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The elevator opened with a soft chime, and Morbius stepped out into silence. Dr. Jacob Weisenthal's penthouse hadn't changed. The last time Morbius had stepped foot here he was normal, human.
Books lined every available surface, arranged with the kind of obsessive precision that spoke to either genius or madness, though with Jacob, it was always a little of both. Floor to ceiling windows gave way to a view of the city's glittering sprawl, a stark contrast to the sterile quiet within. Soft jazz murmured from a record player in the corner, it felt like centuries since Morbius had last sat with his old friend listening to records.
Morbius moved like a shadow through the room, soundless but undeniable. Jacob emerged from the kitchen in slippers and a bathrobe, a glass of something amber in hand. He froze mid-step when he saw him, almost dropping his glass before regaining his composure.
"Michael."
Morbius didn't smile. Unfortunately this wasn't the reunion Jacob had wished for.
"I need your help."
Jacob stared for a long second, then exhaled through his nose and set the glass down. "Of course you do." He walked past without fear, maybe out of old familiarity, maybe because he'd learned long ago that fear was wasted on Morbius. He gestured to the leather couch. "Sit, or brood. Either way, make yourself at home. You already let yourself in." Morbius stood, unmoving, then drew the vial from his coat and held it out. Jacob took it carefully between thumb and forefinger, squinting at the worn lettering. "‘Trial Use Only' ...Where did you find this?"
"In an alley." Morbius said bluntly. "Beside a body with no blood left. Not drained the way I'd do it. No marks. No mess. Just ..nothing."
Jacob glanced up, something flickering behind his eyes. Not fear. Concern. "You're saying it wasn't you."
"If it was..." Morbius retorted "I wouldn't be here."
Jacob turned, moving to a small desk tucked beneath a wall of medical texts. He flicked on a lamp and withdrew a case of clean instruments. "This isn’t consumer tech." he muttered. "No ID number. Nothing commercial. Probably prototype. Experimental." He uncapped the syringe, sniffed delicately, then froze.
Morbius watched him. "You recognize it?"
"I don't know what it is." Jacob said slowly. "But I know what it isn't. This isn't anesthetic. It isn't a blood thinner, and it's not a street drug. This is something else entirely. I'll need a proper analysis. Mass spectrometry, maybe." He stopped, looked back at Morbius. "You sure you want to know what this is?"
Morbius' voice was low, but steady. "I need to know who else has been playing god in my city."
Jacob nodded. "Give me a few nights."
Morbius turned to leave but hesitated at the glass doors leading to the balcony. He glanced back over his shoulder, his silhouette distorted in the reflection. "Jacob." he said, his voice sounding almost human again. "Thank you."
Jacob didn't look up, still inspecting the vial in his hands. "You can thank me when this doesn't lead to something worse."
Morbius stepped into the night. A moment later, he was gone. For Morbius, it only ever lead to something worse.
<Snipped quote by Hillan>
Why would he intentionally look in on people changing? Is he a voucher?
Petition to have all walls in the tower lead lined
Is there a better team building exercise than joint lead poisoning?
Megan watched as each member of the team entered the command centre. Kyle was the first in, offering his services to transport those less aerodynamically inclined as the rest filtered through the door. She had to admit, the thought of Arsenal, Robin, and Stitch all bouncing around inside a hardlight orb like a superhero Gashopon made her chuckle a bit to herself. The T-Jet itself was a thing of beauty to Megan. She could fly of her own volition of course, but the jet offered a much cosier and more conversational mode of travel. It also reminded her to some aspect of the Bio-ship she flew to Earth in, and to a lesser degree the space station she was brought up in. One of the things she found strangest about being on Earth was actually being on a planet itself, gravity felt strange to someone who had only ever felt it artificially.
"Had we executed Cinderblock as I suggested last time," Troia interjected, "We would not be dealing with this problem in the present."
She kept quiet as Troia brought up her suggestion of using lethal force on Cinderblock during their last encounter. It had certainly divided the group, and Megan wasn't exacly sure where she stood on the topic. Of course, Troia's point made a lot of sense. Had they allowed her to 'execute' Cinderblock last time they wouldn't be dealing with this now, and the fallout of his continued rampage would have been minimized greatly. Maybe it was the White Martian in her agreeing with such force, but deep down she couldn't help but feel it wasn't the way. In her time with J'onn he had instilled in her such morals, trying to mold her with Earth's ideals and laws rather than that of Mars. She paled to think what would have happened if her parents had been the ones to teach her right or wrong, execution would have come second to suffering had they had the opportunity. Perhaps she overcompensated the other way as a result of this, forced herself to be too merciful in her own act of small rebellion against Galleon-9.
