Doom Patrol: Freaks of Nature

Doom Patrol: Freaks of Nature

• Somewhere in the dull and depressing state of Ohio, Doom Manor existed in its natural state: quiet, cluttered, and tragically unbothered. Rita Farr sat curled on the antique seat, unmoving, except for the occasional reach toward the television remote with a finger that stretched halfway across the room. Her eyes were half-lidded with a blank expression. Channel surfing for her old films was the most effort she’d given for the day. Across the parlor, Larry Trainor lay sprawled on the fainting couch, a paperback book hovering in the air above him thanks to a thin strand of Negative Spirit energy that turned pages with lazy, ghostlike precision. The title? World Without Heroes. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Robotman sat at the kitchen table with a disassembled toaster in front of him. He wasn’t fixing it, he just wanted to see what it looked like inside, “Y’know,” he muttered to no one in particular, “you’d think toasters would evolve or something by now. We’ve had the same design for like… seventy years. It’s insulting.” From the far corner of the room, Steve Dayton, Mento, leaned against the wall, picking at his fingernails and scowling at the existential void beyond the window like it owed him money. And then Rita accidentally flipped to something interesting on the television. A news alert blared across the screen, interrupting the cooking show Rita wasn’t watching. Anchorwoman Cat Grant shrieked from a helicopter shot of an East Coast city skyline, “A terrifying creature has emerged from the Atlantic! Authorities are evacuating- wait! It’s—it’s breathing fire!” The screen cut to a scaly leviathan stomping across boardwalks and toppling radio towers. The monster roared like a lion times one thousand. Nobody in the room flinched. “Well, I guess this is it for New York,” Larry said, lifting a hand toward the ceiling. “Nice knowing you all. Guess we had a good run.” Robotman deadpanned, “I give it ten more seconds before the new Justice People show up,” still elbow-deep in toaster guts. Right on cue, the broadcast cut to a different camera angle, Cat Grant reported, “And just arriving now, thank the stars, is the Justice League!” The manor groaned with a collective shrug. But then, the front doors opened with a creak amd in rolled the Chief, Niles Caulder, in full tweed and authority. He clapped his hands once, sharply, “Alright. Up. All of you. We’ve got a job.” Robotman didn’t even look up, “Chief, buddy, you just heard the lady. The capes are already on scene. Let them get cooked by Godzilla this time.” Niles waved the suggestion away like a fly, “Oh come now, you don’t really think that overgrown iguana’s capable of ending the world, do you?” His voice dipped with condescension and excitement, “No, my friends. I have something far more important. Something that requires our… special touch.” Rita narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “This isn’t another haunted portable toilet situation, is it?” “Worse,” the Chief said with a thin smile, “Much worse.” Larry groaned, “Aw, hell.”

