Chapter 116 - My SI Stash #16 - Stranglevine by Timthecarp (Young Justice)

-Recently published, SI as the son of Poison Ivy and Batman. Also Joker as a babysitter~

*NSFW SI Young Justice fic on QQ, you'll have to make an account to get access to the story!

Sypnosis: ???

Rated: M

Words: 13K

Posted on: forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/stranglevine-young-justice-si.11081/page-7#post-3063086 (Timthecarp)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1+2 (exceptional)

Have you ever had a bad day? Rain ruining a barbeque, some jackass keys your car, your dog runs away, hell maybe your wife leaves you and never comes back. Broken bones, moldy bread, not getting sleep, hard tests, and a friend who stabs you in the back and twists the knife only because they can.

And you think about it, you sit and put your hands into your hair and really think about it and come to the only conclusion that someone who lives for long enough could have ever made. Of course you've had bad days, but like everyone else struggling along on this ball of shit and piss that is the earth you move on and live your life. Because what else could you do? Life isn't a game where your home town gets destroyed by the big bad you'll then have to go on an epic journey to defeat. Not a grand comic book origin story where that one event defines you for the rest of your life, where it pushes you to cripple criminals after your parents get murdered in front of you. Maybe things would be simpler if it was.

Life is a series of good and bad days, but all it takes is one bad day to ruin everything you've ever worked to achieve. One exceptionally bad day where a log falls off a big ass truck and destroys your upper torso, like in Final Destination. Or maybe you get covered in some weird pseudoscience chemical that turns your skin green and gives you legs that just don't quit.

Well, that last one seems more like a positive, but whatever. I never said the analogy was perfect. It's hard to come up with something clever as your guts spill out into the street, I'm sure you wouldn't be able to do any better.

Anyway, this is my 'One Bad Day'. Stomach cut open by a pathetic fedora wearing, neckbeard having, weeb incel NEET wielding the dumbest katana ever devised by man. For God's sake, the pommel and hilt were pink and yellow and the blade had some anime dragon bullshit engraved into it. Such an embarrassing way to die, and so so pointless. I don't know why he thought that going on a rampage in rural Texas with a katana was a good idea, even now as my hearing dulls and the world loses color I can hear the faint bangs and pops of weaponry. Then the meaty thump of his fat lardass smacking against the pavement as he's presumably riddled with lead.

Good, at least I was avenged in the end.

Some faint screaming and crying hits my senses, the pounding of boots on pavement, the feeling of someone trying to shove my guts back into my abdominal cavity. All so pointless, by this point I've lost so much blood. Some wet drops hit my face, drawing me out of my monologue and into the real world. Some random woman yelling at me, yelling something I can't really understand. Probably to stay awake or some cliché shit like that.

Let me tell you some advice, people in my head. Telling someone to stay awake doesn't really help when most of their blood is painting the sidewalk like a 5th grader's abstract art project.

Ah... shit... what was I talking about again? Oh well. I need a blanket or something.

"It's s-so c-cold. Someone k-kick Jack Frost's ass, he's t-too chill."

And then the sun dims and goes out, and all I knew were dreams.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some hot goth girl whispering softly into my ear, a gimp with a bat theme, some flying man dressed in red and blue delivering me cookies. And then green everywhere with a dash of red hair that would make any Irishman jealous. Flashes of nonsense and bright shifting color. It goes on forever, or what feels like forever, before everything goes black again.

Whatever insane nonsensical dream I'm in now, I can at least thank God that it's calm and relatively inoffensive. I mean sure, there's an ever present 'thu-thump-thu-thump' noise that's pretty annoying, and it's kinda gross feeling in here, and I can't really move my limbs, and I can't breathe, and-

Well I'm sure you head-people get the picture, but at least I have limbs, at least I can feel things, and I don't have to watch a Turkey-man get blasted up the ass with a baster filled with a white liquid. And that's one of the ones that wasn't even that bad compared to the soul raping noise of a few dreams that momentarily made me insane. But it's all fine! I just had to go insane enough that I went right back around the bend.

Admittedly, my definition of sane might be a teeny tiny bit different from yours. But you're head-people, your opinion doesn't matter! Still, I don't know what I'd do without you head-people. You're my bestest fwiends fowever~!