"The Squire and the Paladin," Troia replied, gesturing towards Kyle and Robin. "Perhaps, Lady M'Gann, her abilities may prove beneficial."
She snapped out of her daydream as the image of Robin and Kyle dressed as medieval knights galloped its way into her imagination. She couldn't help but grin to herself. Troia's experience as a warrior was showing, she was glad that the Valkyrie was taking the lead. Jupiter had been more than welcoming since she had joined the team, and she found some solace in a fellow telepath being his right hand man. If she was anything like Megan, then lying wouldn't be her strong suit.
She turned to Robin as he nudged her, smiling back at his nightlight comment. She followed the two out, gently floating behind them as they made their way out of the room.
"I just wonder which one of you Troia thinks is the Squire and which one is the Paladin." She said plainly, unknowingly potentially adding further insult to injury.
The alley reeked of bleach.
Morbius crouched on the rooftop ledge, watching the narrow space below like a hawk watching a field already stripped of prey. Three nights had passed since another body was found, bloodless, lifeless, dumped like garbage between two dumpsters off Delancey. The newspapers called it a "cult killing." Social media screamed vampires. The cops had already moved on, another body tagged and bagged in a city too busy to mourn its dead. But Morbius hadn't left. Something about this whole thing was wrong. Wronger than usual. He'd seen his fair share of weirdos on both sides of the super spectrum, but this was just weird.
He dropped down silently, boots splashing in a shallow puddle. The chalk outline had already faded, washed away by the rain, but the scent still lingered. Not blood, that was long gone. It was something else, something sharp and chemical. The kind of smell you didn't associate with an alley but with a lab. Or worse, a hospital that stopped caring about patients.
He knelt, talons tracing the cracked concrete. No drag marks. The body hadn't been moved here postmortem, it had died here. A controlled space. Cleaned afterward. Too clean. His fingers brushed a piece of metal tucked against the wall. It was small, he almost missed it. A needle. No, not quite, a fine syringe, still capped, marked with faded lettering. He held it up to the moonlight. Most of the print had worn off, but three words were still faintly legible.
"Trial Use Only."
His eyes narrowed. He slipped the syringe into a pouch on his belt and turned to leave, then paused. A faint vibration ran through the bricks beside him. Not sound, not movement. Something deeper. A whine, almost imperceptible, building beneath the surface like a buried machine.
He followed it.
Locutus of Borg?
Just writing to check in! I've been holding off making a post as I didn't want to progress past the fire event without others rounding off their parts of the story. I just thought I'd make a post to let everyone know I'm still here!
Just over a year ago
Galleon-6
Galleon-6 had been M'Gann's home since she could remember. The cold, dark, derelict mining station drifted in orbit like a forgotten memory. A skeletal construct of old Martian tech from long before the Martian civil war, tucked between asteroid shadows in a place no one thought to look, not that anyone was. On its surface, nothing stirred amidst the silence of space. But inside, panic simmered beneath fluroescent lights.
Red warning lights blinked down a narrow corridor. Footsteps echoed against sterile metal. M'gann pressed her back against the wall, breathing shallowly, the psionic static of approaching minds scraping against her skull like rusted wire.
Almost there.
She clutched a small orb tight against her chest, a neural decryptor she'd risked everything to steal. It hummed softly in her grip, glowing faintly green. With it, the Bio-Ship, stashed just beyond the outer bay doors would finally respond to her thoughts. The last hope for escape was just beyond her grasp, it was too late to turn back now, this was her only shot.
Voices closed in.
"Zone 4's compromised. She must've looped the feed, check the hangar!" The voice was of Va'korr Rhezz, her uncle. She didn't recognise his harsh tone as his voice bellowed through the halls. It was sharp, commanding, and far colder than the gentle voice she remembered from childhood.
A shiver ran up her spine. Not out of fear. Guilt. She still felt them all, her cousins, her kin, the neural imprint of their thoughts brushing hers like static snow. Even now, they didn't hate her. Not really. They pitied her. Pitied her for even having the thought of escaping.
M'gann pushed the feeling down and ran.
