Do I have any restrain as a human being? No. the answer is no. Should I even tackle a series that stems from a fandom that I have virtually no experience in? No. The answer is no. But will I do it anyways? Yes. The answer is yes.

So here's a Self-Insert OC story. Halt the pitchforks, halt the lynching.

Let me throw out a few points to 'suade you to stay. Firstly, It's an OC, so the character isn't me. However, I took some aspects of myself to incorporate into the character. If that somehow makes him Stueish. Please smite me on the spot. Truly, I mean that.

I'll do my damnest not to copy past things. I'll be adding a few ideas. There's a few heroes/characters that I'd love to see. So I'm shamelessly admitting I'd like to add them in somehow. On a side note, I believe all actions have reactions, and everything that happens has been led up to it. I'll try to butterfly effect it. Granted, that means I'll have to re-watch the series again.

This leads to my next point, I haven't watched YJ in a few years, I'll obviously do so again for this story's sake. Regarding DC itself. I must painfully admit I haven't read a single comic. All of my DC knowledge stems from the cartoons and animated movies. And... even the life action ones. That being said, I ask for your patience and preemptively ask for your forgiveness.

I'm writing in 1st person perspective as well as rotating to limited omniscient. Mostly because first person writing leads to forced bias in the narration. I'd like you all to have some degree of dramatic irony.

Finally, I'm writing this story due to the hype for the much coveted season 3! I'm excited! Are you? The trailer looked pretty nice!

That covers it!

Alright, someone just sent me 7 reviews worth of full content and context of the DCverse. Not that I'm unappreciative. But there's a time and place. What's silly about it all, is that the information dump came from nowhere. No context, no hello or even review. I don't even know if the person is actually one or some automated message for uncultured swines like myself. Regardless, I'm getting rid of those reviews. They aren't even reviews. PM content if you want. That being said, thanks I guess? I'll make sure to jot this down somewhere. So whoever you are, don't think your time and effort has been in vain. Thanks again!

That covers it Take2!

Seattle, Washington

April 2nd, 2018 01:19 PDT

Boom!

My eyes snap open at the sudden explosion. For what else could it have been? My breathing is heavy, and my forehead is coated in a cold sweat. Guess I wasn't having a pleasant dream anyways.

Bang!

I practically jump from my bed and crash down onto the oaken floorboards. With a groan. I groggily force myself up to my feet. Definitely an explosion. Probably mom now that I think about it.

Zzzt!

I cringe at the sound, my brows narrowing. No chance I'll be able to go back to bed after all of this commotion. Instinctively I shift my gaze towards my clock.

1:21am

Oh dear. She was tinkering in the early morning again. With a heavy sigh I made my way out of my room.

My mom, the source of all of this noise and chaos is a bit of an aspiring inventor/scientist. As such, she spends way more time than acceptable fiddling with her gadgets. It's her passion, and I can respect that. But when it's at 1, in an apartment shared by other tenants.

Well. Needless to say, we've been flirting with the line of eviction for a while now.

I hastily walk down the hallway and round the corner. My eyes first land on the granite counter, or more importantly the oddly constructed contraption laying on said counter.

I peel my eyes from the device to scan the rest of the room.

Our apartment is pretty open concept. With the kitchen at the corner closest to the hallway, the living area beside the large window pane walls and our dining table right beside the front door.

Basically, it's one large room sectioned per function. But, due to its openness it makes noticing absent people all the more prominent. For this instance, my impulsive mother.

"Mom…?" I ask outloud.

Silence, with the exception of sizzling coming from the device is my only response. I sag my shoulders in tired frustration. A sigh escapes my mouth. She's probably on another past-midnight run for supplies or something of the sort.

As to why she decides to go so late? No idea, apparently she knows a guy. I pinch my nose, as I feel my frustration rise. I'm going to get roped in again. Aren't I?

Bzt, bzt, bzt.

My pant leg vibrates, and I plunge my hand into my pocket. I retrieve my phone and view the contact. Mom. Why wouldn't I be roped in. Of course I'd be roped in.

I quickly tap to answer and raise the phone to my ear, "Hey, mom, do you know how late it is?"

"Rodri? Good, good, you're already awake," Mom responds smoothly, ignoring my question with practiced ease.