...the Silent Treatment huh? How typical of you, your passive aggressive silence almost makes me miss that whatever place I'm in now is getting really cramped. Oh shit! Oh f.u.c.k gross gross gross gross-

The slimy walls of the room flex and ripple, pulling me forwards towards a blindingly bright light. Then moments later I'm free, held in the hands of what feels like a giant before I'm promptly turned over and smacked on the ass with their giant meaty hand. Then I start to cry like a f.u.c.k.i.n.g baby, because f.u.c.k.i.n.g owww! Have you ever been slapped on your right asscheek by a giant? Of course not, because in what world do ass-slapping giants exist in?!

Then I open my eyes, trying to get a glimpse of the person who hit me, and see multiple things that floor me. Firstly, the huge man's eyes are glassy and dull, looking more at home on a build-a-bear than a man. Secondly, I'm a damn baby, with motherf.u.c.k.i.n.g green skin. Thirdly, the woman who's cunt I just got pulled out of has green skin, blood red hair, and admittedly some really nice tits, and is currently laying on a bed made out of plants. Said sweat drenched woman looks at me with eyes filled with some emotion I couldn't even begin to describe, then she opens her mouth.

"Bri- Bring my baby boy over here would you?"

I barely register the robotic 'Yes Mistress' from the man, or his janky movement as he brings me over to the veritable goddess lying on the plant-based table. All I could think about in that moment was her voice, like the singing of God's personal choir, like the chirping of birds on a mid-summers afternoon, like-like the voice of an angel.

Wait. Oh f.u.c.k, that's Poison Ivy. She's my mother. The Eco-Terrorist. The mind control pheremone emitting, man seducing, batman hating, Poison f.u.c.k.i.n.g Ivy.

As I grow closer to her I kinda… flop around, trying to get away. It, of course, doesn't work because I'm a literal newborn baby with almost no muscle strength to speak of. So I start to... well, you know... It's not my proudest moment and it's really embarrassing, but I start to bawl like I'm being carried to the electric chair. Because I was only just born and her mind control shit's already affecting me, it's terrifying to feel myself fall head over heels in love with someone like that at the drop of a pin. I mean sure, she has huge tits, thicc thighs, a muscle tone over her whole visible body that would make models the world over scream in rage filled jealousy, and though I can't see her ass it's probably perfect too- see!? Mind control is the only explanation for my i.n.c.e.s.tuous feelings! Even if she's my type, I can't be attracted to my mom! That's gross!

Wrapped up in my conflicted thoughts as I am, it comes as a surprise when I feel my right cheek hit n.i.p.p.l.e.

Oh, he handed me over.

Then Ivy slowly rocks me back and fourth, then starts to speak in that voice parents use around infants.

"Oooh, what's the matter? It's alright, momma's right here, everything's going to be alright. Are you hungry? Here you go~"

And then she shoves her n.i.p.p.l.e into my mouth. I then promptly stop crying and start sucking, because holy f.u.c.k this is the opportunity of a lifetime and I'm not wasting it by being a little bitch. Things go like this for a few minutes, I suck, she coos and makes baby noises while the brainwashed guy stands blankly in the corner of the room made of plants. You know, nothing out of the ordinary here, no sir just a normal every day birth.

Then, and follow me here, a female clown stripper strides into the room. Blonde hair, twintails dyed red and blue, a shirt with a boob window, a skirt that's probably too short and some fishnet stockings ending in black high heeled boots, white facepaint and glossy red lipstick on puffy d.i.c.k sucking lips. The usual clown stripper attire.

"Ya done in here Red? I wanna see the baby already, you've been screaming for hours!"

Ivy flinches, muttering something about bats, condoms, and 'never again' before brightly smiling at the clown person.

"Here he is Harley, isn't he adorable!? Look at his cheeks, his hair, his eyes. Isn't he absolutely perfect!?"

Who I guess is Harley Quinn walks over and bends down to get a closer look, eyes filled with skepticism and mouth drawn into a slight pout.

"Sure, he's pretty cute I guess. I don't really see the appe-"

Her harsh words are cut off by me unlatching from Ivy's n.i.p.p.l.e and giving out a tiny burp. Harley's previously unexcited face suddenly lights up at my spontaneous cuteness. You could almost see her pupils turn into hearts! Her resulting squeal could probably be heard all the way to Mars!

"EEEEeee! He's so cute! Who's a widdle baby? That's right, it's you! Let auntie Harls pinch your itty bitty widdle cheek~"

Yeeeeeesssss, ALL SHALL BOW TO MY CUTENESS! MUHUHAHAHAHA-ow! Quitit!

