Mission Briefing
She didn't sleep, not in the conventional sense.  But her brain, along with a small handful of internal organs heavily guarded within her doll-like body, was still human and still required some measure of rest.  So one of the systems programmed into her body enabled her to shut herself down for brief periods, allowing her brain to refresh and dream.

In her dreams, she still remembered colors, vividly, not the tv-toned colors she saw now.  She smelled flowers, felt the wind upon her skin.  She held her children, kissed her husband.

In her dreams, she was still a woman.


An automated system woke her from her sleep.

ATTENTION, ATTENTION.  DOLL-WOMAN, PLASMOID, SUCKER PUNCH, PLEASE REPORT TO THE MISSION BRIEFING ROOM.  DOOM PATROL, PLEASE REPORT TO THE MISSION BRIEFING ROOM IN TEN MINUTES.

She rose from her recharge cubicle, pulling loose the power cord from the back of her neck, just under her plasticy, doll-like hair.  She dressed quickly into her green and white uniform, heading towards the briefing room.

In the short months since they had formed the Doom Patrol, she had seen numerous strange things, but some of which she would even get used to.  She had gotten used to--on some level--the power of her body.  But she would never get used to the "code-names" the Project had saddled the three of them with.  Caulder never used them, instead referring to the three of them by their real names, even though he preferred that they call him "Chief", as they typically used their names with each other. 

It might not have been much of a life right now, but it was hers. 

It beat going insane.

She stepped into the briefing room to find the Chief already waiting for them.