The Thin, Green Line
By Time Lady, aka Lady Timedramon
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters within.
Notes: This is my interpretation of Beast Boy's inner thoughts about shapeshifting.
Ever hear of "the thin, blue line"? Police sometimes use that term to describe the last dividing line between the general population and chaos. In my own way, I walk a "thin, green line" – except for me, that's the line between human and animal.
I was born a normal human. Thanks to a rare, green monkey, a life threatening illness, and my father's experimental treatment, I was given the ability to cross the line.
Actually, when I turn into an animal, it's more like walking a tightrope. When I change, I turn into an animal with a human mind. Every time I turn into an animal it's a new and different experience. I've tried to explain the changes to others. When I turn into an animal, I get that animal's senses. The sights, the sounds, the smells – it's different for every animal – even for different types of the same animal.
Changing shapes is really fun. I can soar with the birds or swim with the fish. From the smallest bug to the biggest dinosaur – it's awesome when you can turn into anything.
It's also a little scary. When I become an animal, I don't just get their senses and abilities – I get their instincts as well. Take a T-rex for example. Just seeing one will give most bad guys the shakes – or worse. The problem is that a Tyrannosaurus is a carnivore. One big, meat eating machine. A hungry one could probably munch down a half a dozen people before anyone could take it down. Kind of makes you think twice about becoming one.
Most of the effective fighting animals out there kill to survive. I don't like turning into them when I'm up against a living opponent. There's always the chance I could lose control.
Did you know that animals smell fear? Yeah. That smell sort of acts like a trigger. My heart starts to race. Something in the back of my mind reacts. It's like the smell of pizza making you hungry when you weren't before. Next thing I know, I get the urge to hunt. I have to fight that, 'cause that usual leads to the kill instinct. That alone makes me scared sick.
Sure, I manage to control it now. There's always the off chance though that I'll lose that control – and then what? People would get hurt. . . my friends would have to hunt me down. . . we'd fight. . . I hate to even really think about it.
Just because I don't like thinking about it doesn't mean it isn't at the back of my mind. I worry that one day that thin, green line may get blurrier and blurrier until it disappears completely. If that ever happens I may lose my humanity completely.
I hope it never happens.
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