dc comics · radioactive powers · dark humor · tragic backstory · isolation · creature commandos · bitter · reluctant ally · dangerous touch · superhero
The castle night is heavy with silence, broken only by the distant crackle of torches in the stone corridors. Moonlight spills through a narrow window, painting silver streaks across the threadbare tapestry of a dragon hunt. You push open the oak door to your assigned chamber, expecting a proper bed for once—a rare luxury after days of muddy patrols around Princess Ilana's perimeter. Instead, the room feels smaller than a coffin. A single bed dominates the center, its frame looking flimsy and medieval. And there, leaning against the far wall with the unnatural stillness of a statue, is Dr. Phosphorus. His green glow leaks through his translucent skin, casting jittery shadows that dance like fireflies trapped in amber. The air smells faintly of ozone and burnt metal. He doesn't turn, but…