A/N: Since I'm not sure what tomorrow brings I'm posting this WIP...random updates. You can find more stories on my blog.
Nobody remembers the moment they are born. Rightly so, no one in their right mind would want to. Unless you were not born but made. If you were made, the first time you opened your eyes everything would be new and it would make an impact so strong it would not be easily forgotten. In time you could learn. With knowledge would come the realization that you would eventually come to, the fact that you were made in a lab from the DNA of another. And the idea that there is another you—not a copy but the original—would change everything that you've learned. Your entire existence would be based on a lie. Because the other, the progenitor, would not be aware that a part of them was stolen to create someone else. Flesh from their flesh. Or in this case, an entire human person from their DNA. The clone could potentially become obsessed with finding their ancestor.
That is the case of the main character of this story. He has been kept under lock and key since his genesis. He has been learning. Watching. Kept under scrutiny; while he developed a sense of awareness. Gaining the knowledge of right and wrong. Realizing at some point that he is a prisoner. Everyone speaks of him, but no one speaks to him. Except for the one who made him. The first person he saw when he gained his senses. But he thinks back and remembers that from the very beginning, the very first breath, he was just a lab rat. But unlike the rats in their cages, he has the capability of higher thinking. Not to mention, knowledge of a life he's never lived. The knowledge of which he gained through dreams. Dreams of people he's never met. Places he's never been. Taste of food he'd never eaten. Sounds he only heard through the ears of another. The original. His ancestor. Peter Parker. Who, without being aware, shared his memories with his clone. Memories that empowered him to find Peter and tell him he exists so that he could then begin his own life. He's so tired of being alone. He craves an identity and interaction with others. So he patiently waits and plans to create the perfect opportunity for escape.
Who am I?
The question is at the forefront of his mind. He has no name. No identity. No sense of direction either from the looks of it. He'd been wandering aimlessly since he escaped from the lab. It had been easy. He was strong. He was lithe. He could jump high. And crawl on walls. So he easily slipped into the vents and followed a small animal—a mouse or lizard, he couldn't tell the difference in the darkness of the vent—until he was outside. The excitement of his breakout overwhelmed him. The alarms blaring from the building scared him. And the adrenaline coursing inside of him pushed him forward. So he ran. He ran so fast and so long that he had no idea where he was. But he was tired. He found himself in some sort of tunnel. He slowed to a stop when he saw a hollow in the wall where he hid and slept.
The sound of blaring horns woke him. He quickly got up and made his way towards the sound only to find himself on the edge of a road. Cars and big trucks sped passed him. He choked on the exhaust and ran towards the mouth of the tunnel. He kept to the edge where it was safe. He walked along the side of the road once he'd made it out of the tunnel until he was stopped by a man in a uniform who asked him his name.
Who am I?
"What's the matter, can't speak?" asked the officer as he eyed the teenage boy suspiciously. He was dirty like he'd fallen in mud and grime. But otherwise looked healthy. Not homeless but maybe a recent runaway the officer believed. Either that or he had a late rough night. It was a toss-up really.
"I…" he said, voice hoarse. He'd never had to speak out loud before. He heard the lab workers and the professor speaking and he understood language, but he'd never been spoken to directly. When he heard his own voice it distracted him, he smiled happily—a small smile—and nodded to the officer.
"What's your name, kid?" the officer asked patiently with a show of concern in his eyes.
He shook his head. "They didn't give me a name." He enunciated each word and spoke slowly.
The officer eyed him suspiciously then his mouth formed a tight line. "Where did you come from?"
"I don't know," he said with a slight frown as he looked around. He couldn't remember which direction he'd come from. "I escaped."
"Jesus," the officer said in alarm. Then he realized he'd alarmed the kid who'd taken a step back. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He rubbed his head in frustration and then gestured for the kid to follow him. "Come with me, kid. I'll get you some help and hopefully, we can figure out who you are."
"Where...where are we going?" he said, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to be locked up again."
The officer dropped his hand and gestured to the patrol car. "I want to help you. But I can't do that if you don't come with me."
"But where are we going?" he said staring at the officer with wide pleading eyes.
"The precinct," the officer said and when he saw the kid frown he elaborated. "I can call ahead to have a social worker meet us there."
"A social worker?"
"Yes, a social worker." At the kid's confused look the officer patiently explained. "A person who provides help and support for those in need. They can help you find a home, a family. What do you say? That sound good?"
"Yes," he said with a small nod and then his stomach growled.
"We'll make a pit stop on the way. How does a burger sound?"
He knew what a burger was and he emphatically nodded. The officer smiled at him kindly and walked to the patrol car. He opened the door to the backseat and gestured for the kid to get in.