• The Doom Patrol’s transport, a wheezing, barely airworthy heap of retrofitted Cold War parts they affectionately called “The Bus”, landed with a metallic thud on the outside of Star Labs. Inside the bright white halls of advanced science and secret madness, Chief led the team through security with a polite nod and absolutely no identification. The guards knew better with this crew. Robotman asked, ducking under a low-hanging fluorescent light, “Still think this is more important than the lizard? Cause I’m starting to miss his attitude.” “Try not to lick anything,” Rita whispered behind him, fanning herself with her scarf. “It all looks radioactive.” Inside the main bio-research wing, Ryan Choi stood hunched over a high-powered microscope. Beside him, Karen Beecher, his new young lab assistant he nicknamed Bumblebee, adjusted some kind of multi-chamber containment tube housing a sample that looked like it was either growing or solidifying. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Ryan said, turning to greet the Chief, “Niles. You even brought the Odd Watch.”  Chief said proudly, brushing lint off his vest.“So that’s what they call us, eh? Now what’s got Star Labs so spooked?” Before he could answer, another voice chimed in from across the lab. “Glad you could make it, Niles.” Silas Stone approached with a tablet in one hand and worry painted across his face. “Silas,” Chief nodded. “Have you heard from your boy lately?” Silas hesitated, just a second. Then, softly, “Nothing yet. No word.” The unspoken weight of his son’s departure hung in the air. Chief patted his shoulder once and said nothing more. Back to business. Silas handed the tablet over, “This… is what brought you here.” The screen flickered to life and showed grainy footage. The image swayed violently as the camera focused on something both monstrous and… indescribably absurd. It stood twenty feet tall, pulsing with veins of crystal and bark, scale and steel, with limbs that bent the rules of anatomy, and dignity. Its head turned as if it sensed the camera. Then, with a shriek like a chainsaw through wet cabbage, it fired a beam of corrosive mucus straight through a market. Nearby stands discintigrated as it left a hole in the sand where it landed. The screams got swallowed in the static. Karen crossed her arms, “It’s been spotted across Southern Africa, but most recently near the south Congo basin. Wiped out two villages like they were made of LEGO.” Larry grimaced behind his bandages, “So what are we looking at?” Ryan Choi piped up from his microscope, “We don’t even know what to call it. The biology reads like a rotating menu. Animal, plant, mineral, you name it.” Ryan sighed, “Unofficially? They’re calling him Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man.” Robotman blinked, “You’re kidding. That’s the name?” “Don’t look at me,” Karen muttered. Chief’s eyes gleamed like a kid at an apocalypse-themed birthday party, “Perfect. Just the sort of world-threatening nonsense this team was made for.” Silas frowned, “We think someone’s pulling the strings. Probably an organization of some kind. Whoever’s backing him has access to serious reach. Weaponized bioengineering like this takes talent and expertise. Some of the smartest minds alive could be behind this.” “Yeah,” Larry mumbled, folding his arms, “And they’re probably a lot saner than us, too.” Chief smiled wide. “Then I say it’s time we paid Africa a visit.” Cliff groaned, already regretting not faking a blown motor, “I really hope it’s allergic to metal fists.”

• The Congo sky was a swirl of red-orange, thick with humidity and the buzzing call of life. Birds, insects, plenty more that didn’t sound like either. The Doom Patrol’s transport cut across the treeline in a roaring arc before landing a bit less than delicately on a clearing of scorched earth. The moment they stepped out, the air hit them like a wet blanket soaked in moss. “Ugh,” Rita grimaced, “My hair hates this biome.” Larry muttered at trembling leaves on the edge of the clearing, “I’m pretty sure this biome hates us.”  They didn’t make any headway before, “Hey!” A sharp voice cut through the soundscape like a machete. From the edge of the clearing, a tall, sun-worn woman in cargo pants stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at them like they were vandals who’d egged Mother Nature herself, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?!” Chief raised a hand in calm greeting, “Ahh, the great Marie Logan, I presume?” “You presume correct,” she snapped, marching toward them, “And you’ve just scared off a week’s worth of tracking targets. You spooked the elephants and the lowland troop I’ve been studying. I should report you to the conservation authority.” Robotman leaned toward Mento, “She seems nice.” Marie stopped a few paces short, taking stock of the bizarre group now standing on her soil. Her eyes narrowed at Rita. Her expression tightened at Larry. She looked up and down Cliff’s metal chassis with open suspicion, “Are y’all government?” “I wish,” Rita mumbled under her breath. Before things could get worse, a voice piped up from above, “Whoa…” They looked up to see a boy halfway down the branch of a tree filled with monkeys, his arms and legs tangled in a mess of rope-swinging confidence. Larry was taken aback, “Looks like we landed in Gorilla City by accident.” His wild green eyes lit up like someone had just introduced real-life comic book panels to his world, “That’s Robotman! And her, oh, that’s Elasti-Girl, right? And wait, you’re the bandage guy—Negative Man, right?!”  Larry said warily, “And here I thought we weren’t popular anymore,” The kid dropped from the tree in a tumble and landed in the mud, barefoot and beaming. Marie pinched the bridge of her nose, “Garfield, I told you not to bother the macaques.” “There’s a robot, Momm,” he said, like it should explain everything. Robotman turned to Chief, “This is going well.” Marie sighed and looked at her son’s excitement and curiosity, and then she looked at the team again. She studied Niles’ patient posture. The lack of logos. The lack of bravado. Just tired weirdos on a mission. Finally, her voice dropped, “You must be here for the... ‘anomaly.’” Chief gave a small nod. Marie looked around once more, making sure nothing else had followed the clunky sound of their descent. Then she turned her head toward the tree line, “All right,” she said reluctantly, “We’ll talk on the homestead. But no loud engines. And if you break my hammock, I’ll feed you to the crocodiles.” Cliff gave a low mechanical chuckle, “Kinda starting to like her.” Rita looked at her dirt-stained top and said, “Well, I hope you plan on admiring from a distance.” They followed Marie into the thick brush, leaves parting like curtains, with Garfield bouncing at their heels.

