Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You would be surprised what a body does to stay alive.” The doctor said to his assistant while they dragged the body onto the embalming table. He fixed the voice recorder attached to his lab coat's side. 

The assistants fastened leather straps around the pale wrists and ankles. The straps and the table were stained with a dark brown flaking substance. The body did not resist as chains hooked onto the underside of both ends, lifting it to the waistline of the Doctor.

“Subject 43004, Caucasian 21-year-old Male, 5’7.” The doctor recited while tucking his gloves under the sleeves and peering at the subject. “Hmm, scar tissue over right pectorals, abdomen, well- Around 30% of the skin surface is scar tissue. Strange, not one indicates the cause of death. ” The doctor leaned putting his hand underneath the body’s head, feeling the cranium. His hand traced over it. “No indentations or lacerations.” The doctor’s hand rested on the body’s cheek, it rested in his palm peacefully.

“Where did you pick up this one again?” The Doctor called out to his henchmen. The two looked at each other and shrugged, “31st Alley.”

The Doctor sighed, scanning across the body again. In the dip of the elbow were raised dots, He sighed, “Ah, one of those then. You better not mess with the results young man” He tutted while grabbing forceps from his tray and a scalpel in the other. He stretched the skin at the sternum, applying enough tension for the scalpel to split the skin without harming the underlying tissue.

“Bring the specimen.” The Doctor mumbled. The two henchmen scrambled towards the table bringing a jar full of a vibrant green transparent vapor. They watched as the doctor opened the body. By the time they brought it, harsh cuts were made into organs. Fluids seeped out in a mess but the doctor did not care as he twisted the jar open. Immediately the vapor crawled out, and if sucked by a vacuum crawled toward the dead body.

“The specimen has taken to the subject, it seems to…be healing the cuts. How fascinating, I can not describe how it interacts with foreign biology. Oh, look! The flesh there has circulation again.” Before their eyes, the body’s flesh folded in on itself as if a flower closing at dawn. The doctor cackled with bliss, “I wonder what is different about you dear boy.”

And then the doctor fell over, red seeping from the left side of his chest. The henched screamed as the gunshot registered. The scrambled, two blades found themselves in their neck. They fell over silently next to the Doctor.

Talia Al Ghul sniffed as her assassins dragged them away. They did not have to be told to take them away from her sight. She stalked to the body. She peered clinically at the body. “You look like him, in the nose. Not enough though. Take him to the pit, the one the Owls like so much. See if anything comes from it” Her people nodded, cutting the straps.

Bats screeched as uninvited guests hauled the body down into the chambers that held a small pool of writhing green liquid. They casually placed the body on the ground, right at the edge of the pit. The body lay there until a foot kicked it. The movement propelled it down the decline. It landed in the Lazarus pit with a splash. The assassins shivered as whispers rose from the depths. It looked like the pits were squirming and congealing. ḱ̶͇ e̷͎͌e̴̮̒p̶̜̾ ̵̰͋k̷̟̉ẹ̷̒e̸̱͊p̵͓͋ ̵̯̉ķ̶̎ȇ̷̥ě̴̝p̵̰͌ ̵͂  The hairs on their forearms stood up as an electrical charge filled the room. They could taste ozone in between their teeth.

The energy built inside the pits, which were now bubbling madly. The assassins prepared to tackle another madman.

Yet, nothing happened. The charge fell, the bubbling stopped, and a body never crawled out. The assassins left without leaving a stray pebble. 

8 months later

Danny leaned against the door that led into the building from the rooftop. He fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Flicking it a few times a spark flickered and quickly went out. He groaned, placing the cig in his mouth, to have something. He pulled out his flip phone and squinted at a text from his boss. Turns his break was over, rush time baby. He felt the cigarette get crushed between his teeth. “Ugh,” He spat it out, “Fine, ain’t healthy anyway.” He dragged a hand through his black greasy hair and pulled up the address. While walking down the stairs the smell of greasy pizza permeated the air.

“Get your ass on that bike, run like hell.” His boss snapped at him and handed him the pizza box. “Don’t let no one show you trouble, we got a reputation.”