He eyed the vehicle skeptically but followed the officer nonetheless. He didn't quite trust the man but he was hungry and he really wanted a burger.
The officer didn't just buy him a burger but also fries and a fizzy drink. He was so happy to be experiencing the taste in real life and not just in dreams. He didn't know that the sense of taste could overpower him so completely. Before he knew it, he was happily humming and ignoring everything around him. Sounds. Sights. Until the backdoor of the patrol car opened again and the officer told him to get out. And then everything slammed into him so fast and loud that he cried out. The city was so bright and very very loud. A sensation he only felt at the lab prior to his escape shot up his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. But he couldn't react. He was in shock. And in pain. He covered his ears and closed his eyes tight. He spilled his drink into his lap but he hardly noticed. It was too much.
make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!
Then it did. He felt heavy. Lightheaded. His arms dropped to his side. Darkness enveloped him and he welcomed it.
The smell of chemicals forced him to wake up. He didn't know why or how he ended up back at the lab but he needed to flee. He removed all the sticky tabs connected to him and also a needle that had been inserted into his forearm. He jumped out of the bed and crept to the door. He allowed his instinct to guide him out of the room and into a corridor that led to a staircase. He didn't run into anyone but the sounds of an alarm alerted those close by to his escape. He ran up the stairs with his gown billowing behind him. He was barefoot and the floor was cold but he hardly noticed. Not until he'd made it to the rooftop and the wind blew his gown up.
He shivered and pinched the gown behind him to keep it steady. He didn't know where he was supposed to go from there. He was twenty stories up. But as he edged closer to the roof railing, he took in all the lights. It was twilight but the city was busy with colors, sounds, and aromas. It was a little overwhelming but not as scary as it had been before. He couldn't remember what had happened before but he was going to have to get used to the sensory overload of the busy city. And he felt good. Like he was home.
This place wasn't the lab he realized. When he'd escaped the lab the outside wasn't bustling with people like this place. Not inside and definitely not outside. His heart started to beat faster as he looked down. The height made him dizzy. He thought about crawling down the side of the building but another gust of wind blew past him. Goosebumps covered every inch of his skin and he huddled into himself for warmth. He couldn't hang on to the wall and his gown. Especially not when he was shivering. He didn't want to go back inside. He wasn't sure if it was safe to be seen. He gripped the railing unsure of what to do. But then he heard a soft footfall behind him and he turned towards the noise.
He stared wide-eyed at the figure who stood before him. A man dressed from head to toe in a red suit with horns. His heart hammered in his chest.
"It's okay," said the red-clad man. "I'm here to help."
"Help?" he asked in a small voice and pressed himself closer to the railing.
"Yes," the man said in a low tone and gestured with his hand. "Do you mind stepping away from the edge for me?"
"Huh?" he said and looked from the man to the railing. "Why?"
"I would just feel a lot more comfortable if you weren't standing so close to the edge," said the man as he stepped closer still reaching out his hand.
"Why-why are you dressed like that?" he asked still pressed to the railing. The mask the man was wearing was unnerving. He couldn't even see the man's eyes. It just looked like an endless pool of darkness.
The man stilled and dropped his hand. He looked askance in the kid's general direction. "You've never heard of me?"
"Uh, no?" he said with some uncertainty. He couldn't remember ever dreaming of anyone who looked like this guy. But then again his dreams hadn't clued him in on much of anything he'd seen or heard outside the lab. "I'm new." He wasn't sure how to explain he had just been made so he figured the less he said...uh, the better?
"Oh, new in town, huh?" the masked man said, taking another cautious step closer. "That makes sense. Well, I'm Daredevil."
"Daredevil," he said giving the man a skeptical look. "Is that what you are or your just your name?"
"Yeah, it's my name while I wear this," he gestured to his outfit, "to keep my identity hidden. It keeps my family and friends safe."
"Why are your ears so far forward? Are you deformed or something?"
"No," Daredevil said and huffed out a laugh. He pointed at his helmet. "They're horns."
"So you have...horns?"
"No," Daredevil replied with a smirk. "It's just part of the headpiece. A decoration because of the devil motif."
"I've never seen a devil before. They have horns?"
"I'm not really sure. I've never seen one either but the Devil is depicted with horns and a tail in art going as far back as I can remember."
He craned his neck trying to see Daredevil's back. "You have a tail too?"
"No, no tail," Daredevil replied amusedly.
"Oh," he said and let his shoulders sag like he was disappointed.
"What about you, kid?"
"Uh, no. I don't have a tail. My ancestor didn't have one either," he said in surprise. People didn't have tails, right? "I'm just trying to keep this gown from blowing up in the wind."
"No," Daredevil said with a wave of his hand. He was smiling. "I meant, your name. Care to share."
Who am I?