Ghost of Former Self
Based off @zadra-sixkiller imagine. Check her out, she’s great. The reader has teleportation and invisibility powers, and I’m trying to make it gender neutral. Superhero name is ‘Ghost’ because puns. I kinda took this imagine and sprinted a marathon with it. Also added in a little smidge of a tøp song in this. (It’s called ‘Goner’.) And hopefully you all know (Y/N) is ‘your name’.
A smirk curled across your lips as you picked up on the lumbering movement of a goon behind you. With minimal effort, you vanished from your spot in front of the charging goon and flickered into existence behind him, planting your foot solidly in the space between his shoulder blades. Your weight forced him to the ground and thudded his head solidly on the floor.
“Nice!” A yellow blur zipped to your side. Kid Flash grinned at you, and you easily returned the smile.
“Pretty sure that’s all of them,” Superboy said, his voice still rumbly and oddly comforting and…
You should stop thinking things.
“Hopefully all of them,” you said, sounding exasperated, “I have an essay due tomorrow for biology, and that is not going to write itself.”
“We’re not done here yet, Ghost,” Robin directed your thoughts of having to completely make up and essay to the mission, “Still gotta get in the vault.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved your hand at him, “We checked the blueprints earlier. It has a window, I’ll be able to do it.”
You blinked in and out of existence to travel to the vault, because walking like a normal person was overrated. You hummed the tune to a song that had been stuck in your head since you had heard it on the radio on the way to school.
You know, Miss Martian transmitted to you, evidently not interested in catching up to your excessive teleportation, You’re lucky Aqualad and Artemis were the distraction and he isn’t here to reprimand you for going on ahead.
Hey, I always do this, and nothing happens, you complained, He’s just an overprotective bother figure.
Whatever you say, she said, sounding a bit done with your attitude. Which happened like ten times a day with everyone, so, to be honest, not really offensive.
You reached the heavy vault door and tiptoed so you could see through the heavy duty glass. Staring at the space just past the door, you easily flickered into the vault.
That would be the end of all things easy, unfortunately.
The moment you blinked into the room, a cold metal embrace clasped around your neck, the shocks it was administering to you leaving you keeled over on the ground. You gasped in pain, air frantically escaping and rushing into you lungs.
RUN RUN RUNRUNRUNRUN
That was last week.
That desperate scream of thoughts was the last things M’gann had picked up from you before she distributed these thoughts to the entire team and got the hell out of there. They barely got out without a huge automated turret, disguised as a water tower, activating and tearing a hole in the bioship.
But you weren’t there.
The Team suffered, and it showed.
So when Batman got a lead on your location, they absolutely leaped at the chance to get you back. Your easy smile. Your absolutely stupid puns. The relief of tension whenever you flickered into a room.
So you better bet they stormed that warehouse, damn near knocking out every single person in that building. They spread out through out the building, storming through every room trying to find you.
Conner lightly stepped into a sparse room, with only a bed and a rug in the area. He started to move over to the bed to examine it, when his super hearing picked up on sounds from beneath his feet.
He kicked the rug away from underneath him, which revealed a trapdoor. Hastily, he opened it.
Super sensitive ears picked up on barely exhaled words in a scarcely familiar voice. Conner started to walk in the direction of where he heard you.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness and made out a huddled form against a wall. Those same seeing organs narrowed when he saw the bulky metal collar around you neck. He snapped the collar off carefully, taking care not to injure you.
Your vision opened in slits of your eyelids, registering your non-collared neck. Too tired to care about what torture was prepared next for you, you let them fall close again. You were not going to bend space and time for them. No.
You liked sleeping more, as with many things.
It took you a while to register that the whole rescue was not a trick and was in fact, not a different mental torture, but you did. Eventually. It was probably most obvious in how the Team did not bring up that week at all and did absolutely nothing to provoke you.
Well, Wally had just got ketchup on your shirt, but that was fine.
“Damn it, sorry,” he reached over to you with napkins in hand. You immediately shrunk away and stood up.
“S’fine,” you muttered, “I’m gonna change.” You turned and walked down the hall to your guest room you kept here. You still hadn’t returned to your real life, but apparently Batman had that story covered.
You continued to walk down the hall like a normal person.
The entirety of your friends peered down the hall after you, looking concerned.
“That isn’t normal,” Wally mumbled, deflated from the loss of his friend.
“What about (Y/N) has been normal since that week?” Artemis snarked halfheartedly, not really putting effort into the sarcasm.
“Yeah,” Robin said with equal enthusiasm to match the archer’s, “No blinking into rooms. Moping. Not laughing at the lesbian bug joke.”
M’gann just stared hard at the floor, blinking to hold back tears at the change in her teammate.
“We need to get through to (Y/N),” Kaldur said quietly, more reserved than usual, “We need-”
“Got it,” Conner already began walking out of the room, “I’ll go talk with them.”
He continued to your room with no one else volunteering to go and readied a conversation in his head to talk with you.
The part alien walked into the doorway of your room and opened his mouth, ready to greet you, before his face contorted into a look of alarm.
You were in the middle of taking off your shirt, which should’ve made him turn away if not for the appalling state of your back.
Strange designs or symbols were drawn in red on your back, linking together in some strange shape. It took him another second of staring to realize those lines were not drawn.
They were carved.
Your skin had been sliced open to accommodate these fluidly made marks and house them on your body.
By the time you had gotten the other shirt on to cover up all signs of the slices in your back, he was long gone.
I’m like 87% positive I’ll do a part 2. If people want me to. Like, I actually think I can make it darker. Or maybe fluffy. Depends. This probably turned out kinda sad because it’s a Monday.
Again, check out @zadra-sixkiller for more of these amazing snippets of though. Really. They’re great.