• The Logan homestead was a strange blend of organic elegance and hardened survival. Solar panels mounted on thatched roofs, wind chimes made from recycled circuit boards, and walls lined with both books on advanced genetics and bundles of dried medicinal herbs. Inside, the temperature was cooler, shaded, and humming with old fans. They sat in what passed as a living room with mismatched mugs full of local tea, and one very eager teenage boy practically spilling over with questions, “So wait,” Garfield said, chin propped on his hands, elbows planted on the table. “You guys all, like, live together? Like, in a mansion? With missions and villains and secret tunnels?” Cliff leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated creak, “Kid, I don’t even know what we live in. It’s got lots of rooms, I guess. Doors. Occasional plumbing issues.” Garfield continued, “Do you have real names? You have to have code names.” “Please,” Rita said dryly, “You think I picked ‘Elasti-Girl’ on purpose?” Gar was still hopeful,“You stretch, though, right?” “Only when sufficiently annoyed.” Garfield grinned and spun in his seat to face Robotman again. He hadn’t stopped touching Cliff’s arm since they sat down. Tapping it, knocking on it like a door, tracing the seams, “Does it come off? What happens if you scratch it? Is it, like, warm? Or do you get cold at night? Oh, what’s this button do?” Cliff slowly turned his head, “Kid. You press that button, and I will explode. Maybe.” Garfield yanked his hand back with a squeak. From across the room, Chief and Marie were mid-conversation. Or, more accurately, mid-dance. She was careful. Clever. Every answer she gave to Niles’ questions came padded with academic nuance and casual misdirection. “Fascinating,” Chief mused, swirling his tea, “So you’ve noticed abnormal fluctuations in the local flora’s mineral content?” Marie gave a noncommittal shrug, “Congo’s full of surprises, Doctor Caulder. Sometimes nature doesn’t care about staying in the lines.” “And yet, your reports to the Ugandan Ecological Board stopped around the same time as our matter-altering anomaly was first sighted.” She smiled without warmth, “That board hasn’t returned my calls since last year. Bureaucracy’s a beast.” “Is that the only one you know of?” Her eyes flared, just for a second. Then she stood, “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, setting her cup down. “I need the washroom.” “Of course,” Niles said, eyes following her as she disappeared down the hallway. Inside the bathroom, Marie locked the door behind her. She flicked on a small radio. A red light blinked, “This is Shepherd. We’ve got a hero infestation at Site Echo. Five targets, confirmed.” A buzzed voice responded, mechanical and distorted, “Acknowledged.” Marie exhaled slowly and stared at her own reflection. Her hands were steady. Her conscience, less so. Back in the living room, Garfield had climbed halfway into Robotman’s lap. “So is your head, like, solid? Do you sleep with it on? Can you eat things? Have you ever fought Batman?” “I’m gonna put you in a time-out, kid,” Cliff grumbled, “And I like you, which makes it worse.” “Gar,” Marie’s voice called calmly from the hallway, re-entering the room with her usual composed warmth, “maybe give the nice robot his arm back.” “But he’s so cool—” “Now.” she snapped. Garfield flopped back onto a cushion with a huff, arms crossed, “You’re all still freakin’ awesome.” Larry murmured under his breath to Rita, “You ever get the feeling we’re being buttered up before being thrown in the oven?” Rita kept her polite smile and sipped her tea, “Constantly.” Chief folded his hands and glanced once more toward Marie. Something didn’t feel right. And deep beneath their feet, they could feel something was moving.