“Yeah, Yeah, Tommy, “Danny replied already out the door, “one with the mafia.”

“Ey! What was that?” Old Tom barked and held up a pizza cutter threateningly.

“Nothing!” Danny scrambled. His bike was some junk with a motor slapped on and enough shitty welding to look like Mary Shelly’s first day at writers' camp. He loved it. It went fast and was loud enough to sound threatening. Well, maybe that was more so how it looked 5 blocks from exploding. It felt like home to him. 

15 minutes pass quickly when you’re not trying to get hit by cars or pedestrians with crowbars. Gotta love Gotham. He parked next to the alley that had piled up trash bags, rearranging them to cover his old lover. The apartment buzzer was broken and had a note, “Kick door twice and push up to open” taped on the wooden frame. He did as instructed and the door creeped open. 

Thankfully the order was only the 3rd floor, so he didn’t have to tempt fate with the elevator. Room 302 was on the right side of the hallway. It was illuminated by flickering lights and water-stained floral wallpaper.

He knocked on the door and yelled, “Pizza! Got an order for… Janus Wicks? Large pepperoni with anchovies?” There wasn’t any response. He knocked on the door again, and to this, it creaked open.

Danny felt dread settle in his stomach, “How inviting.” He stepped in, peering in at the small apartment. He set the pizza down on the counter that was only a few steps away from the door. The kitchen and living room were combined with only a small hallway leading to the left. “Hello? Anyone home? Janus?” He pulled out his phone and dialed 911, just in case. He peaked around the corner.

On the floor was a twitching hand. Danny ran forward towards it, spotting the young woman shaking on the ground. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck.” He pressed call while rolling the woman onto her side.

“Hello? Yes, 302 32nd Street, uh I don’t- Ferris Apartments room 302, please oh god she’s not breathing.” He held a hand to her pulse. She looked into his eyes, they were green. Green like toxic smog, green like pine trees and they looked at him with fear. It’s hard to say what came over him, if he could say anything it would be it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him who moved his hands to support her neck, tilting it so she could see him clearer. It wasn’t him who spoke, “It’s not so scary, just a little sharp prick. You’ll see, it will be okay.”

Janus looked at him with hope. Hope like a little green sprout has with it’s first leaves facing towards the sun. He smiled at her and heard her breath rattle. It was a quiet sound, but not something that he would ever forget.

He sat there, ringing in his ears holding this stranger's body. He stared at her face, her freckles, and her notched eyebrow. She was so young. 

Then he was yanked back by a police officer. He blearily looked at the man who was yelling something at him. The next moments were a blur as he answered questions and paramedics shuffled in, lifting the body onto a stretcher.

“Boy, Name and birthday- Oi, look at me.” Danny stared at the man who was talking to him. “You deaf or something.”

“Uh, no, sorry. Um, Danny Doe.” Danny recited, grabbing for his wallet.

“Doe got it.” The officer wrote something down. “Birthday?”

Danny got flustered, “I don’t know.”

“You joking with me, son? This is not a time to be joking.” The officer snarled.

“Sir- I don’t know.” Danny didn’t say anything more. What else could he say?

“Kid, I’m trying to help you. You’re at the scene of the crime, we need you to cooperate.”

“Wait-Wait hold on, Scene?” Danny shouted back, flabbergasted. “A Crime? I just got her and she was lying there!”

The officer sighed, “No hard feelings kid.” The man grabbed his bicep and yanked him onto the wall. He pinned Danny’s arms and the cold cuffs latched around his wrists. Danny felt his heart beat race and twisted back. The cop fell backward, knocking some pictures off the wall.

“Got a runner!” The officer called and another one came running around the corner.

Danny hissed in, his teeth biting at the air. He cried back, “I didn’t do anything.” The breath was knocked out of him as he was tackled. His head hit the back of the wall. Wow, do things suddenly get muddy with a concussion.

Next thing he knew he was staring at the gray ceiling of an interrogation cell. Alone and cold. Through the door, he could hear them mumble.

“...you mean….amnesia?....fuck’s sake….”