Chapter 439 - My SI Stash #39 - This Venom Inside by Conartist223 (DCXMulticross) (1/2)

-This kind of writing legit gave me Baki vibes, it's some epic stuff! Also if y'all in need of more testerone revving stuff I suggest you check out Shuumatsu no Valkyrie, I can already see Netflix picking this banger up/

Synopsis: ”Out of every one hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back.”― Herac_l_i_tus

”Either I will find a way, or I will make one” -Hannibal Barca

Life is often difficult, but for some it is much more so, especially when surrounded by those who stand above the common rabble. Those who'd rightfully be called gods, and titans, all look downward with their confident smirks and their smug self-satisfaction.

When you are born at the bottom, what can you do? What can anyone do? There is truly only one answer to such a question...

You must Rise!

Rated: ???

Words: 15K

Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/this-venom-inside-dc-comics-multicross-si.877788/ (Conartist223)

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/originals 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

Waking up in a unfamiliar place is often unpleasant, but the moment I opened my eyes I was struck with the meanest headache I've had in my life.

The dull florescent lights and white sheets with beeping machines told me I was in some sort of hospital, but considering the last thing I remembered was getting blown up by some asshat who didn't understand that ”peaceful-protest” doesn't involve blowing yourself and everyone nearby sky-high... that didn't seem too out of place.

But... I didn't feel like I got blown to pieces, and I didn't feel the shrapnel from the mail-box that went up nearby or my car caught in the blast, so unless I was in way better shape than I thought, something about this situation was off.

Sitting up caused the already monstrous throbbing in my head to upgrade to some kaiju-levels of pain, but not being smothered by heavy sheets in an already hot room was practically divine in comparison... and that's when I noticed the major differences.

I was small, and not just vertically, but I was rail-thin and stubby, almost like a child. A quick pass over my face with my fingers confirmed that I wasn't just clean shaven, but felt like I'd never gown a hair on my face at all, and a quick check under my shirt confirmed that I'd lost my muscular torso along with my c_h_e_s_t-hair.

Considering how big the bed was compared to me, I could only guess that I was somehow in the body of a child.

Ok, don't freak out.

Don't freak out.

Ok... maybe a little bit?

I pulled the little nodes off my c_h_e_s_t and head, that were keeping my vitals updated on the machines, and (very carefully) pulled out my IVs in order to finally get out of bed, and finally stand on my own two feet.

The vertigo hit me hard, but passed quickly enough for me to walk to the other side of the room, where a full-length mirror rested, and I finally got a good look at myself. It was basically me as I'd been years ago, white skin (that would likely tan pretty hard), black hair, and blue eyes (though a bit blue-er than they should have been) and the height and build of a thin child... maybe six to ten years old?

The next thing I noticed was my outfit, rather than a simple white or blue set of hospital-pj's, was a drab dark grey jumpsuit with a set of white numbers and letters stitched over the heart.

#B-1092

Huh... I feel like I should know that number for some reason, it certainly didn't ease my headache much to think otherwise.

Before I could get too deep into my own thoughts, the only door was opened enough for a tall, gaunt, and bald man in a similar jumpsuit to come in with a guy in a doctor's coat... and flanked by a guy that seemed to be either cosplaying a prison-guard or this hospital had some serious security measures.

The thin guy seemed familiar, so much so that it made my head feel like it was splitting open trying to recall the nickname I knew everyone called him by, but when he spoke to me in a language I didn't recognize I almost let out a groan of frustration...

Until I suddenly remembered the language in it's entirety. Huh?

It was some dialect of Spanish, but one I'd never remembered before this moment... at least I shouldn't have. I could still remember my German lessons in high-school, I could remember learning Spanish from my Puerto Rican cousins, and I could recall all my favorite poems from Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe in modern English and Old... but I could remember learning to read and speak this strange dialect as well.

So child-body... and child-hood memories that come with it? I can work with that at least.

The thin guy, Zombie as I remember now, asked me how I was feeling in that weird version of Spanish, looking like he was simultaneously about to keel over and legitimately concerned for my well-being, while the doctor looked both nervous (like the druggy kind of nervous) and done with everyone's shit.

The guard was picking his nose like he was trying to tickle his frontal-lobe.

”Better now senor, though I am a bit sore, can you help me back to my cell Zombie?” I asked, with as much child-like innocence I could muster... which wasn't much.

Zombie seemed surprised by my lack of a stutter or nervous fidgeting, which I now remember myself doing since I was old enough to talk, but he honestly seemed too pleased with my recovery to comment on such.

”Of course my friend, you've been in a coma for almost two months, I'd be worried if you didn't feel fatigued.” Zombie's voice was quiet and raspy, but I could tell by the small smirk and the glimmer in his eyes that he was happy I hadn't died when I... fell from a catwalk.

I fell... nearly four stories... and landed on my head in the body of a prepubescent child.

I should have died, or died a second time rather, and yet I was not only alive but fully cognizant and aware of my surroundings.

Well, it would seem I was tougher than I looked in this new body... where ever I was. Maybe even tougher than I'd been as an a_d_u_l_t in my ”past-life” perhaps?

*****

It was a quick matter to be released from the hospital with a note for pain-killers if my headaches didn't stop, and though my body was thin from a month of inactivity, I was able to quickly make my way back to my cell with Zombie's assistance.

Along the way, I became certain of two things:

1. I was inside some kind of prison, and a majority of it was underground.

And 2. This prison was probably the largest in the world, based solely on the number of guards, prisoners and checkpoints between all the cell-blocks.

I was in B-block, which was the second largest, and my cell was on the third floor on a walkway 1,000 cells long, with five more blocks as well. Zombie on the other hand, was a ”working prisoner” due to a background in medicine and what I now understood to be drug creation, and so was permanently held within special cells inside the hospital itself.