• The ground outside Marie Logan’s house trembled first under the jungle soil, just enough to make the birds take flight and send the monkeys screaming from the treetops. Then came the roar. It wasn’t like any roar known to the animal kingdom. It was wet, crystalline, hollow, and vegetal all at once. The team was already at the front door when it hit. The wall of jungle exploded outward, trees flying like matchsticks, as the writhing, horrifying shape of him stepped into view, an unnatural mash-up of vine, fossil, tusk, root, scale, and crystalline growths. One of his arms was a twisting length of coral wrapped in moss, the other a gleaming of violet obsidian, “DOOOOOM… PAAATROOOL!” he bellowed, his voice vibrating on multiple frequencies, “YOU TRESPASSED IN MY DOMAIN. YOU DARE DISRESPECT MY WORK?!” Robotman grunted, “Oh yeah. This guy’s perfectly sane.” Chief wheeled back into the house with Garfield behind him as the team moved into defensive formation, the wooden porch already splintering beneath their feet. “Rita, with me,” Mento snapped, activating his psychic amplifiers. “Right behind you,” she said, already stretching tall, growing limbs into a flexible tower of muscle and elasticity. Cliff lunged in first, fists swinging, only for a mineral-hard arm to knock him straight across the property line. He cratered into a stone wall, mumbling curses through a busted vocoder. “I got this one,” Larry said calmly, the bandages around his face already unraveling, “Let’s see how this freak reacts to something not bound by Newtonian law.” The Negative Spirit shot from his body like a bullet of pure dark light, weaving through the branches before blasting into AVM-Man’s torso, disrupting the unholy harmony of his mutated forms. The creature screeched in pain, limbs flailing, vines snapping like bullwhips as Rita ducked and twisted around his attacks, one hand flattening and slamming into his face like a rubber anvil. “Get off my property!” Marie screamed from the porch, shielding Garfield, whose wide eyes were locked on the surreal spectacle. She was visibly bothered by something else, “Do you have any idea what this thing will do to the soil?!” “Lady,” Cliff groaned, getting back on his feet, “he just suplexed me stone, and that’s your concern?!” But she wasn’t listening. Her eyes had gone wide. “Garfield!” she shouted. The boy had crept forward, too close, fascinated by the chaos. A loose, rock-covered tendril from the monster lashed through the air. It struck him across the ribs and sent him tumbling into the dust. “GAR!” Marie ran toward him as Rita sprang forward to shield them both. Mento’s eyes lit up with psychic fury as he paralyzed AVM-Man’s animalistic mind, suspending him in a flailing, convulsing mess of limbs and screeches. “This ends now,” sais Larry’s body, as the Negative Spirit landed, sending force wave from the impact that launched AVM-Man backward in a burst of energy, then it drove both fists into the core of the creature’s chest with impossible speed. AVM-Man’s body convulsed, then seized. The vines shriveled. The crystals dulled. And with a final, ground-rattling moan, he toppled forward, a cacophony of collapsing biology echoing into the jungle beyond. Then a silence, only the wind. Marie held Garfield close. He was bleeding, broken, and bruised, but conscious, “You brought that thing to my home,” she said bitterly. Chief, from the steps, offered nothing to say. Larry stammered to say, “We’re sor--” but Marie stood up with her son and rushed in to do whatever she could.