"Thanks to those explosions coming from your device. Moooom, you promised not to work with your things past midnight."

"Ha ha," Mom laughs nervously before she continues, "well… I've had a bit of inspiration, it just came to me an hour ago. I just had to get at it,"

I bite back from sighing and instead take a deep breath, "I see, so where are you right now?"

"I'm going to my guy at the moment, I called to let you know I'll need you to look over the thing on the counter," Mom says, then as if an afterthought she adds, "in the kitchen! It's the counter in the kitchen,"

I chuckle nervously, only because of the implications her statement holds. If she's specifying counters now, then what has she used the bathroom counter for? I shake myself from the thought and focus on the device before me.

It looks like a cube of scrap metal, with a bit of luminescent wiring surrounding its outer layer as well as running through it. If I'm being honest, it looks like garbage. But I'd never openly disclose that opinion with anyone.

"Right, okay. I'm here now, what do you need me to do?"

"Great, well, It's overheating, so I need you to cool it down wi-" My mom suddenly stops mid sentence.

I flinch at the sheer abruptness of it all before taking the phone away from my ear and viewing the screen. The call just failed on me. Odd. I try recalling her a few times with little success before concluding that she must have came across an area with bad signal. Or maybe her plan got cancelled again.

Whatever the case, it means I still have to deal with the device thingy. She said it was overheating? That doesn't sound too good. I scan over the device again. More closely, I notice buttons on it. Or what looks like a button? For simplicity sake, I'm calling it a button.

In all actuality, looking at the small thing makes me wonder just how it manages to create all of those massive sounds. Overheating? I guess that'll be my go to answer for this.

I tentatively move a finger closer to the device. I feel some heat emitting from it, and decide it's probably best not to find out just how hot it is. The device sizzles quietly, and the wiring glows a faint orange.

How am I supposed to cool this thing down? Water?

I look to my sink, then back to the device, it looks electrical of some kind. I'd probably just end up shocking myself. Water's a no go. I suppose turning on the ac is the best idea I have so far. Looking towards my thermometer only further cements my resolve.

I dutily march over, and turn the air conditioning on. I lower the temperature significantly. I know the effect isn't immediate, but the placebo certainly makes me feel a few chills run through my spine. I decide that's probably all I can really do for the device before heading into my room.

My room is modest in nature, with just my twin size bed shoved to the far end, and a small window giving my view to the marvelous scenery that is other apartment buildings. We're on the seventh floor. I have a small desk and a rather old pc and monitor placed on top of it. A dresser with a select few outfits and a shelf full to the brim of books I haven't touched since at least a decade ago.

I head over to my dresser, and search for a sweater to slip on. It's going to get cold in here. While I'm on it, I also decide to switch out from my pajamas. That way I won't succumb to the temptation of falling asleep. A white tee and some shorts should do. I have a few sweaters to choose from, and hesitate with my decision. The blue one? Red hoodie? How about the beige pullover?

POP zzt-Poof!

I jump at the sound, and quickly pick the hoodie among my selection and dash back into the kitchen. The device is no longer sizzling, but actually on fire. Said fire billows over top the device, licking at the air.

Guess water is my go to option now.

I quickly run towards my sink, purposely avoiding the device. I plug the sink and turn the tap on. As I let the water run, I look for something I can use to carry the failed experiment. It was a bit hot before, but to catch fire now would mean it's heat rose tenfold. Or something like that.

I turn the tap shut after confirming I had enough water to submerge the whole device. Mom's probably going to be a bit bummed out, but given how our granite counter looks like it's splintering. I'm sure she'll understand.

I decide to wrap aluminum around a pair of kitchen mitts. I actually can't explain why, for some reason it just feels like the right thing to do. Aluminum can handle hot stuff after all, why use them in baking?

Regardless, I hastily grab onto the device and turn towards the sink. In that second alone, I feel the device burn through, and it's heat blisters my skin. I bite my tongue hard, tasting the metallic flavour of blood.

Holy hell does that hurt.

The burns.

Tongue too, actually.

I quickly toss the device into the water with a splash and watch in balking astonishment as steam starts to engulf the room. But that's when the first wave of pain rushes through me.

