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DCUO - GypsyLynx

{Partial patient file recovered from the mass-breakout in the Meta Research Wing of Metro General Hospital}

... subject still insists that she is from another planet, and that her form is not simply due to a felinoid exobyte-driven mutation. She also insists that the lyrical chirps, yowls and related noises that she was speaking when authorities found her in a large crater behind the Bowman farm on the outskirts of Smallville* were her native language.

When the patient finally recovered from the apparent disorientation of her "arrival" and switched to a language that some of the green lanterns understood, she insisted that her name was something totally unpronounceable that sounded like a mama cat chirping to her kittens. She also claimed that she had been traveling from planet to planet for several hundred years, even though she seems to be in her rather furry prime.

One of the more impressionable younger meta patients quipped that she was some sort of star gypsy, another called her a lynx (despite the evidence of a more leopard-like base), and suddenly all the patients were merging the two names together. For lack of a better name for her, we are now cross-referencing Nature Healer Patient #M73 as "GypsyLynx."

(*See attatched bill from John F. Bowman for 100 feet of fence, as well as the loss of one week's production from his 10 dairy cattle, that were "So het up from the to-do that their milk was curdled for a week." He insists that "someone from the 'gubiment' reimburse him, as this whole "Brainiac-thang" is just a conspiracy to cheat honest farmers out of their hard-earned money.)

Since we are to be allies, you and I, I feel I should tell you more about myself. Things that my captors, those doctors, dismissed and ignored.

My birth name is something I won't even ask your human vocal system to try to pronounce. Amidst the varied races that I have encountered since beginning my travels, it was shortened to Mreeannallyrr Prrrtan, if such record-keeping interests you as much as it did those ... doctors.

My people were scholars, explorers and artists. And yes, as you may have gathered from my own appearance, we were a felinoid race.

Those who displayed healing gifts were a rarity - to be cherished, revered and pampered. Thus, when my gift began manifesting at an early age, my archaeologist parents handed over the management of their digsite on a remote planet to a distant cousin. While they had been working the dig since before I was born, and felt they were on the verge of some major discoveries, they knew their responsibility to train and protect a natural-born healer.

In their eyes, there was no question that I should be brought to our homeworld immediately. A homeworld which I had never seen, except in holos, as my parents had always had "just one more" section that they wanted to excavate before leaving the digsite for several long months it would take for a round-trip visit our homeworld.

Alas, it was not to be, as we returned to find our world a scorched ruin. Brainiac had made short work of our peace-loving people, and left the sad remains as a feast for the carrion-creatures.

I was young and the destruction of this world that I had never set foot on didn't hit me anywhere near as badly as it did my parents. As a result, though my parents wanted to dig through the rubble in a vain search for survivors that had likely been dead for months, I pressed them to go back "home", to the digsite that was the only home I had ever truly known.

It, too, had been destroyed. Not by Brainiac, but by more mundane pirates, who had rifled through the bits of broken pottery and other bric-a-brac of a long-dead civilization, looking for precious metals and "native art" that they could market. Of my kinsmen who had been working the site during our five-month round trip, nothing remained but the corpses.

{She coughs, ears swiveling with apparent embarassment}

As a side-effect, I suspect, of spending so many long years alone, I tend to wax lyrical when I have a willing audience. I beg your indulgence. I will try to be more brief with the rest of my tale.

My parents spent frantic years with our small ship, hopping from known planet to known planet, looking for more of our people to no avail. Brainiac, planet pirates, exotic plagues - the litany ran together in my mind, with Brainiac at the forefront for the greatest heaping of hatred by myself and my parents.

By the time my parents passed on (Father to ship repairs gone explosively wrong, and Mother to a rather messy suicide soon thereafter), my one burning goal was to find Brainiac and do whatever I could to stop him from destroying other races.

Of my centuries of traveling, I will only say they were long and lonely -- and that I found this world, your earth, entirely by accident. After reading some of your fiction, I know this may sound like some overused fabrication, but I ended up here due to a trans-warp failure. This isn't even remotely close to the sector that I was headed to.

However it happened I am here now and so is Brainiac.

I may not be a strong warrior, but healing I can and will do. I will not flee. I will not falter. You humans have a chance, however slim, of defeating Brainiac, and I offer you my gifts to strengthen you when you falter, to rebuild your battered bodies so you can stand once again and end this menace before it destroys yet another world, another people.

Gypsy has no further story of her own at this time, but she plays a solid part in the multipart Volt Sisters story.

Created: 2016-06-27 12:48:08          
Last Modified By: Niami Denmother          
Last Modified on: 2016-10-25 06:32:34          

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