My smug reign of cute baby terror was cut short by her reaching out and pinching my cheek just hard enough to be uncomfortable. Still pinching my cheek, she turns her head to look at Mo-Ivy.

"I can't believe B-man helped make something so precious!"

Ivy grimaces again. "Ugh, I know. I can't believe it either. I guess it's my fault for not bringing my own contraceptives, but why didn't he bring bat-condoms or something!?"

Oh shit, my dad is Bruce Wayne. My dad is Batman.

That lucky f.u.c.k! He did it raw! I want to do it raw! I bet he doesn't even pay bat-child support! Why can't I pay bat-child support!?

Wait-

They talk back and fourth, complaining about batman and how he punched Joker in the face hard enough to make him lose a tooth. I mutely follow along for a while before I notice a head poke through the doorway. The Joker and I lock eyes and stare at each other for what feels like minutes before he grins at me in the way only a lunatic can, winks at me, and then walks away.

Well, that was a thing.

Refocusing back on to Ivy and Harley I idly reach back for Ivy's tit. I am still kinda hungry, and whatever weird plant milk coming from her b.r.e.a.s.ts tastes pretty nice. Suckling on her boob, I feel like everything is going to turn out okay.

Oh dammnit I jinxed myse-

Chapter 2

My new life went how you would generally expect for a newborn baby, you know the deal. Eat, sleep, drink, shit, and piss. Utterly boring and tedious in the extreme, the only thing that occasionally saved me from the usual monotony were visits from Aunt Harley and Uncle Jay. They'd come in on random days, at random hours, occasionally looking like they'd just come from a life threatening confrontation, clothes damaged in some way, bodies littered with another injury or another. But no matter their condition they were all smiles and laughter, a source of such eternal enduring joy it was almost pathetically easy for me to forget that they were crazy mass murdering lunatics. Somehow the thought of people getting hurt didn't bother me in the slightest.

With my mom things were… not so great. Sometimes there would be weeks where she didn't leave my side for anything, and then she'd completely vanish into the ether on others. During these long periods of absence I would be babysat by Auntie, with some special occasions with Joker taking the wheel.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Oh god what did he do to you!?"

Well head-people, I am happy to say that he did absolutely nothing to me. No bad words, no errant slaps, as a babysitter his only 'bad' quality would be his constant insistence on teaching me things. How to mix certain chemicals to make Smilex, how to assemble gag props, how to best psychologically tear down your opponents (that one had a puppet show!), generally it was all mostly practical knowledge with a fun twist to keep my attention.

Harley on the other tiny baby hand was a source of general entertainment with a few life lessons thrown into the mix. When it's okay to break a rude minion's kneecaps (It's always okay to do that, duh), Sock puppet shows usually ending with batman getting beaten up into a pulp by cute sock versions of all his rogues, how to best pop an arm or leg back into place, and so on.

My first few months of life consisted of this constant cycle of overbearing love-filled smothering, and then absence. Though I really had no idea what on earth she was doing during these 'trips', I could guess that it probably involved super-villainy and getting punched in the face by a gimp with a fetish for bats, and his child assistant. And while I didn't exactly appreciate that my mom was getting hurt constantly, it's not like there was anything I could really do about it other than sit in my plant crib and shit myself.

So I sit and drink the same shit I drink everyday, from the tit or from the bottle. That's right, it's f.u.c.k.i.n.g plant b.r.e.a.s.t milk, and let me tell you something, it tastes pretty alright. Now while it tastes good, it sure as shit isn't normal milk. I've tasted normal milk, you've probably tasted normal milk, this shit tastes like fruit juice except I can't tell from what kind of fruit. Now if it was only the taste I wouldn't care that much about the difference, but I swear this has something in it that shouldn't be in it. Why do I think it has some kind of pseudoscience bullshit chemical in it? Well, it's the fact that I look like a f.u.c.k.i.n.g goddamn eight year old kid when it's only been four months. So it's either the milk that's making me mature faster, or it's the fact that I'm a freaky plant person. Maybe even both, I don't know.

Part of me wants to eat something else, anything else, but when I ask mom all I get is "It's good for you, you don't need anything else!" and when I ask Auntie and Uncle they just give each other a look and refuse with some weak excuse littered with even weaker apologies. So that's… something mildly worrying at the very least. Though I noticed the flavor change every so often, so I suppose my complaint was taken into account. Ah, oh well. I suppose that I'll have to be a big boy and just deal with it.