I hear beeping coming from my sink but completely ignore it in favor of staring at my hands. I try to keep them steady, but, they're in agony. I don't cry, but I definitely tear up a lot. This is super painful. I gently pull off the kitchen mitts and whimper when I see the burns. It's like my skin's been peeled off along with the mitts. I start to breath heavy, my panic rising. My hands start to shake, but I don't dare try to move them, leaving them stiff. I crouch down, gently rocking back and forward.

This was a stupid idea. Very stupid. I definitely underestimated the heat, or overestimated the quality of my kitchen mitts. Whatever! Mom's going to be so mad.

She shouldn't have left me to do this! I don't know the slightest idea when it comes to her sciencey stuff. A wave of pain rushes around my hands making me bite my lips. I need to call the hospital or something. Tears run down my face and I sob quietly.

It's going to be so expensive. I shouldn't have touched it! Mom never works with stuff like this. I've never helped her with stuff like this. I know accidents can happen, but she's never had me deal with something possibly dangerous! I'm flattered but also blindsided by her sudden trust in my competence.

The beeping sound finally draws my attention, making my shift my gaze upwards towards the sink. My eyes, despite stinging widen at all of the steam that I'm seeing.

"W-what's happening?" I choke out.

After much coaxing, I force myself onto my feet and sluggishly step towards the sink. The device was beeping furiously from within it's watery confinement.

I squint my eyes and ignore the heat as a peer into the sink. The water's bubbling and an volcanic orange glow radiates under the volatile surface.

D-did mom make a bomb?

My phone vibrates again from my pocket and I painfully struggle to get it out. I tap to answer it without so much as acknowledging the contact, I don't think it had one this time. What I do acknowledge though is the bits of skin I leave behind, grimacing as it stains my phone.

"Rodri! I'm terribly sorry, my phone died!" Mom explains.

Despite the pain I find myself in, I smile. Tonight's been very crazy and outlandish, dealing with something routine, has a surprising relaxing and soothing effect on me.

"N-no, mom, I'm sorry, I messed up," I choke out.

The line goes quiet on the other side, only the sound of static before mom finally speaks up, "Rodri did you put it in water?"

My heart sinks. The way she asks, the way she phrases her question has so much underlying dread that it's practically the focal of her tone. I definitely ruined the device for her. All of her inspiration squandered because I didn't know how to cool it properly.

"I'm sorry,"

"... how long has it been?"

"It was really hot! I burned my hands. I didn't know how to cool it down! I'm sorry mom! Please, please don't be mad!" I beg her to understand.

"I-it's okay. Hey, Rodri? I love you,"

"M-mom?" I stammer.

Loves me? Of course she does? She's told me before, her actions have proven it too. Although, her not being mad is a bit odd. She doesn't normally, but I'd figure this would be a perfectly reasonable opportunity to do so. I must have really scared her for her to react like that.

She doesn't respond to me, but I vaguely hear soft sobs coming from her end, it makes my heart churn and stomach feel sick. She's crying? She must have heard the panic in my voice. I should apologize when she gets home. She can probably get the beeping to stop too.

"Mom," I repeat, "It's not that ba-"

Kaboom!

My eyes widen and I turn to face the sink only for heat and flames to envelop me. It's hot, it's blinding, it burns and then there's nothing.

? ?

April 2nd, 2010 04:38 EDT

I jolt awake sitting up as I do so, gulping large amounts of air. My head feels light. And my vision is swimming. I try to shake the effect off but that proves to only worsen the sensation. I quickly turn to the side and vomit up whatever remains I had for dinner.

It's a gross sight, but surprisingly not the thing that captures my attention. What does is the trash bags, grim stained asphalt and puddles of questionable liquids.

I blink a few times, slowly allowing my eyes to accustom to the darkness before scanning my surroundings. Dark, grim, gothic even. I appear to be in a tight back alley.

The winds gently blow by, chilling me. I hug myself for warmth before quickly realizing I probably just stained my hoodie with my own skin. I groan, only to realize that I'm not in any degree of pain. I do remember my hands being burned beyond recognition and in complete and utter agony. Yet, as it stands, I feel perfectly normal.

Rising my hands for inspection confirms my suspicions. They are normal. That's amazing! Although it definitely raises some questions. Like the obvious: why? Or perhaps the ever subtle: What in the hell happened?

You know what, I'm okay to be left in the dark in that regard, I'm willing to aim smaller, for instance. Where am I!?