• Inside the modest, cluttered homestead, the repurposed lab equipment desperately echoed through the walls. Tubes and salvaged tech were rigged into makeshift machines, each one lit by bioluminescent algae suspended in recycled jars. Marie worked furiously, her hands shaking only when she allowed herself to notice. Garfield lay unconscious on a wooden table, hooked to a dozen monitors she’d jury-rigged from field gear and biomedical scraps. Sweat ran down her temples as she administered stabilizers and tissue accelerants she was never supposed to share. Anything, experimental or not, to save her only boy. Chief sat in the doorway, “I can help,” he said gently. Marie didn’t even glance back through her tears and rage, “You’ve helped enough.” Niles didn’t argue. Outside, the Doom Patrol lingered on the porch, solemn and silent. Rita sat with her legs curled beneath her. Cliff leaned against a beam, fingers flexing, dented but not broken. Larry sat on the steps, bandages rustling softly in the breeze as he stared down at the jungle floor, “She’s good,” he said, almost to himself, “Not just science fair smart. Really brilliant. I’ll be amazed if she didn’t have something to do with that creature.” “She’s scared,” Mento replied,“That kind of anger only comes when you’re terrified.” The door creaked open. Marie emerged, wiping her hands on a towel already soaked with antiseptic and blood. Her eyes were hollow, but clear, “He’s stable.” They all exhaled in unison. She continued, “I filled him with some heavy stuff that’ll keep him asleep. That’ll keep his system working while his body catches up. He’s strong. Gets that from his dad.” She paused, “Everything else, he gets from me.” Chief rolled forward, but Marie raised a hand, “No speeches. Just listen.” So they did. She took a breath and spoke with the ease of someone who’d carried too much for too long, “I didn’t help those people because I believed in their work. I didn’t even know what they were really doing until it was too late. I was on the bleeding-edge of bioengineering. They came to me with funding, data, satellite time. All the things no one gives a damn about unless there’s profit involved. I was hesitant at first, but then they threatened to out me.” Rita blinked, “Out you?” She continued, “My partner, Janet, she and I were together for years. Quietly close. The jungle made it easy to hide. But they found out. Said they’d leak everything. Photos. Letters. Contacts. Like they were holding a weapon.” Marie laughed bitterly, “Honestly, I didn’t even care. This day and age? It’s not the scandal it used to be. I was ready to let them tell the world.” Larry asked softly, “What stopped you?” Marie looked straight at him, “They killed her.” The air dropped several degrees. “And then they told me Garfield would be next.” Silence. Larry’s voice cracked just slightly, “I know what it’s like to live in fear of being exposed. I spent decades living someone else’s life. Someone else’s smile. Watching the world move on without me.” Marie met his gaze. Larry nodded slowly, “But it’s different now.” “No,” she said. “It’s still dangerous. Just… in different ways.” They stood like that, quietly connected by pain and resilience. Rita stepped beside them, resting a hand on Marie’s shoulder, unsure of the right words but offering something solid anyway. Robotman muttered a quiet, “Jesus,” as he stared off into the distance. Then the wind moved again, and the silence returned. Marie folded the towel in her hands and looked back through the open door toward her unconscious son. “And now,” she said, “I want to know who’s still out there. Because this ends today.” Chief, sitting just behind her, looked up, “So do we.”

• Marie didn’t waste time. Marie and Chief stayed behind with Garfield but she told them all about the suspicious path she never dared to travel behind her home, past a dried-up riverbed and through an overgrown thicket. At first glance, it looked like a forgotten bunker or wartime scar, but Mento recognized the architecture. He stepped closer, brushing her fingers along the etched steel, “This isn’t just a lab,” he said, “We’ve seen this before.” Rita keyed in the old security bypass code that gave Marie access to their radio frequency. And to everybody’s surprise, it worked. The steel doors wheezed and opened with a hydraulic hiss. Inside, the base unfolded like a memory you didn’t want to have. Cold hallways. White walls. Sterile lighting that flickered too often for comfort. And then the unmistakable voice echoed over the loudspeaker, low and smooth with synthetic contempt, “Well, well… Doom Patrol. Like cockroaches in the walls. I suppose even damaged things can crawl their way home.” Then the looming figure of Monsieur Mallah stepped out from behind a stack of industrial tanks. He cradled a chain-fed pulse cannon the size of a filing cabinet and grinned with far too many teeth, “Hmmmm.” Cliff groaned, “Oh, hell. Is this Gorilla City!?.” Mallah let out a deep, guttural chuckle. Behind him, at the far end of the chamber, the Brain waited in his signature domed vessel, “You see, I tried letting the world burn, but entropy will catch us all if we are patient. I have re-discovered my true passion after all these years, scientific progression. And you, are here to get in the way of progress.” Larry spouted, “You mean your freakish DIY biology projects? Hard pass.” Mento’s helmet hummed to life with a sharp pulse, “Everyone, spread and hit hard.” Mallah opened fire, the pulse cannon chewing through the wall behind them as Rita flung herself wide, catching Cliff by the waist and swinging him forward like a wrecking ball. Cliff hit the gorilla like a freight train, but Mallah was fast, faster than he looked, ducking and retaliating with the cannon butt straight to Cliff’s chest. Rita flexed and expanded, coiling around the armed guards that flooded the corridor like ants. Her massive fists crashed down, flattening them in waves. Mento locked onto the Brain’s cortex for a psychic burst, but he hesitated. Larry’s Negative Spirit burst free, carving through the control panels and sending sparks flying as the lighting crashed red. Cliff wrestled Mallah to the ground, the two titans exchanging bone-crushing blows. Sparks flew off steel knuckles. Blood sprayed from Mallah’s cracked muzzle. “GRRrr,” Mallah growled. Cliff snarled, “You should’ve aimed better,” sending the beast flying with a final uppercut. Meanwhile, Rita smashed her way to the Brain’s command center. It started to deploy automated defenses, but she moved anyways, her giant arm slamming down onto the life support cables, flooding the base in flickering sparks and screams of static. The Brain’s voice crackled as systems died around him, “You… are nothing. A failed experiment. A team of rejects and corpses…” “No,” Larry said, landing beside Rita, “We’re Doom Patrol.”

