but is now
> Nightwing.  Clark Kent is Superman.  I know all these secrets - and  
> that
> they are secrets - but I don't know who I am.  Where I am.
>         Besides lying on a hard, cold concrete floor.  A wet concrete
> floor.  Not water.  Something thicker, redder.  Blood?  My blood?  I
> hurt - every part of me.  Useless foot to my head of filthy, matted  
> red
> hair.  I need a shower.
>         In front of me is a broken pair of glasses.  My glasses.   
> But my
> sight isn't blurry, and I remember having perfect - better than  
> perfect
> - vision.  Did I just wear them as a... fashion statement?  That  
> doesn't
> sound like me.
>         Who am I kidding?  I don't know who I am, much less my  
> taste in
> accessories.  And I still don't know where I am.  Maybe I should look.
> Maybe I should have looked earlier, instead of pondering why I wore
> glasses.  I am an intelligent woman, after all.  I think.
>         I lift my head, and I see a shattered room.  Rubble is
> everywhere.  Directly in front of me are computers - my computers -  
> not
> a one of which is working.  Some of the monitors are broken, the rest
> display only static.  There's still power, but something must have
> damaged the actual computers.
>         "Something," I mutter to myself in a voice that is at once  
> both
> familiar and strange.  "It looks like a bomb went off in here."   
> Perhaps
> it was a bomb, intended to... what?  I feel like I should know why
> someone would want to bomb my... office?  But of course I can't
> remember.  Thoughts spin through my head, chasing the shadows of
> memories that should be there as I take in each familiar, ruined  
> object
> before me.
>         I turn my head to look behind me, and the first thing I see is
> the wheelchair, flattened by a fallen wall.  I swallow dryly.  My
> wheelchair.  The wall that could have - did? - flatten me.  My head
> spins again.
>         Then I notice the cloth lying on my back.  I reach to feel it
> with one hand, an alien yet familiar texture.  Soft, but I  
> instinctively
> know that it is strong, strong enough to survive the strains I... put
> it... through?  My head pounds as I lift the crimson cloth, trying to
> get a good look at it.
>         The golden, stylized S I recognize in an instant.  Superman.
> This is his cape?  Then I see the rest of the costume, the red  
> skirt and
> the high boots, and I correct myself.  Supergirl.
>         Facts and figures swarm in my mind, things that no ordinary
> person should know.  Called Matrix, or "Mae."  Not Krytponian, despite
> the name Supergirl.  A shapeshifter and telekinetic, besides the usual
> strength, speed, and flight.  No precise origin I know - a fact that
> sends a spike of frustration and annoyance through me, even as I start
> to remember something about alternate worlds, a "protoplasmic matrix,"
> and Lex Luthor.
>         Supergirl.  The word explodes in my head, and I... I remember.
>         I remember sitting in my wheelchair, discussing the usual
> criminal matters with Bruce.
>         I remember flying over Gotham, on my way back to Metropolis.
>         I remember losing the connection to the Cave, frowning in
> annoyance a moment before the everything starts to shake.
>         I remember watching the building below tremble, hearing the
> sudden screams of thousands calling for aid.
>         I remember something hitting me from behind, pain leading to
> blackness.
>         I remember saving a man, a police officer, I don't recognize -
> my father.
>         I remember waking, barely able to move, pinned beneath the
> fallen wall.
>         I remember nodding when my father asks me to find myself.
>         I remember pulling myself free of the rubble, trying to ignore
> the pain and the blood.
>         I remember swooping into the room, seeing myself dying on the
> floor.  Stupidly, I ask if I'm alright,
>         I remember a weak laugh that turns into a fit of coughing.  I
> tell myself to take my costume, hidden in a box in the closet, to my
> father, and that he will understand.
>         I remember hesitation, and then embracing myself.
>         I remember pain and blackness.
>         I remember my name.  I remember who I am.
>         I am Barbara Gordon, once Batgirl, now Oracle.  I am Matrix,
> Mae, Supergirl.
>         I took my name for myself, lost it, and created a new one.  I
> was given my name, and have never been worthy of it.
>         I cannot move my legs.  I can fly.
>         The conflicting thoughts and memories war in my head.  Who -
> which am I?  What did I/Supergirl do to me/Barbara?