I quickly stand up, ignoring the second round of nausea. I stick out my hand for balance and groggily make my way out of the alleyway.

If I was hoping getting a look at the streets would help pinpoint my location, or jog my memory. I was sorely mistaken. The street's empty, with a single car parked across from me. There aren't any pedestrians either. I suppose that makes sense though, given how it's dark out and deathly quiet. It's probably in the middle of the night.

I take a deep breathe, and stare with exasperation as I see myself exhale mist. Winds blow stronger, and now that I'm in the open, they only proceed to chill me more. The winds go through my sweater almost like it were made of holes.

Holy if it isn't freezing! I feel my teeth clatter as I scan down the road. Small vintage and antique buildings line up against the street. Lampposts are placed every 20 or so feet apart, shining their light in a downward cone.

It feels like I'm in the downtown section of a major city. I can conclude that much as in the far distance, I see massive towers scratching over the clouds. I stare up and look at the moon, it's being slightly obstructed by a dark haze. Pollution no doubt, there isn't a single cloud in the navy blue sky.

Was Seattle like that?

Something tells me it's unlikely. I look both ways before crossing the street. I walk towards the car, my only clue as to see where I ended up in. It looks slightly out of date. But given how old the neighborhood looks, the car is practically futuristic in comparison. I brush off that fact and quickly march to the back of the vechicle.

The license plate says Connecticut. My heart sinks and eyes bulge.

Connecticut!?

I'm on the wrong side of the country! The wrong coast! How did I get to Connecticut!? I back pedal away from the car, quickly entangling my legs together and falling on my backside. With a groan, I slowly stand back up, rubbing my butt as I do so.

As painful as it was, the distraction was welcomed. After all, it's not often someone gets exploded and then wakes up 2000 miles away. Just what the heck was mom's device for?

Speaking of the device, just what exactly happened? I recall burning my hands, which are now healed. And feeling that thing practically blow up beside me. I remember burning, I remember how it feels. I don't think I'll ever forget. Yet, despite that, if I told anyone about the kinds of burns I got. They'd be hard pressed to believe me.

I look perfectly healthy. Not a single blemish on my body.

All of this is really throwing my head for a loop. Apparently what I remembered doesn't match with what is happening. How did I even get to this city? What even is this city called? I feel like I'm just going in circles. I need some information, anything!

"What's a brat doing 'round these parts?" A loud booming voice asks.

It does well to snap my attention back to reality. Spinning on my heels to face the source of the voice, I see two adults, wearing matching beanie hats and jackets. My first instinct screams danger. They look like crooks. The kind you'd find in a superhero cartoon. With their matching get up, square face, mean looking eyes. Honestly, they remind me of animals. One looks like a weasel, while the other a big grizzly bear. They were pretty scary.

However, what was scarier was the fact I didn't even notice them until they were just a few feet away! The street's empty! There's only the three of us here. I should have noticed it somehow! I guess it goes to show just how out of it I am at the moment.

"You gon' answer my pal here or not?" The second asks, his voice is nasally, as he speaks I catch a glimpse at crooked yellow stained teeth.

I hold back the urge to gag, instead compromising with a face that looks halfway between cringing, scared and angry. The two adults narrow their eyes, showing me just exactly where their patience was running. I straighten up and quickly nod my head to his previous question.

"S-sorry! I'm just on my way… to leave?" I say, adding the last part confusingly when I notice their feral grins.

"No witnesses, Sorry brat,"

"Witness? Witness to what? There hasn't been a crime committed yet!" I respond hastily.

The second one pipes up, "That's 'bout to change kid."

I slowly inch away, keeping my eyes glued to their hands as I do so. The weasel looking one fetches something from his pocket. I nearly squawk in indignation when he pulls out a knife. A knife! On a kid! I'm just 13 for christ sake that's just ridiculous no matter how you paint it.

What kind of city is this!?

"W-wait, I'll just turn around and pretend I didn't see anything, honest! You can just do whatever it was you didn't want witnesses for," I say, the panic in my voice prominent.

The bear guy laughs, his voice was practically booming in the silence of the night.

"You're not very bright are you kid?" He asks, to which I bristle at the comment.