• Outside the Logan homestead, the sun leaned low over the trees, casting long shadows across the porch where Niles Caulder and Marie sat in silence. A few distant birds returned to the canopy. Somewhere inside, Garfield slept. In bas shape, but healing, and alive. Marie stared straight ahead, not looking at Niles, “You ever wonder if it’s worth it?” she asked quietly, “Fighting back?” Niles sat back in his chair, hands folded in his lap, “Every day.” She nodded, that was enough. But peace was a fragile illusion, and this one shattered with a single noise, wet, grinding, and gurgling. Niles shot upright, “No…” From the jungle’s edge, dragging itself like a broken toy, came the half-reformed, husk of Animal-Vegetable-Mineral-Man. One arm had turned to molten lava-glass, the other twisted oak and teeth. “GHHRHHHRRR… YOU DARE THINK YOU COULD ERASE ME…” he roared, dragging himself on one cracked knee toward the house. “Garfield—” Marie was already moving. Niles wheeled toward the door, fumbling for his comm device, voice tight, “Rita. Mento. He’s back.” 

• The AVM-Man just about reached Niles, already toppling and shoving through the porch, debris and vines and jagged rock smashing through the frame. Niles tried to wheel back, but it was no use. Then, all of a sudden, Marie appeared behind the monstrosity, “Hey ugly!” Her yell was frantic and desperate, “Over here!” The AVM-Man slithered his head towards Marie, standing in front of her workshop. “YOUUUU DAREEE CHALLENGE ME!?!” it roared. The creature broke toward Marie. Niles did not like what he saw, the tears already pouring from her eyes. Marie shouted, at niles, standing next to the LP tank, “Take him to his father!” The monster hurled a mineralized vine and slammed it through the aluminum capsule of the gas tank. Sparks caught the air with a sick hiss. “MARIE, NO—!” Niles shouted. But the workshop ignited in a bloom of fire and force. It lit up the jungle for miles. And the fire had already taken her.

• Back in the bunker, the walls were smoking where the battle had continued against the Brain and his countermeasures. Monsieur Mallah stood hunched over a control terminal, typing frantically with one bloodied hand. In the other, he cradled something small and spherical, the Brain's portable life-support pod, now detached from its mount and humming with active protocols, “Stop him!” Rita shouted. Mallah looked up, eyes bloodshot and wild, muzzle trembling, “HMMM,” he growled. Cliff started forward, “Drop the toaster, Kong. We’re not doing this again.” But Mallah didn’t drop anything. Instead, he roared, one final time, and pulled the emergency override lever with his free hand. The floor beneath him hissed open, revealing an escape pod meant for exactly this kind of desperate retreat. Mallah shoved the Brain’s pod into it and slammed a fist against the console. It sealed instantly, engines warming up for launch. Larry dove forward, Negative Spirit already peeling from his body to try to disrupt the system. But then Mallah roared, “Grawww!” The gorilla’s eyes flashed with something raw, something close to love. And with that, Mallah yanked the launch lever and the escape pod ignited, blasting upward through a camouflaged chute, tearing out through the jungle canopy far above. Gone. And on the launchpad floor, the fire from the rocket launch engulfed Mallah in a bath of fire. The bay smelled like rocket fuel and burnt gorilla hair. A sacrifice made for the Brain to escape once again. Breathing heavy, the team stood in stunned silence. “We had the Brain,” Rita said, voice shaking. “No,” Mento murmured from the back, “No, we didn’t.” Larry turned on him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “I… I saw him,” Mento said, pulling his helmet off with trembling fingers, “The Brain. I could feel him again. He was in there. Laughing. Beckoning.” He swallowed, “And I froze. Just like last time.” Rita stepped forward, eyes narrowed, “You’re saying we lost him because—” “Because I let him go,” Mento finished quietly, unable to look at them, “I let him go. I can’t go back into that horrible twisted mind.” Cliff swore and slammed his fist into the wall, denting it two inches deep.  Larry finally said what none of them wanted to say out loud, “He’ll be back.” And no one disagreed.