I'm thrown out of my bi-weekly report to the College of Head-people when mommy walks into the room, some of her newest mind controlled servants following meekly behind her as she approaches my kingdom of wooden toys. She bends down and gives me a hug, putting my head between her bodacious b.r.e.a.s.ts, then smiling warmly, she starts to deliver the same bad news as six weeks ago.

"Sweety? Mommy needs to go on a… trip again. Your aunt and uncle will come by sometime today, just play with your toys until they come by, alright?"

Snuggling up to her, I pout a little.

"Okay mommy, just come back soon okay? Auntie and Uncle get weird when they stay here for too long."

She hugs me tightly for a few moments, and although I can't see her face I imagine she looks conflicted. Bringing my face into her hands, she bends down and kisses me on the cheek.

"Alright Buttercup, I can cut my trip a little short if you want. Maybe when I get back we can start working on your powers again?"

My face lights up, a smile that would do Uncle proud stretching across my visage at the good news.

"Can we!? Yes yes YES!"

I bodily launch myself at Ivy, latching onto her front like the dreaded Australian Drop Bear. And if my hands wandered off in some inappropriate directions it's not my fault, it's 'accidental'. After all, in the words of Harley, I'm just a 'cute little puddin pop'.

Ivy smirks and rolls her eyes before rubbing my back in small circles, then, moving her mouth to my ear she huskily whispers "Do you want to get off yourself, or do I have to help you."

Sensing that I had perhaps overplayed my hand, I swiftly dropped down. Finally free of my constricting grip, my mother stands back upright. With a minute gesture her brainwashed servants quickly exit the room while she slowly walks towards the doorway, her full curvaceous ass looking enticing as it jiggles with each exaggerated motion. When she crosses the threshold of the doorway she turns back slightly, then winks and blows a kiss.

"Bye, dear. Harley and Jay should be here any minute now, I trust that you won't get in any trouble before they get here?"

Gulping down a mouth full of saliva, I shakily reply while sweat rolls down my brow and drips onto my chest.

"A-Ah y-yeah, no trouble here, nothi-nothing at all. Hahaha..."

Her resulting smile shone brighter than the sun, it's warmth far surpassing anything that came before it, despite looking the exact same as every other time she had smiled at me in that manner. Then, as her smile faded into wondrous memory, she was gone.

Plopping myself onto the grassy carpet, I stared holes into my hands. After a few ponderous moments I covered my face with my grubby little mitts and sighed deeply. Christ, I had it bad, didn't I? Stupid stupid stupid, risking my relationship with Ivy, with my own mother, all because I couldn't keep it in my damn pants. This isn't even the first time something like this has happened either, me wildly falling out of my depth and losing my goddamn f.u.c.k.i.n.g mind. She just has that effect on me, that aura of raw sensuality and s.e.x appeal that drives my newly acquired instincts mad. That drives me to grope and squeeze and even lick and suck if I think I can get away with it at the time.

Except I don't get away with it. I haven't gotten away with it after the first few times, after that, she's always cottoned on to the fact that there's something weird and wrong with me. She never looks at me in shock, or disgust, she just calmly indulges me while remaining in complete utter control the entire time, always getting the last laugh and inflaming my l.u.s.t to greater heights. Goading me on, probably trying to see how bad the damage is.

And I loath myself for it, this bottomless pit that is my libido. This great gnawing beast that stokes the fire in my b.r.e.a.s.t and gives me the courage of a thousand, nay, a million men. I loath the way I lose control of myself, the way I disregard reality in the moment until it all comes crashing back down on me afterward. Already I am only four months old and I understand this basic fact, this central part of the new person I've become. I am a bad son. A son who l.u.s.ts after his mother like a man lost in the desert who suddenly discovers an oasis paradise, no matter what that man does he can't help but take drink after drink. Eventually he'll drown himself in it, that splendid dreamlike paradise, just like I am now.

Hhhaaaggghhhh, don't think about it. Think about something else.

Already I can think of a few topics besides that, that dreadful dreary c.u.mbersome thing. My appearance for one, my abilities as they stand now are another.

Thankfully, Ivy allows some man made objects into our secluded home, if only out of convenience if nothing else. Organic hygiene products, some few electronic devices like a landline phone and a television set, and the item most relevant to my current needs. A mirror, set inside a frame surrounded by exotic and mutated flowers of my mother's own creation.