It's one thing to threaten my life, it's another to insult my intelligence. But beyond that, I'd welcome a distraction and opportunity to talk if only to prolong their attempt at my life. Besides, I find myself genuinely bothered by his question. I'm very bright! I won't let them the satisfaction of insulting me if they're already trying to kill me.

"I'm very bright! I read the dictionary and thesaurus in my pastime!"

The men both cackle at my remark, which quickly makes me feel less assured of myself. Usually the other students look at me in awe, or filter me away as the 'resident nerd'. Laughter as condescending as theirs though? That was hurtful. I won't lie.

"The thesaurus, haha, got a word for gutted?" The weasel asks, smiling wickedly at me.

"Eviscerate," I answer automatically, my eyes widen and I clamp my hands over my mouth, but the deed was done, they already heard me.

"Eviscerate got a nice ring to it,"

"I'll give you my phone! Take it and leave me!" I beg half-shout, I then quickly run my hands through my pockets looking for the product.

Once in my hands, and noticing the adults looking at me with what I'd only assume is morbid curiosity, I toss the phone high into the air.

Their eyes leave me, giving me the opportunity to turn and run away. Back home, I was a pretty fast runner, at least for my age. I was also pretty fit, loving to do physical activities. Mom lamented she couldn't get me into any sports, but I did end up going for runs instead. It was a grueling hobby to pick up.

Right now though, I couldn't be more grateful for my lifestyle. I hear the bear shout at me, but that only motivates me to run faster and further, I don't dare turn back. It's also in this moment I realize I'm not wearing any shoes. My socked feet sting at each step, not that I let that stop me.

I really hope they don't chase me. Please dont chase me. I'm definitely not worth it at all! After running for a dozen seconds I quickly turn my head to view behind me. To my abject horror, the two would be murderers were closing in on me. Fast.

I screamed in shameless fear.

And then, things go from horrifying to utterly despairing. My hand catches fire.

Yeah! I know! It just suddenly engulfs into flames. Like poof! Fire. I don't even know how, why or when, but it does! In fact, I only notice it due to the light the flames emit. Regardless, once in my line of sight, it's all I could focus on, so much so that I trip over my legs.

I tumble for a bit, scrapping my knee as I do so. I hiss in agitation, but quickly shift focus to my still aflame hand, which now has expanded to my forearm. I wave my arm crazily trying to put it out, to little avail.

"Stay away!" I shout as I notice the two adults zero in on my from my peripheral.

Their presence isn't making things better, just seeing them is making my heart beat erratically. I'm beyond scared, beyond panicked. I'm lost, hungry, sick, and confused! I just want one moment to calm down, I just want information!

The flames magnify, running up my whole arm, and jutting out, flickering at the air like a live serpent. My breathing becomes shallow and fast. The two adults stare at me with equal parts confusion and fear.

"Holy hell, he's a freak!" The weasel screeches, raising his knife.

"NO!" I scream in response, thrusting my aflamed hand forward in means of protecting myself.

The flames shoot forth like an extension of my limb. I stare in shock, as the stream of fire collides with the weasel and propels him back a few feet, his screams providing commentary along the way.

What in the hell was that!?

I quickly raise my hand, and watch in horror as the flames continue to shoot out from my palm like a hose. No matter how frantic I move my hand, fire keeps coming out and out! Where is the fire even coming from!? I peel my gaze from the torrent of flames, and face my other to be assailant. He flinches under my glance.

If he was paying attention, he would see the fear, shock and surprise in my eyes! I don't know what's happening! He rushes towards his fallen friend, and easily lifts the man over his shoulder.

I hear him say something to his pal, but it's too far for me to make out. Not that I actually care. More pressing matters at hand. Or for this instance, fiery matter at hand.

I continue to point my burning limb upwards and watch as a steady stream of fire continues to pour out from my palm. How, I don't know. It doesn't actually hurt though. I don't feel the heat, perhaps my nerves are burned through? I really don't understand the technicality.

Mostly because there isn't a technicality, a protocol or procedure for this kind of thing! I'm shooting fire from my hand! That's has to be the single most ridiculous thing to happen to me so far! Which says a lot since I just woke up on the wrong coast. Oh, also I'm pretty sure I died, or should have too.