Her boots struck the grated flooring, limbs narrowing and features softening mid-stride as she shed the last vestiges of her Martian form. Her body shimmered, smoothing into the shape of a human girl, still bearing the same build, the same posture, but now with freckled skin and auburn hair, her eyes a striking green that masked the glow beneath. She'd practiced this form for months in secret, copying the transmissions that came through from Earth and making sure no one else on the station caught her.
She didn't need the disguise to fool them, they'd see through it instantly. But shifting into the human girl felt right. It was the version of herself she'd spent months quietly perfecting. This form was hers, not something inherited or assigned. It reminded her what she was running toward, not just what she was running from.
The launch bay loomed ahead, the curve of the Bio-Ship's hull reflecting crimson pulses from the ceiling. It saw her. She could feel its silent thoughts stirring, melding with her own mind as the neural decryptor began to glow more vividly.
The bulkhead behind her hissed open.
"M'gann, stop! You don’t know what you're doing!"
Her brother's voice. Garrek. Always the loyal one. Always louder in her head than anyone else. He stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the strange alien being that his sister had taken the shape of.
"I do." she said, barely louder than a breath. "That's why I’m leaving."
She didn't wait for the reply. Nothing he could have said in that moment would have convinced her to stay.
The ship's ramp descended as she reached it, tendrils of light wrapping gently around her arms, pulling her in like an embrace. The metal screamed as doors slammed behind her, plasma bursts rattling the air as her brother's team fired after her retreating form.
The Bio-Ship surged forward, bursting from the station's hangar like a bird breaking free of its cage. Alarms faded into the vacuum of space as M'gann collapsed into the cockpit, she could feel herself shaking as the silence overwhelmed her. For a moment she felt doubt within her, it wasn't just her family and friends she was leaving behind, but to her she was abandoning the entire known universe to set sail for the new world. She pulled her knees up to her chest as anxiety rippled through her.
A voice, not hers, but inside her mind all the same, broke the silence whispering gently.
"Destination?"
She didn't answer right away. For a moment she was startled, before she quickly understood the Bio-ship had fully merged with her mind. She rose to her feet, making her way over to a window and peering out. Through the viewport, Galleon-6 shrank behind her, a dying light among stars that no longer held meaning. M'gann closed her eyes, steadying herself.
"Earth."
And the stars bled into streaks as the ship slipped into FTL, carrying her what felt like a thousand light years from home, and finally, toward a place to begin again.
Present Day
Titan Tower
Megan had been awake for a few hours now, she'd struggled to sleep after landing on earth, and struggled even further after arriving in San Francisco. She spent the wee hours of the morning in the living room, curled on the far end of the living room couch, eyes glued to the flickering images on a flat-screen TV as the movie 'Airplane'. She was watching like it was the news, studying every exaggerated gesture and over the top joke. To her this wasn't a wacky comedy, it was homework. If one thing had eluded her about speaking with humans, it was humour, that and sarcasm. On the screen, a man piloting the plane was sweating profusely while the music swelled, wiping his brow with a nervous look on his face. Megan blinked, trying to piece it together. Why was it funny that he was sweating? Was the plane hot? Was it a metaphor?
She rubbed the centre of her brow, squeezing her eyes shut. The headache's had started not long after she'd arrived in San Francisco. A soft throb behind her eyes, like her thoughts were trying to stretch into too many shapes at once. She'd put it down to the jet lag and lack of sleep, but in truth it was taking a lot of her mental power not to have her telepathy on all the time. She'd made for an awkward introduction to the rest of the team after communicating with them mentally when they first met. Something which she quickly came to realise was somewhat of a faux-pas.
There were so many minds on earth. Alien in their familiarity. Scattershot and fast-moving. Even now, at this hour, she could feel the edges of them brushing faintly against her own. She took a deep breath, reaching out for the still warm mug of tea on the table in front of her and taking a sip. She'd been told tea helped with headaches. It didn't.
The alarm sounded, not exactly helping the headache, but nonetheless a break from the monotony. Her eyes drifted upwards to the speaker system in the corner of the room as Jupiter's voice rung out. She hit the off button on the TV as she rose to her feet and hurriedly made her way back to her room.
The space was still mostly empty, just a bed, a desk, and a few small things she'd brought with her. A photo clipped from a decades old Earth magazine, taped next to her mirror. A potted plant she wasn't sure how to take care of. And a small carved token from her bunk back on Galleon-6, tucked carefully between the folds of a spare sweater. She moved to the mirror and caught sight of her reflection, still in the oversized sweater, hair slightly frizzed, eyes heavy with sleep and thought. For a moment, she just stared. She hadn't shifted back yet.