As has become my ritual for when I needed to run away from my problems, I gaze inside the mirror and see what I usually see. A young lad of what appears to be seven or eight years gazes back at me, his skin a vibrant glowing emerald, his lower body covered in tastefully crafted leaves, eyes a chilling blue, hair appearing as if it was on fire, and the one thing that stuck out the most. The long jagged birthmark on his stomach, on my stomach. A reminder of the man I used to be, the person I can never be again.

I sense myself beginning to mope again and draw my attention to a doorway across the room. The training room, a place where I could go all out at my current strength and not be able to permanently damage anything. I almost sprint inside, ever more eager to take my mind off thinking. So, my powers… where to begin? Perhaps with the simplest thing in my ever expanding tool belt, my pheromones. They're not all that strong, certainly not even anywhere near the mastery my mother shows with hers, but they're mine. With them I can make tiny suggestions and expect most people to follow through with them, that is, if they can justify it to themselves in their head. Something like "Look to the left" is a hell of a lot easier than "Do the robot while n.a.k.e.d".

The more out of place it is for that person to do, the harder I have to work my body to produce more and stronger pheromones. As I am now, there's absolutely no way for me to brainwash or mind control someone without straining myself to the point of bone deep exhaustion and beyond.

As for the other things I can do, there's plant manipulation, which includes genetically modifying plants and ordering them around. The modifications I can make aren't too fantastical, mostly limited to things found in nature, but…

Snapping my fingers, a thick vine peels off the wall, quickly growing thick thorns. Soon after a bright red bulb dotted in white appears on the tip, growing to near human size in around thirty seconds before splitting down the middle, revealing rows of sharp green faux teeth with a wiggling worm like 'tongue' coming from the back of the acid filled mouth.

See head-people? I can make a near sapient real life piranha plant with stuff naturally found in plants around the world. All those teeth? Modified rose thorns. The acid? Stuff already found in carnivorous plants, just beefed up like everything else I can make. The 'tongue' is how it sees and smells things, also taken from plants. Because plants are bullshit anyway, It doesn't matter if I can't make shit up from nothing yet, I can just find something almost as good naturally.

Now the drawback with this kind of this thing is I can't just make huge sweeping changes like this in a respectable time frame normally, the only reason this didn't take hours is because the training room is packed to the brim with stored nutrients to accelerate plant growth, and to keep the things I make alive. If I wanted to make this out in the real world I'd have to increase how large the roots and leaves are, and be prepared to wait a good while for my minions to grow. The more severe the modification, the longer it takes to make and the more nutrients they require.

Now, while this last one doesn't sound that amazing compared to the other things I can do, I hear plants sort of… 'speak' for a lack of a better term. They don't 'talk' through sounds, or motion, or even pheromones. It's a deeper, almost magical connection, the shine of their combined overwhelming will telling me the want and whim of a thousand thousand different plants, each offering suggestions and advice on how to best help them through their limited perspectives.

Honestly, I can see why mom is so insistent on the rights of plants. When you can 'talk' to them, listen to their problems, feel their suffering through the connection, no matter how faint, I'd probably be pissed if I saw someone stomp all over a single flower, much less an entire forest or what have you. It's like seeing some prick stomp a kitten to death, a stupid, not at all sentient kitten. But it's still a kitten getting hurt in front of you, how would that make you feel?

As I think to myself, I guide and order the various plants in the room around, vines twist and snake through the air like eastern dragons, grass grows wildly, alternating between a soft silky carpet, and a field of deadly spikes. Some plants I even form from what seems to be nothing, in reality just random miscellaneous seeds changed into the currently desired plant. And with a stray thought every surface of the room is covered in flowers of every species I could think of, and even some I couldn't.

Finally, soaked in sweat and panting in exhaustion, I lay down on the soft grass. Moments like this make me feel alive, they fill me with a kind of energy nothing else can. Without even having to ask, a stray vine sn.a.k.e.d out of the room and across the house, into the only room absent of any foliage. It grabs a few towels and a large bucket of water that it filled, bringing the back to the training room. Then it dunked the towel in the cool water and got to work on wiping all over my body.

"Ooohhh that's nice."

It's times like this that remind me that I've hit the superpower lottery. Sure, I'm no superman, but I have no major weaknesses other than the cold and fire, but most people with powers are vulnerable to those in some way. I'm probably immune to most poisons, considering the fact that I'm a plant person, but I'm sure as hell not going to test it out unless I really need to.

I lay sprawled spread eagle on the comforting grass until Auntie and Uncle arrive thirty minutes later, the roaring of a large vehicle alerting me to their arrival.