The stream of fire travels a solid 20 or 30 feet into the air before dissipating. However, it still lights up the otherwise night sky quite brightly. I feel my skin crawl in anxiety, I'm causing a scene, how would I even explain this to authorities anyways?

My train of thought is broken by the sound of an echoing cackle. I stiffen at the laugh, my hair stands and I survey my surroundings. The street, is empty now that the two adults are gone. My brows narrow as I frown. Where did it come from?

That's when I notice a shadow quickly forming at my feet. I turn around and gawk at a funnily outfitted person grappling in. The person is holding onto what I could only describe as a grappling gun, he's also getting way too close to me.

Realization hits, but not before the sole of his boots do. And much like weasel, I'm flying back with screams for commentary. I land with a loud thump, the air escapes my lunges and I'm laying on the ground for far longer than I have any right to.

Eventually, I sluggishly force myself onto my feet again. My new wouldbe murderer has the decency to wait for me, crossing his arms and brow arching up with mild interest as he looks me over.

"You look a little young to be ripping holes in the timespace continuum," He says lazily.

I only focus on the 'young' in his statement and snort despite myself. The boy looks hardly older than I. It doesn't explain why he's dressed in that weird cosplay get up. He's even wearing those silly eye masks. Somehow only white slits show from the eyes though. Honestly, he'd look like a very passable superhero.

His costume screams flashy, yet looks oddly practical. Even from here I can tell he's wearing some sturdy stuff despite how form fitting it is. No matter how ridiculous he looks, He's definitely more dangerous than the last two goons. He's posturing himself in what I'd assume is an alert and ready stance.

And HOLY is that not a terrifying feeling! My arm reacts to my agitation, blazing brighter and larger. Apparently my palms are no longer dispensing fire like a broken tap. Although, something tells me that I'd prefer the broken tap over nothing at all in this very moment.

"Wow, that's bright, let's try to turn the lights out," He says charging at me.

Holy hell I was right!

"Get away from me!" I scream throwing my arm forward.

Just like before, flames sprung out from my palm. The flames shoot out like a beam towards the masked boy. He looks only slightly startled before nimbly diving to the side, tossing small grey pellets at me.

I raise my ablazed arm to block the projectiles, only for the pellets to blow up and produce a smokescreen. One that temporary chews away at the fire. This has the unexpected side effect of agitating the flames, they start moving erratically, shooting out like porcupine quills. They propel away like projectiles, making a whizzing sound as they escape my obstructed vision.

It leaves me very exhausted. I fall to a knee and pant heavily, just trying to catch my breath. The smoke dissipates revealing the street and buildings in scorch marks. To my horror, the boy looks perfectly fine, not a single smidge on his cape or costume. But what scares me even more than that is his nonchalance, he's smirking, finding sick enjoyment out of this all!

He whistles, "definitely don't want to be on the receiving end of that."

"S-stay away! I just want to go home," I plea, forcing myself to my feet.

Being blown up, waking up on the wrong coast, in a city I don't know, being attacked by two thugs who wanted to kill me, then chased me, only for myself to catch fire, then dispense fire like a hose,and now a masked boy is instilling more fear in me than the previous two criminals did! What kind of roller coaster is this!?

I've asked this before, and i'll continue to ask this now: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?

"Robin, report," another voice says, tone cold and words immaculately pronounced.

I nearly trip, instead backpedalling away from the boy, and the now sudden man standing beside him. When did he- where did he come from?

"Engaged the source. He has pyrokinetic abilities yet lacks control over them. It'll be tough to subdue him without harm," comes the calm calculated response from Robin.

Robin sounds very much like the comic book character I'm familiar with. Looking him over with a new light, I can definitely see the possibility. But that just leads to more questions. Robin is a hero, why is he attacking me? Why does he want to subdue me! My arms flare up in agitation. Wait.

Arms?

Oh god, they're both on fire! When did my other arm get on fire! I flail my arms frantically, hoping the motion would douse the flames. To the same effect every other attempt had. Failure.

"What's happening to me, do you know? I ne-" I freeze, finally shifting my gaze onto the man.

Or more importantly, the iconic bat cowl he's wearing. My eyes quickly flicker to his chest. On it, is a sharp- rather symmetrical pointed bat logo. My train of thought screeches to a halt as only one possible name comes to mind.

Batman.

I fall unconscious.