The human girl in the mirror looked out of place among the futuristic tech and stark lines of the Titans' Tower. Her freckles were smudged from sleep, her hair wild around her shoulders, and the band logo across her sweater, The Flaming Lips, was cracked with wear.
The uniform was folded neatly at the foot of her bed. It still felt like a costume, but one she'd chosen. She slipped out of the sweater, shaking herself out of the lingering tiredness, and began dressing with practiced care. The suit clung and adjusted, syncing to her frame with a soft whisper of fabric against skin. It fit better today than it had during their first encounter against Cinderblock. That was something at least. She added the final touch, changing into her Green Martian form, her iris' fading until her eyes became a solid red.
She left her room, gliding along the floor towards the briefing room, the doors sliding open with a hiss as she approached. Troia had made it there before her, ever the eager warrior. She'd arrived just in time to overhear Jupiter clarifying that Cinderblock was back.
"Good morning, everyone. Cinderblock again?" She spoke, crossing her arms as she floated inches above the floor. She glanced toward Troia, offering a a half-smile. "Is this a regular thing for Earth criminals? Show up, get punched into the ground, then reappear like nothing happened?"
M A R T I A N
M A R T I A N
M A R T I A N
"I am 87% sure I used that idiom correctly. I am 100% sure I will pretend I did."
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T  _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y M'Gann M'Orzz (Megan Morse) _________________________________________________________ 20 | Single _________________________________________________________ Martian Manhunter | White Martian N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S | T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... M'Gann M'Orzz was born on Galleon-6, a derelict mining outpost hidden deep within an asteroid belt. It was never charted on official Martian maps, and was insignificant enough to never be investigated. After the civil war that scorched the Martian surface and left the Green cities in radioactive ruin, a fractured sect of White Martians fled. Galleon-6 became their phantom refuge. A ghost colony for a ghost race, housing those lucky enough to escape banishment to the 'Still Zone'. M'Gann was raised by her parents, former soldiers in the civil war staunchly opposed to the Green Martian regime. The survivors on the base taught her to stay hidden, to fear outsiders, and to never trust a mind not linked to her own. Life on Galleon-6 was cold and hushed. Endless metal corridors, lessons delivered through telepathy, and conversations that always carried the weight of warning and venom of revenge. While the others clung to thoughts of retribution, M'Gann quietly held onto a different dream, not of war, but of freedom. Galleon-6's aging comm-arrays, long used to monitor deep-space patrols and other Martian outposts, eventually picked up the drifting signals of Earth. Old sitcoms, music videos, emergency broadcasts, and historical documentaries. The signals weren't meant for her, but M'gann absorbed them like sunlight, keeping them hidden from her distrustful relatives. She learned English before she ever heard it spoken. She imitated human expressions before ever meeting one. In the stillness of Galleon-6, Earth became her secret utopia. At the age of 18, she fled her people, telling only her older brother about her plan. Taking on the name Megan Morse, she arrived on Earth posing as a Green Martian survivor and long lost niece of J'onn J'onzz. He doesn't challenge the lie, whether he believes it or not remains a mystery. In truth, he sees something of his lost world in her and perhaps something redemptive. Now walking among Earth's young heroes after being taken on as the Martian Manhunter's sidekick for a year, M'gann fights to protect a world she loves but doesn't fully understand. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) I have always thought the Martians in DC are fairly underrated characters, and after reading the first issue of the new Absolute Martian Manhunter and beginning to watch Young Justice, I feel compelled to try my hand at doing one of them justice! Primarily I'd like to explore the theme of identity with Megan. I feel like a large part of growing up is deciding who and what you want to be amongst the pressures of family, friends etc. Megan's desire to be a Titan, while being influenced by her White Martian family to spy on Earth I believe creates good conflict and a great opportunity for character growth. A storyline I'd like to go down at some point is perhaps this being discovered by the rest of the team, or just the clues towards a mole in the team causing her to become paranoid and eventually reveal who she truly is to them. The idea of a found family for her is one I'd want to focus on also. She would want to integrate as much as she could within the team and seperate herself from those on Galleon-6 as much as possible, but would feel a responsibility to help her blood family despite her intuition telling her it is wrong. |
I'll say Conner arrived in this timeline five months ago and auditioned for the team by showing up to the original Cinderblock fight if anyone wants to work on relationships.
That would be great! I'm about to go to the cinema but can PM you when I'm free. If anyone else would like to work on previous relationships please PM me.
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