Chapter 1: A Day In The Life of a Reincarnated Person
Opening my eyes, I realized what time it was. Time to wake up, obviously.
Groaning, I pulled myself up into a sitting position. Yawning, I scratched at my stomach before sitting up and stretching. Before I did anything further, I dropped to the ground and began doing press-ups.
1 press-up. 10 press-ups. 100 press-ups. So on and so forth.
Once I hit my daily quota, I moved on to sit-ups...then onto squats...then I began doing chin-ups...Basically, I did just about every workout and bodyweight exercise you could do.
Yet even after I'd done such a stunt...I felt unsatisfied, "Not enough," I told myself coldly before I exited my room and walked to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I took my underwear off before getting into the freezing cold shower. We couldn't afford to pay for the maintenance or even a functioning boiler for our water. Every shower I took was cold and biting...but it helped me center myself. Helped me temper my resolve.
That I wouldn't be in such a shit hole forever. I would rise one day. I would rise above the scum and darkness I associated with right now. One day.
I wiped my body clean of sweat and grime and I for once, looked over my body with some modicum of pride. Lean, but filled with muscle and not too lean or slender. Like a Swimmer's body but with a bit more bulk. Each muscle had been crafted over the years through my own knowledge in biology, medicine and anatomy. I was left with a body that was the peak of what I could have for my age, build and height.
Each attribute for my body was brought to the highest it could be. Strength of an Olympic weightlifter, speed of an Olympic sprinter, endurance and stamina of an Olympic long-distance runner, durability of a professional heavyweight boxer and the reaction speed and explosiveness professional lightweight boxer. I'd taken care of this body as in Gotham, the only two things you can trust are your body and your mind. Maybe your instinct and wit as well.
Why had I taken so much effort to make my body like this? Because I was a reincarnated individual. I was born 15 years ago and I turned 15 last week.
I came into this world in a catatonic state as I was so shocked at being reborn. The doctors had even thought I was stillborn until one of them slapped my ass and I gave out an involuntary cry. Then, I was given to my mother who hugged me and didn't care about my odd behavior. She just whispered to me about how much she loved me.
Sadly, I couldn't reply. I just lay there. In fact, until my 2nd birthday, I didn't exactly believe I'd actually been reborn. My entire life's beliefs had been turned upside down.
Reincarnation? That implies a higher power. I was a strict atheist. Not to the point where I disdained religion and those who followed it. No, I actually envied those people. I wanted so much to be able to be able to believe like they had. To at least have some assurance that there was something after death. But I couldn't fool myself. Nor could I be persuaded.
...But to think that I was wrong. Huh. It wasn't something I was used to, honestly.
You see, in my life before this one, I was what you'd call a prodigy. A miracle to the field of study I picked. The field of science I entered was biology. More specifically medicine, physiology and human anatomy.
I was obsessed with it. I became a doctor, a biologist, a researcher, but first and foremost, I was a child who was obsessed with making humans better.
It was constantly on my mind, born through selfish desires to have equals who could be like me. Yet slowly, it was twisted into just making humans as a whole better. I'd seen human greed, and it disgusted me. I wanted to elevate humans above that. I wanted to to do what Prometheus did for man in Greek Mythology. I wanted to steal secrets from the Gods, from realms above us, and give it to them. To make us better as a species.
But I gave up on that as well.
Instead, I just did what I wanted to do. Researched what I wanted to do. And occasionally, I'd help the world by figuring out some kind of medical practice that could help thousands of people. Even when I didn't try my hardest, I was still referred to as a medical prodigy.
Yet everything can change even when you were like me and searched for perfection like me. Even after I exercised, ate healthily and prioritized my well-being...I still gained a form of inoperable cancer.
I did everything I could to survive. But I still died. It was at that moment that I realized the fragility of a human. Their imperfections. Their...weakness.
And then I woke up to being born.
Turning off the shower, I stepped out of it and onto the utterly disgusting floor of the bathroom tiles. Though I'd gotten used to it by now and just picked up a towel and began to dry myself as I exited the bathroom. Walking back to my bedroom, I looked toward a nearby bedroom before I sighed, shook my head and just went back to my own room.
I'd never known my father. Though, I had certain suspicions on who he could be. But I do know my mother.
A beautifully vibrant woman named Sarah. She is...wonderful. Despite me being an unusual and utterly odd baby, she never gave up on me. She always read me books and played with me. She fed me expensive baby food and neglected her own diet for me. She was the perfect mother.
I was never one for love in my past life...
But I love my mother. But not because she's my mother and that's what's expected from me, her son. No, I love her because she went out of her way for me when she had no need to. We live in Gotham. There are plenty of places to dump a baby you don't want or need. There are even more places you could sell a baby if you don't want it. But she didn't. She actively chose to keep me. I love her because of that. I'll be eternally grateful of that.
As soon as I got into my room, I'd finished drying, so I folded up the towel before laying it on the floor next to the door. Upon doing that, I opened my wardrobe and took out the clothes I'd be wearing today.
I had a busy day.
I took out a well-worn black hoodie and some denim jeans that were slightly ripped around the knee area. Not because I'd done that or bought them because of that - they were second hand and even I'd worn them out with my nightly activities. No, not sex, before any pervert thinks that.
Fighting. I fight on a night at a nearby club that hosts underground matches. Pays decent enough money and I need all the money I can get right now.
Laying the clothes out on the bed, I bent down and opened the drawers to my wardrobe. Taking out some socks and underwear, I quickly put them on before closing the drawer and putting on my clothes. Walking over to the door, I kicked up the wet towel and walked back into the bathroom before putting it into the laundry basket.