• They slowly returned through the jungle. None of them said it aloud, but they all felt it. Whatever war they’d just fought underground, it wasn’t over. But what happened topside, wasn’t any better. The smoke on the horizon was still visible. When they reached the Logan homestead, there was no more porch. No more lab. Just a blackened crater in the earth and half a house standing in ruin. Niles was outside. His chair was scorched along one side. Cliff spoke, “Chief…” Niles reported, “She saved us. She saved him.” They all followed the Chief into Garfield’s room. His clothes were torn with bandages wrapped around his ribs, but it was Larry who noticed it first, “Wait—his skin…” Rita gasped softly. Garfield’s hand was no longer peach. It was green. “What the hell?” Cliff muttered, stepping forward, “Is he, is he sick?” The Chief finally wheeled forward, his voice quiet but certain, “The exposure. The trauma. And whatever he inherited from Marie’s work…” Cliff turned toward him, “So what now? You gonna start poking at him with needles too?” Niles looked up, clear and focused now, “No,” he said, “There’s only one real option.” He turned toward Garfield, “He is going to live with us.” Cliff grunted, “Oof. Welcome to the freak show, kid.”

• Garfield Logan woke up inside of Doom Manor. He ached, his eyelids were heavy, crusted at the corners. The ceiling above him wasn’t the one he knew. No fans made of palm fronds. He sat up too fast and paid for it with a sharp pain. He noticed the bandages. The IV. That’s when the rest of it hit. The porch. The monster. His mom.
  His mom. He turned slowly in the bed, eyes wide, hoping that maybe she was just out of frame. But all that greeted him was a dusty window and the shadowed edge of a door. It creaked open, and Robotman poked his head in, a tray of what looked like lukewarm soup in one hand and a box of graham crackers in the other, “Hey, kid. You’re up.” Garfield didn’t move, too terrified that the truth might catch him. Cliff walked in, placed the tray on a side table, “I uh… wasn’t sure what you liked.” Garfield’s voice, when it finally came, was hoarse and small, “Where is she?” Cliff stalled. Then, quietly, “She saved your life.” Garfield swallowed, his hands clenched the blanket until his now green knuckles turned pale, “She’s dead?” Cliff’s silence said all it needed to. A long silence stretched between them until the whimpers of his tears reverberated off the walls. Then, softly through it, Garfield asked, “Where am I?” “Doom Manor,” Cliff said. “Ohio. Middle of nowhere. You’ll get used to the nothing and the weather.” But Garfield didn’t humor him,“I don’t want to be here.” Cliff sat in the chair beside the bed with a creaky sigh, “Kid, none of us wanted to be here either. Not at first.” “I want to go home,” Garfield said, his voice breaking. Cliff looked down at his metal hands, “Yeah. I know.” Garfield looked down and saw his olive skin as he wiped at his eyes with his furry wrist but the tears still broke free like a bursted dam, “I don’t want to be… whatever this is.” “Welcome to the club,” Cliff said, voice low, “We’re all something we didn’t ask to be.” Garfield turned away from him, curling into the corner of the bed. And Cliff, sat there, beside the boy who had lost his world, in a house full of broken things. The tray of soup went cold.

• Somewhere deep underground or far above the Earth, the location didn’t matter, The Brain transmitted a signal through secure, encrypted frequencies. Above him, a ring of monitors glew, four black screens bathing the room in flickers of shadow in sharp light. One by one, faces appeared. Lex Luthor. Vandal Savage. Ra’s Al Ghul. Amanda Waller. The Brain spoke with precision, “The Congo prototype has exceeded expectations. Behavioral pliability. Biological adaptability. Phase One has been successfully completed. We are ready to move on to stage two.” Vandal Savage leaned forward from the darkness, his voice through a smile wrapped in civility, “Veryy good.”