>         There is a rumble, and everything shakes.  Aftershocks.  More
> damage.  More deaths.  More injuries.  There are people who need  
> saving.
> Who need me.  Who need Supergirl.
>         And then I am in motion, donning Supergirl's... my costume
> faster than the eye can see with practiced ease, even as I know that I
> cannot accomplish such a thing.  I am out the window I came though in
> the space of a breath, and the restored feeling in my legs seems
> perfectly normal and miraculous at the same time.
>         Familiar, alien blonde hair flies out of my face as I speed
> through the skies of Gotham City, arresting the fall of a massive  
> chunk
> of a building and hurling it into the bay with one smooth motion.
> Below, a man struggles to escape a car, wedged into a crack in the  
> road.
> It takes mere seconds to free him, depositing him safely on the
> sidewalk.
>         In a minute, I have saved six more people, but I cannot save
> them all.  There is too much destruction, too many lives in  
> danger.  Too
> much for one person, even Supergirl, to deal with.  A cold,  
> calculating
> part of me, that I never knew I had, that is all I've been for years,
> tells me that I'm wasting myself.  That I need to be solving the worst
> problems, not just attacking the ones in front of me.
>         Before I can second-guess myself further, I find Jim Gordon -
> saving another three people on the way.  He's outside the police
> headquarters, in an improvised command post, and he starts as I  
> come in
> for a landing in front of him.
>         "Barbara?" he asks, his voice strained.  "Is she -"
>         "I - she's fine," I say, forcing back the vertigo of  
> conflicting
> thoughts my father's presence brings.  "What's the situation?   
> Where can
> I be the most help?"
>         Gordon breathes a sigh of relief, and then he is all business.
> "The fires are the worst," he says.  "I don't suppose you have some  
> sort
> of super-ice breath to put them out with?"
>         It takes a moment to remember whether I can, but then I  
> shake my
> head.
>         My father nods sadly.  "There's pocket we can't get to,
> surrounded by fire.  We're attacking it from the outside, but that  
> might
> not be enough.  If you can get those people out, Supergirl -"
>         "On it," I say, and I take to air once more.
>         It takes less than ten minutes to evacuate almost a hundred
> people, get them to relative safety outside the walls of flame.   
> I'm not
> certain whether that's fast or slow for me.  By now, the others should
> be arriving, from Metropolis, from Keystone City and even farther  
> away.
> I think I see a blur of red and blue in the distance, Superman or
> Superboy, but I shy away from it.
>         I make another pass over the rapidly dwindling pocket, making
> sure I got everyone out.  I don't see anyone, and then a sudden,  
> almost
> panicked urge makes me keep going, instead of heading back to my  
> father.
> I don't stop until I reach the ruins I know are the Wayne Manor, even
> though I've never been there, because I've been there a thousand  
> times.
> One thousand, two hundred and twelve, to be exact.
>         My head pounds, and once more I struggle to avoid the
> contradiction.  I land outside what would have been the main entrance.
> Unlike every other Wayne-owned building, the manor itself was never
> reinforced to withstand earthquakes.  No doubt to protect the secrets
> buried underneath.  The secrets I know, even though Clark never shared
> them with me, because I figured them out myself years before I came to
> this world.  What -
>         No.  There's no time for that.  I call out loudly,  
> straining my
> hearing for any response.  My senses are enhanced, though not as  
> much as
> Clark's, but I hear nothing.  I take to the air again, passing low  
> over
> the rubble and searching for any sign that anyone's down there,  
> alive or
> dead.  I find nothing.
>         They must be below, I decide, and I swerve for the nearest
> hidden entrance that I couldn't know was there.  Debris blocks it, but
> it's a matter of seconds to clear it, and then I'm flying down the
> winding path to the Cave.
>         One survivor, that I recognize though I've never seen him
> before.  Alfred, Bruce Wayne's butler.  "The way out is clear," I tell
> him, forcing myself to sound like there's nothing odd about Supergirl
> finding the cave.  "Where's Batman?"
>         He gestures helplessly to a hole the earthquake had opened in
> the cave floor.  Water pours down into it.  "He tried to search down
> there for an exit, ma'am.  Right before the aftershock hit."  Almost a
> half hour ago.