Initially I'm unconcerned, they arrive in getaway vehicles like this whenever some harebrained scheme doesn't work out and they manage to slip away from Batd.i.c.k, but this time my concern is raised when the vehicle doesn't turn off and I hear the front door slam open. By the time the frantic stomping reaches the training room I'm already upright, backing away from the door while my chlorophyll filled minions crowded around the entrance.

I needn't have bothered, Harley came in looking battered, her clothes torn and her skin slightly bruised. Even in her battered state she was able to flip and slide past any defense I could have constructed, and before I could blink I was held in a death grip and she was sprinting back out of the room. I could sense my minions trying to follow before I sent an order for them to fall back, then I looked at Harley's face, only to be met with a face filled with fright.

"Auntie, what's going on!? Where are we going!?"

Harley looks down at me as we swiftly exit the house, giving me a view of the outside world for the first time in this new life, Ivy too paranoid to allow me so much as a glimpse outside a window, perhaps fearful someone would see me. What I see isn't too surprising, an apartment building in a shitty neighborhood with boarded up windows, the only lights coming from the building shining from the bottom floor which I lived on.

As we enter the back of a sleek black van and sit down on some rather comfy seats, my ass planted firmly in her lap, she finally answers me with a whisper.

"A bad evil man found out where you live sweetness. Red- Ivy… let it slip that you… existed, in a moment of… passion. She was mad, steaming, she wanted to make the bad guy angry."

She kissed me on the top of my head and snuggled me deeper before continuing.

"I… I'm sorry cutie, she's been put in Arkham."

In that moment it feels like my heart drops all the way to my feet, sweat starts to form on my brow as I start to breath faster and deeper, trying to stay calm. Harley's solemn voice fades as my vision goes red and starts to blur with unshed tears.

"W-What!? How- Why did this-"

My panicked exclamation is cut off by the sound of a loud thunderous roar coming from behind us, the screeching of tires sounding out, echoing in the quiet streets of Gothham. Auntie freezes up, her face screwing up with worry before she yells loudly up to the front seat.

"We have to go fastah Mistah J!"

Uncle's exhausted voice comes from the front seat, filled with a sense of defeat, with frustration and anger.

"I'm already going as fast as this hunk of junk can! It can't go any faster!"

Harley looks ready to break out into wild sobs, only holding herself back because she's in my presence.

"I-It's going to be okay puddin, we'll get out of this, mean ol' Batman isn't going to get his hands on you!"

And then the back tires pop, the screech of metal on pavement announcing their loss for all to hear. Moments later what looks like a harpoon spears through the back doors, and with a lurch the van slows down immensely. The ensuing tug of war ends with the van's defeat, the engine unable to stand up to the over engineered might of what I presume to be the Batmobile. Silence follows while Harley sits me gently down on the seat and she stands up, preparing her hammer for a confrontation.

She moves slowly to the door s and opens them, peering out into the dark street and at the intimidating form of a silent Batmobile. Suddenly, a pair of dark hands grabs her from above, dragging her away screaming onto the car roof! I hear a loud slam come from above, a slight indent appearing in the metal roof. Joker looks back at you, sadness filling his eyes.

"When I tell you to run, run. Okay kid?"

I just nod at him, my eyes stinging from the tears that begin to fall down my cheeks. Uncle Jay gets out of the car, shouting and hollering.

"Come out Bats! I know you're around! You can't hide in the dark forever!"

I hear a whoosh from outside, followed by the mad laughter of my uncle. I hear the sound of gloved fists pounding against flesh, pained wheezing following after each blow.

"GO! RUN! DON'T LOOK BA-gagh!"

I do as he says and try to run out of the back of the van, only to run straight into firm muscled chest and fall backwards onto my ass. I look up slowly, and see the figure that would feature prominently in my nightmares for the rest of my days.

Batman's steely gaze meets mine, his five o' clock shadow the only indication of his humanity. His face softens slightly as he reaches down towards me, but, I crawl backwards frantically until my back hits the cool metal of the van. Tears stream down my cheeks as my mind goes from panic into full-blown hysteria. He comes closer, and closer, and closer.

"N-NO! S-STAY AWAY! GO AWAY!"

When he comes close to me and an outstretched hand grabs my arm, my eyes roll into the back of my head, fear overwhelming me and knocking me unconscious.

The next time I would wake up, would mark the beginning of the rest of my life.