I got bored and thought I would post this story I've been sitting on. Hope everyone likes it!

I can't remember dying, but I remember what happened afterward. It had taken a while to figure out what I actually remembered was. Nothing made sense, memories included. Being born was a harrowing experience though, and it was obvious that whatever was happening was real. Even if it wasn't, it felt real enough that I would treat it that way. What was happening on the other hand, was both straightforward and incomprehensible. It was self-evident but strange enough to rock my worldview.

Getting a chance to restart my life was an amazing gift. I got a do-over to study harder, exercise from early on, avoid common mistakes, and generally improve myself. Life is never that easy though.

I was reborn in a slum, to a pair of addicts. It was a stark difference compared to my previous life. We hadn't been rich, but my parents loved me and we were relatively well off. Finding out I was going to be growing up in a small, dirty apartment and being raised by apathetic, self-destructive parents was a real shock. The fact that this was in the Gotham's slums, the worst part of a giant, city-shaped magnet for the criminally insane... Well, that was just icing on the terrible, terrible cake.

With how negligent my parents were, I was lucky that I didn't die. My luck seemed to turn around when I was three. A couple of men in suits entered the apartment. At first, I thought they were from child services. I was overjoyed. Then I heard them talk and saw the money changing hands.

I had been sold.

That was the point where I decided that these weren't my parents. My only parents were in another universe. People like that, they don't even deserve my hate. They stopped mattering to me. Either way, I never saw them again.

I don't know what they wanted with me. The injections, surgeries, and examinations suggested I was just a guinea pig. Then again, if that's all I was, why would they educate me and take such good care of me? Sure, I get why they would make sure their test subject got proper nutrition and exercise. But whether or not a kid was getting any schooling didn't affect how they reacted to drugs.

I might have been a child soldier, but that didn't seem right either. Again, giving history lessons to an expendable resource seemed pointless. I was getting it all; an advanced education, physical training, good food… If it wasn't for the experiments and their apathetic attitudes I might have believed I was being raised as someone's perfect son.

By the time I had been in this lab for about ten years everyone had gotten quite lax. I hadn't tried to escape even once. I studied hard, trained hard, and never complained. The doctors and trainers were pleased to have such a diligent and talented student. They didn't even question how I learned so much quicker than they expected. They just chalked it up to whatever concoctions they were pumping into me. Not only that but as far as the guards were concerned I was unable to rebel. I had intentionally encouraged that assumption of course.

It was on my thirteenth birthday that everything changed. I finally figured out what they had been planning for me.

Some old man in a wheelchair arrived to 'inspect' me. He was creepy and borderline senile. More importantly, he was also bad at hiding his intentions. The way his wrinkly face twisted when he looked at me made it obvious that letting him do what he wanted was a bad idea. It was a good thing I had an amazing poker face.

"Take off your shirt."

The old man licked his lips as he leaned forward in his wheelchair and looked me over. I pulled off my shirt and folded it over an arm under the eyes of several doctors and guards. The wheezing old man grinned creepily at the sight of my muscular body.

"It's perfect! When can I have it?"

Doctor Quince shifted awkwardly and hesitated to answer. He was new, so he didn't trust me as much as everyone else.

"Sir, I'm not sure we should talk about this in front of C23."

The old man glared at Quince before Doctor Heather cut in. She had been here since the beginning, so she was one of the most complacent.

"C23 will be ready for the procedure in about a month; the treatments have stabilized and he has already begun to undergo puberty."

The old man nodded as she spoke, barely listening. He leered at me.

"My body, my perfect body…"

I'll admit, when I heard that whisper, I nearly made a face. The mental images nearly made me gag. A few of the security guards actually did. The others watched me closely. I hadn't revealed my true thoughts though; my face was a perfect picture of patient boredom. They led their decrepit boss away while he was whispering to himself in that wheezy voice of his.

I was led back to my room, so I pulled out a book and pretended to read it while I was thinking. It didn't take a genius to be able to tell that whatever was going to happen was what these people had spent ten years on me for. I had a good idea of what it was as well.

The old dude was going to use some method to switch bodies with me.

There were other possibilities, but this theory made the most sense. If the old dude wanted my body for… other reasons, he wouldn't bother spending all this time and money on me. There was no reason to buy a baby and pump them full of drugs for something like that. Between the creepy comments about 'my body' and the fact that this was a comic universe, I could be pretty sure his goal was more ridiculous. The old man wanted a physically and mentally superior body to stick his mind in.

My first instinct was to escape immediately. I really, really didn't want some creepy old geezer to play bodysnatcher. Then I had an idea. If I played my cards right, I would actually benefit from this.