>         "How long's his air supply good for?" I ask, even as I  
> remember
> the answer.  Not nearly that long.  "Go, get to safety," I tell  
> Alfred.
> "I'll go after him."  Without waiting for a response, I plunge into  
> the
> depths.
>         The force of the currents is nothing compared to the  
> strength of
> my inhuman muscles, but I follow them anyway.  Bruce was fit - beyond
> fit, near the height of human perfection - but not strong enough to  
> swim
> against this rapid flow.  The way is blocked by more rubble, and I  
> push
> through, barely slowing.  Moments later, I find him, trapped in a  
> pocket
> of air, conserving his air supply.
>         I swim up beside him, and he tries not to let his shock show.
> "I've cleared the way back to the Cave," I say, not giving him a  
> chance
> to speak.  "Do you have enough air?"
>         He doesn't answer for several seconds.  "If you help," he says
> finally.
>         "Then let's move," I tell him, and we do.  Less than a minute
> later, we're back in the Cave.  Alfred hasn't left, of course, and he
> helps Batman to his feet.
>         "How did you know where to find me?" he growls at me, but I'm
> not intimidated by his anger.  I haven't been for years, even though
> I've never been comfortable around the Batman.
>         "I... Barbara Gordon told me," I answer.  It's the truth, in a
> way, and I'm not sure I want to try and explain what I'm not  
> certain of
> myself.  Definitely not now, not to him.
>         Batman snarls, and Alfred lays a hand on his shoulder.   
> "I... I
> suppose you can be trusted," he admits after a moment.  "Though I will
> have to have words with Ms. Gordon when all this is finished."
>         Anger explodes in me, and before I can realize that it's a bad
> idea, I'm in the man's face.  "I - she saved your life!  If she hadn't
> told me, you'd still be trapped down there!"  I force myself to calm
> down, and take a step back.  "There's other people in danger.  I  
> need to
> go."  I turn around, and try not to listen in as Alfred whispers to
> Bruce.
>         I stop, surprised, when Batman speaks.  "Thank you," he said
> grudgingly.
>         I turn my head back to him.  "You're welcome," is all I say in
> response, and then I take to air again, speeding back up the secret
> passageway and out onto the Wayne Manor grounds.
>         Who - what - am I?  Supergirl?  Why do I have Barbara  
> Gordon's -
> Oracle's - memories?  I was... trying to save her.  Tried to share my
> healing abilities with her.  Something I'd never attempted before.
>         Did we... merge, somehow?  Or did I consume her, like the  
> alien,
> unnatural monster I am in my nightmares?
>         I can't answer those questions now.  I have to just be
> Supergirl.  Until the crisis passes.  When there's time to think -  
> time
> to shapeshift back to Barbara Gordon's form and see what effect that
> has, the clinical part of me I'm beginning to understand is Oracle's
> interjects - then I can figure it out.  On my own, or with help if
> needed.
>         If I... we... are a merger, then I will figure out what to do
> about this change to my, our lives.  If I am the monster, then... I  
> will
> tell Clark.  And he will do what he needs to do.  If he won't, Bruce
> will.
>         But, until then, there are people that need saving.  And  
> neither
> part of me intends to let them down.
>
> ********************************************************************** 
> *
>
> Author's Random Rambling
>
>         So, yeah, I recently read the Peter David Supergirl stuff.   
> And
> all through it, I kept on pondering other characters that Matrix could
> have merged with besides Linda Danvers.  Because I'm a fanfic writer,
> and that's the kind of thing we do.
>         Despite not working out at all timeline-wise, this idea  
> stuck in
> my head.  Because the only thing better than Supergirl or Batgirl is
> Super-Batgirl, right?  (I did ponder using the _other_ Batgirl, but  
> this
> idea came together more interestingly.)
>         I actually see a fair bit of potential for future stories  
> taking
> off from this concept, through No Man's Land and beyond.  Whether  
> any of
> those stories will get written is, as always, dependent on free  
> time and
> cooperative muses.
>
> -- 
>            Aaron Nowack
> "Never let reality get in the way of a good hypothesis."
> http://www.mimiru.net/
>
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