Once that was done, I walked to the exit to my apartment. Once near the door, I slipped on the shoes I'd left near there and gazed down at how used and dirty they were.
...One day I'll rise above it all. So stay calm, Adam.
If there is one thing I don't like about this new body of mine, is that I'm technically a new person. I'm similar to how I was because of, what I assume, my soul's interference. But this body is different. It's brain chemistry is different. On that note, I'm quite lucky that not only am I as intelligent as I was in my previous life, I seem to have had a boost when I came to this world.
But other than that, I have stronger emotions. I keep them under control, of course, but emotions are emotions. You shouldn't bottle them up. I was just lucky in my last life because I had such subtle and weak emotions.
Yet such a circumstance has left me unprepared for such strong emotions. Though I've gotten it under control by now...it was an embarrassing few years between the ages of 8 and 12-years-old.
...Moving on, I took my key off the key rack and opened the door.
Walking out into the corridor, I was hit by the stench of the apartment building I was forced to life in. I kept my apartment smelling somewhat okay through the use of air fresheners and frequent cleaning (though the bathroom tiles' grime refuses to be cleaned) but outside of my apartment? I have no control over that and despite how much of a clean freak I am, I don't have the energy, the resources nor the motivation to clean the whole of the apartment building.
Closing the door behind me, I locked it and put the key in my front pocket before going on my way. Those I passed in the corridor gave me a wide berth and didn't get involved with me.
Mainly because of my reputation around here. I'd brutally maimed dozens of people in the past. Why? The reasons don't matter. They either had not-so-nice thoughts towards me, my mother or our belongings. I just kept us safe.
Alongside my exercise routine, I'd taken to using what little pocket money I had and some of the money mother could put aside to get lessons in fighting from nearby kickboxing gyms.
Luckily, I had good genetics and my universal talent allowed me to easily pick up the fighting style.
So I trained and I trained and I trained. Until I could fight and fight and fight. I put myself through all sorts of fights and I learnt new ways to use my body to inflict pain and damage upon someone else's body. I put my medical and anatomical knowledge to use, basically.
It allowed me to be a formidable fighter. Not unbeatable. But a pretty good one. Especially for a teenager.
Entering the dingy elevator, I clicked the ground floor button or rather, where there would've been a ground floor button if it hadn't been pried off. The elevator binged randomly, showing it's shitty quality, before a few seconds later one of the doors slowly came out to close while the other one was stuck.
Despite this, the elevator deemed it good enough and it began to descend.
My apartment wasn't on a high level. It was on the 3rd floor. So I only had to wait a few seconds before I reached my destination.
Stepping out through the space available, I exited the elevator just before the second door began to close like it hadn't missed it's queue by 3 whole floors. Ignoring such a shitty elevator, I exited the building and pulled up my hood to hide my hair.
I had...unusual hair, to say the least. Silvery white. That, along with what my mother had told me about my father, is why I think that my father is Slade Wilson*. Or at least there's a big probability that he's my father. There's no definite evidence however. He didn't show up with presents on birthdays and say "Hello, son, it's me, your father, Slade Wilson".
(*A/N - I don't think Slade Wilson has naturally silvery white hair but hey, who's it gonna hurt if I make that canon for this story? No one.)
It was all just speculation from what I'd been told.
'Oh,' you say, 'Isn't Slade Wilson from DC?' you ask. Well yes, yes he is from the DC comics. That's the bigger part of my new existence that has me feeling terrified and slightly thrilled at the same time.
I looked up at a nearby apartment building and the entire side of it had been blown open. I'd bet it was another fight between Bane and Batman. Roided out super villain vs the Dark Knight. It was bound to cause a lot of destruction. But looking at the lack of body bags and the small scale of the destruction, I can definitely tell the Joker has nothing to do with it. That freak is still in Arkham as far as I know. Though it won't be long until he breaks out. Again.
Sighing, I turned my sights back to the pavement and continued on my way.
What was I speaking about before I went on that tirade about being in DC? Ah, yes, my silvery white hair. Well, it usually gets gawked at and it's a part of me that's easy to single out and start something with me. Not because I react to taunts or anything but because I don't react to taunts and that riles up the goons of Gotham more than anything.
So I keep my hair as covered as possible. At least when I have stuff to do and can't afford getting interrupted by some thugs.
Picking up into a brisk job, I began humming a tune of some classical music I'd heard a few days ago. My destination? The hospital. To visit my mother.
...Ironic, isn't it? The terrible affliction that took life from me in my past life is in the process of taking my mother from me in this life. If only I had the resources to continue my work from my last life. Alas...making money wasn't as simple as novels and fanfics would have you believe. Stealing from people? It would amount to nothing but chump change. Making some inventions to sell the patents for? Without the necessary background certain businesses would just kill you for your idea once they'd verified it's authenticity.
Making money without the necessary influence and social power was hard.
Thus...I had to sit by as my mother died from cancer. Inoperable, just like mine. It...it is absolutely horrible. Here I thought experiencing death was bad--Watching it take someone you love is easily worse.
Setting into my jogging, I kept my breathe steady despite the hitch of pain in both my chest and throat. I pushed through it, telling myself it was an inevitability. Death, that is. As soon as you're born, you take a step closer to death and every day after that is another step closer. It's not unnatural. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
Pushing such thoughts to the back of my head, I thought about my plans after visiting mother. Going to my school to get my highschool diploma and then going to the nearby gym to work out further. I had a fight tonight, after all.
Once that was done, I would begin planning for the first step in my plan.
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